The new me
I have quite a lot of old email buried in my computer, much of it undeleted Outlook mail burned to CD for me as the venerable Seattle law firm bled out. I dip into the trove sometimes. Lately, and on the heels of asserting here and there that I haven't changed much since my 20s, I keep seeing signs that I am wrong. Even allowing for how new email was to me back then, and for the oddness of reading things one doesn't remember writing, there is quite a bit there that the current me just wouldn't write. It's not so much of a surprise, really, knowing all that's happened in the intervening years, but I rarely focus on how I've changed. There was more of an edge then, a more self-conscious way of crafting messages (part of the imperfect, alienating but mostly effective pulling the wool over the world's eyes I practiced in that long period of hanging unhappiness). I'm so much more comfortable now, so much more mellow. I wonder if it's something others perceive more than I do, less, or not at all.
Yes, more mellow. This blog notwithstanding. Scary to think what this would have been like a decade ago.
Labels: what passes for introspection
1 Comments:
So, how do you think your present-day prose will look to you in fifteen years? We'll probably have plugs for the Net wired into our occiputs by then...
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