I’m officially out of Alexandria

Well the keys have been handed over, so I’m officially out of Alexandria… assuming the mail forwarding goes ok, otherwise I may still have to go back. But it was nice to turn over the last thing that said “I’m a suburbs boy.” Now I reclaim my title of Urban Diva. Unfortunately, such title doesn’t encourage me to write very much. I guess there’s not that much crap happening in my life lately.

There is one thing though. After talking to a friend, I realize that I should say again to those friends reading my journal as a substitute for dropping me an e-mail, an instant message or a call. I say friends, but I suppose these people fall below the radar of “friend.” I guess it calls into wonder the reason for online journals. They’re just outlets of expression, but I have never liked when people that know me well enough to just ask, go poring through my entries trying to gain insight into my inner psyche. Like the time a friend said to me on the metro “So I hear you’re househunting…” when he wouldn’t have heard from anyone else aside from this journal that I was doing so.

So if you can’t be bothered to say hello once in a while, can you call me your friend or not? This doesn’t apply to ex’s, however. They probably feel some perverse pleasure in looking to see what I’m up to. I had one send me a note to complain about the way I talked about him in my journal, ignoring the fact that no one knew him anyway.

I’m rambling, it feels good. Well a nice pot of peppermint iced tea awaits me, so I shall indulge.