Yes, the world has a right of expecting something of me, since I expect much of it.

(The world as in the collective of people inhabiting it)

Yes, I made those promises, and I'm borderline breaking them.

Sorry I don't share their weberian work ethic. Sorry it doesn't come natural to me.

I mean, it's not like mathematics came natural to all of them. Or photography.

Yes, I'm in the wrong.


(An amendment:
my thoughts of suicide
may actually be thoughts of fleeing and starting again)

In the spirit of this month's quest, these are some of the things that I love about e2:

I love that it is personal. I love that grundoon continues to record her experiences with cancer. Reading her daylogs makes me sad, makes me want to be able to reach out and hug her, makes me want to have a shot of bourbon with her husband. I want to share the experiences my mother had with her, and to tell her my own fears and misgivings. I love that this is possible.

I love that it is full of interesting people. I have opened my mailbox before and, unsolicited and unexpected, had waiting a letter from Segnbora-t. How wonderful that can feel, to know that a stranger out there in the etherwebs took one of the most valuable things they possess, a moment of their life, to write me.

I love that it is full of hidden treasures. I love to hit Random Node and find a well-written factnode about feudal Japan, or a hilarious writeup about giant robots and rabbits and marital aids. How exciting to read something from six, seven, even 10 years ago and follow the author's link back to their homenode, and be rewarded with a snapshot of their life, even if they are no longer present.

I love that people have put more into this website than will ever be possible by myself. Have you ever visited Pseudo_Intellectual's homenode? It is amazing, and a testament to those who are no longer active here. Take a moment to look at Jet-Poop's numbers. He would need to be abducted and returned to the grim future of BooBooKitty, and still it would take you a decade to catch up to him. Amazing.

I love that it has remained largely unchanged on the surface. Like an old comfortable couch, I can be gone for a long time and when I come back, it is easy to settle in and get back to work.

I love that you can read this.

XOXO, Monkeylover

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