  So last night I discovered that (unless you disable logs) AIM for mac saves all conversations had with it. Predictably, I then sat down and read all conversations from the last six months or so that were with or about Becca.
  I’m not sure why I did, or what I got out of it, but I couldn’t stop once I started, even tho it took about two hours.
  Six months of friendship contained in three digital files.
  “the pain in my hand is nowhere near the pain in my heart”
– ahhhh
– i’m worried
– worry is the path to the dark side
– i am the dark side
lol
-oh…well then you defenitly have nothing to worry about
you realize that being the dark side makes you easier and more seductive, right?
–no
-oh. well it does.
  I think part of it was to confirm to myself that, yes, we did have a friendship, and at times a fairly close one. Or so the conversations lead one to believe. Maybe I was trying to find some easy way out of loving her, but I didn’t find that either: I still love her. Even if the her that I love is just an idea/image of her that exists only in my head. Part of it was that I was looking to find something that would shatter that idea/image, but I found nothing.
  Maybe I loved the feeling of nostalgic and tragic sadness that came out of it.
  Memories can just as easily be fictional dreams, willingly and knowingly manipulated by fantasies and wishes, but those were real conversations with and about a real person. They weren’t memories, they were more real than memories, in a strange technological way. What a strange world, where conversations are recorded by computers, and then the effect they have is documented on the internet. And it’s all done willingly. Perhaps privacy is over-rated.
  And now, a random song lyric: (And yes, this one will be just as “random” as most of the others have been, which means that I’m connecting them to Becca in my head.)
Remember everything I told you
Keep it in your heart like a stone
And when the winds have blown things round and back again
What was once your pain will be your home
All around the table the white haired men have gathered
Spilling their sons’ blood like table wine
Remember everything I told you
Everything in its own time
The music whispers you in urgency
Hold fast to that languageless connection
A thread of known that was unknown and unseen seen
Dangling from inside the fifth direction
Boys around the table mapping out their strategies
Kings of mountains one day dust
A lesson learned, a loving God, and things in their own time
In nothing more do I trust
But we own nothing, nothing is ours
Not even love so fierce it burns like baby stars
But this poverty is our greatest gift
The weightlessness of us as things around begin to shift
  ~ Indigo Girls, Everything in its Own Time
“.i feel like i never knew who she was and now i am extremely pissed off that i am so vulnerable and exposed to a person who isn’t going to care about me”
Oh, and just cause it’s such a good little conversation snippet, I’ll put in the part about Yoda.
– yoda knows nothing
i’ll show him
– couldn’t you think of a more realistic goal…I mean…Yoda? he could kick your ass!
-whatever
– just fair warning
size matters not.
hehe
-size does so matter
wait…not like that
-yoda didn’t mean it like “that”
(I don’t think….)
-lol
ya never know
i think yoda was implying that he was good in bed
-hmmm….I don’t care how good he is…I’m not having sex with the forgotten love child of Kermit the frog and Miss Piggy
-he doesn’t want to have sex with YOU
he wants to have sex with me
because i’m easier and more seductive
I suppose that’s as good a place to end an entry as any.
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