Long passages

Yesterday, I somehow managed to stumble upon something I'm not sure I really wanted to stumble upon. The blog of somebody from a long ago time. A boy I loved deeply and, possibly very youth-tintedly many, many moons ago. Someone I have not had contact with for years (not purposefully, it just worked out like that). I felt a little voyeuristic, like I was reading his diary while he was out of his bedroom.

It just happened. I wasn't looking for it, it was just suddenly there. Obviously it didn't just appear on my screen but, like I said, I stumbled upon it and, being the curious thing I am, there was no way that I couldn't click on the link. Of course not! So I wandered through the back corridors of time and The Ether. You know the ones - they're long and sometimes dark, sometimes lit by a candle attached to the wall, and there are literally hundreds of doors through which one can hear familiar sounds - voices that comfort, laughter sometimes, crying other times and behind some doors, a strange hush. It is along those corridors that you walk and stop to listen, itching to open the doors, but knowing you probably shouldn't.

Anyway, I digress. The whole thing freaked me out a bit because, as I've whinged repeatedly (see here, and here), I am so very unsure of the whole availability of this blog thing and it's lack of privacy. I do realise that that's the whole point and that it is, intrinsically, why I am forcing myself to do this, but... It just reiterated that, as I can easily stumble onto other people's blogs, so can they, onto mine. Thus my keeping my name off this, even though all three of you who read this know who I am anyway.

I really am waffling aren't I? (Mmm, waffles, yum). I think my point is, um, okay, I don't have one. I just needed to write about that. You see, there is a whole story here, in fact probably a few, but the privacy thing makes me not want to write it. God forbid I feel exposed. Oh, blegh.

In other news, I received the most hysterical e-mail from Stalkbook this morning. It deserves it's own post though so I'll get onto it later hopefully. It's raining so, logically, that means I should write more. Don't question my logic. It's just the way it is.

I wonder if they make waffles at the canteen at Real Work?