Writing creative entries is harder, but more satisfying, than just sitting down and babbling about my life. That's why you've been getting less entries lately. I do my little pseudo Survivor thing, and then I just don't feel like even trying another entry for a few days. They wear me out. But, I'm pretty sure they're funny, and maybe even a little better written than my usual stuff. Trying to work within arbitrary guidelines seems to be good for me. Maybe when I don't have DiaryLand Survivor to sponge topics off of anymore, I'll find one of those "You can Write!" sites, and steal an idea or two each week from them.

***

I've been spying on this little clique of Taus who've been doing the DairyLand thing lately. Ken, Vin, Warren, SaraH, Daven. Those are the ones who I've been stalking. Some of you told me about yourselves, some of you didn't. I check up on all of you at least once a week.

When I stalk, I stalk very thoroughly. I've read your guestbooks, too. I noticed a few people who seem to make the rounds of the guestbooks, but never leave the address of their own site.

Last night, I did a bad thing. I found myself alone with one of these people, and I asked her pointblank if she had a journal. She said she usually doesn't tell people right out, but if they know her e-mail, they can figure out where it is. Then, she told me her e-mail.

Naturally, I got online first thing today, and checked her out.

You know who you are. I'm so sorry. Your diary turned out to be sad and hardcore and personal. I'm trying to be logical and cold about this, and tell myself "Well, I didn't actually force her to tell me. She could have lied, if she really didn't want me in here" but I know that just won't cut it. I asked, and maybe you felt you had to tell me, and I'm sorry I forced you into that situation.

So, I'm coming clean. I don't want to keep feeling guilty about this. If you know I read you, and you don't want me to do it anymore, let me know. If you know I read you, and you want me to pretend like I don't, I can do that too. If I don't read you, and you really sincerely want me to, let me know. If I don't read you, and you want to keep it that way, don't tell me anything.

For the record, I am all through feeling paranoid. (No, really.) I want everyone in the whole damn world to read me. (No, really, dammit.) The only possible exception I can think of right now is my parents, and if I can ever manage to stop talking about drugs, I might change my mind on that one too. I'd appreciate it if you'd let me know you're reading, though.

I just want to know who you are, and where exactly I stand with each of you. Please let me know, either in my guestbook, or if you're feeling paranoid, drop me an e-mail.

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