December 22, 1996

Dear Diary:

Weather today -- too early to tell
Mood today -- okay
Fly count for yesterday -- 0
HF Today -- 550%

Well, I decided the best way to resolve yesterday's dilemma is to create a completely separate site about my "other" self. It won't be linked to this one in any way. That way I can let my passionate side loose to play without messing up what is a pretty good 10 megabyte site. :) So the award I talked about yesterday will be off my awards page as of this morning and will be on the new pages. Gee, I haven't even created the new site and it's already won an award. Too cool!

I had to laugh yesterday. I got turned down for an award by someone whose pages include her churche's site. She "doesn't particular want her audience to see [your] pages." Woo hoo. Censorship is alive and well in the 1990s and is it any surprise the Christians are in the middle of it? I took my little blue anti-censorship campaign ribbon off my page when I did a clean sweep of unnecessary graphics. Maybe I need to put it back in a larger size instead. How 'bout something like this:

Or maybe I should just make it into a background. LOL. Doesn't want her audience to see my pages.... what a crock. 10 megs of stuff here and she zeroes in on one .gif (9401 bytes in size, BTW) and the word 'bitchy.' I should go check out her pages. She's probably a bandwidth bandit or something! LOL! THAT would be some lovely irony. I wonder if the fine print on the stone tablet with the commandment about not stealing said, "except bandwidth. That part's cool." You know what's weird? It isn't that I didn't get her award that's getting under my skin, but that reference to censorship thing really bugged me. I mean, for an awards ho' like me to not care about getting an award is interesting in itself, but the fact that it really riles me that "her audience" shouldn't see my pages because I'm a corrupter of morals or something makes me laugh but makes me angry at the same time. Gee, I never knew I was such a subversive element of society. All that time in the 60s when I was growing up, I was just a touch too young to really be involved in the anti-war, anti-establishment movement and now that I'm older, I'm so humdrum and boring it's pathetic. Good to know SOMEONE thinks I'm a danger to society. ROTFLMAO!

Diary Addendum, added at 6:00 p.m.:

So many emotions... I've reviewed site after site for awards today and I've seen so much and tasted so much and felt so much. I feel the dark side of myself coming to the forefront; not depression, exactly, but... darkness. I noticed earlier today that I was feeling ethereal, ungrounded, and I should have known to read that as an omen. I feel so far away from what I love right now... and drawn towards something else, something else which claims me as its own. I feel new poetry churning within me but it's yet to unfold into that place where I can touch it, grab it, hold onto it. Some kind of metamorphosis is underway within me; whether temporary or permanent I don't know. I just know I'm about to change into something I wasn't prior to place in time. Whatever this is, it feels very primal. This goes clear to the roots of all that I believe. The Source is restless.

Smoke and mirrors; we're all just so much smoke and mirrors. I don't know why I let life make me crazy. I don't really believe any of this exists. I believe we're just mirrors of The Source. The Source is the All That There Is. We're but reflections of Her. Neither time nor matter exist. Whatever is going on with me right now, this is where it's rooted. In non-existence. I went back and read a poem I wrote a few weeks ago and realize I could be writing it all over again this minute.

I am but an orifice,
A vessel for your seed.
My insignificance threatens to overwhelm me,
To crush me.
Our futures are what we make them
And mine has ceased to exist.
Let invisibility be my trademark.
Let insignificance enshroud me,
Wrap me in its arms and keep me safe.
The future will unfold without me.

Insignificance. Non-existence. Then I think of these in terms of what I wrote earlier about censorship and awards and 'adult' versus 'family' sites on the web. And I think about it in terms of what I read on a friend's page today, in his daily journal. I don't come to any conclusions, but I continue to think. I keep thinking and thinking, hoping the act of thinking will tie me to this plane. But I'm so ephemeral and so ethereal now. A single line from a chant keeps playing in my head: We stand in place outside of Time.

I think of the tangible projects with which I'm involved and wonder if they matter. What does, when you get right down to it? Does love matter? Does harmony? Peace? Strength? Do any of the things I profess to stand for really matter? Is life really any more than chrysalises from The Source?

Waiting. What am I waiting for? A letter, a phone call... something to enlighten me about the future, perhaps. Something to make me feel life matters. I found a wonderful site on the web today. The irony of it is that it's the kind of site you don't want to share. It's the kind of site that wouldn't appreciate half the known universe visiting or, worse yet, linking to it. It is a dark site, a home for the lost and abandoned. It felt so comfortable to me. And the author... oh, she's so articulate, so intelligent and so savvy. I still can't believe she's a high school student, but that's just evidence of one of my prejudices, I guess. Somehow I don't expect maturity, insight and thoughtfulness (let alone correct spelling and grammar) from high school-aged people. It's so good to be proven wrong on that score. I even submitted the above poem to her poetic contributions page, which is quite something for me. I don't generally share my stuff around very much. Everything about that site is dark, from the title to the credits. My God, it felt like home to me.

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Copyright 1997 Elaine M. Jordaan

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