i travelled on a plane today

morning airline meal
orange juice
sausage, omelette, baked beans
scattered grapes and melon slices
strawberry yoghurt

evening airline meal
roast beef
potatoes
carrots and peas
passionfruit pavlova
edam cheese and crackers
cabernet merlot wine

i went cd shopping today

mahalia jackson
greatest hits

the beach boys
pet sounds

marvin gaye
let's get it on

If a journal is an avenue of self-reflection, what self is reflected back to me?

Another in the series of personalities I've constructed?

Online Mike?

When things reached the breaking point for MeandDebandBeth (was it the third time, the fourth time, Deb had caught me cheating?) I said to Deb no more lies.

I wanted this journal to be a part of that. I had a notion that because what happened was online, I could (should?) use this medium to look at myself. I didn't want to be the sort of man who had done things that I had done, and I thought by writing this it may help me find out why things happened. (note use of passive tense - appropriate?)

I haven't done that yet. Not specifically look at Beth and I.

Am I scared of what I might find?

But, because this was our medium, she's there every time I log on. And I know Deb knows that. And I know this is something I need to work through with Deb.

I don't want to invalidate what Beth and I did. I don't want to belittle it or exalt it.

I want to contextualise it within my life and I want Debbie and I to be able to move on and to acknowledge it but not be overwhelmed by it.

Can you do that Mike?

This is a weird entry I know. I've been thinking about the nature of online journals and their purpose. Have you ever talked with someone who is a stranger but within minutes been telling them stuff about yourself that's personal and that you haven't told close friends/family/partners? It often happens when travelling, when you know you won't see that person again and you develop a certain intimacy, but there's also a certain safety to that intimacy because tomorrow you're both moving on.

This journal seems a bit like that.

In a very real sense though, every entry I write is written to Deb. She often reads as I'm writing, although right now she's asleep and this will be for her tomorrow.

Sometimes it's easier for me to write stuff than to tell it or talk it.

There's an element of performance too. I feel pathetically grateful for any feedback I've received on this journal/web site. Not that anyone has commented on anything specific I've written, but I've had a couple of general favourable comments. And I've smiled the whole night long when I've got them.

This entry feels disjointed. I'm really wondering what I'm trying to do with this journal, and what my motives are, and how I'm going to write.

Do you ever wonder if there's a real you or just a series of personality constructs you shuffle into as the situation demands?

I do.