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If dreams are like movies

...then memories are films about ghosts.

22 November 1981
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Now cracks a noble heart. Goodnight sweet prince, may flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!

I've decided to simplify my profile, as I'm sure you can see. It's hard writing these things because, really, how do you sum up who you are? Name, age, location, pets, favourite stuff - what's it all really mean?

This journal is a good example of who I am, I suppose, or at least who I choose to present to the world (and by the world I mean, of course, the small selection of people who opt to read it).

Privacy. Due to various personal reasons, I'm choosing after many years of having a mostly public LJ to turn it mostly private. There will still be the occasional public post, but for access to my more personal entries, you will need to be on my friends list. If you would like to read, please comment on any public entry and I will likely add you to the list, provided I know and trust you. At this time, there are no plans to change the privacy settings of earlier entries, no matter how personal, though this may be subject to change.

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    The memory throws up high and dry
    A crowd of twisted things;
    A twisted branch upon the beach
    Eaten smooth, and polished
    As if the world gave up
    The secret of its skeleton,
    Stiff and white.
    A broken spring in a factory yard,
    Rust that clings to the form that the strength has left
    Hard and curled and ready to snap.
    - T.S. Eliot

    There are so many different ways to be connected to people. There are the people you feel this unspoken connection to, even though there's not even a word for it. There's the people who you've known forever who know you in this way that other people can't because they've seen you change. They've let you change.
    - from My So-Called Life