It's not quite accurate to title this Entry 1. After all, the first entry is different every time I start looking through this damned notebook. I swear, it's impossible to ever find the same page twice with this thing. Still, I opened the book to a random page and got this. It seems like a good place to start, especially considering when it takes place and what it means about this notebook.
Well, I'm on the last page of this notebook. Another four months of life turned into a bunch of useless thoughts on paper. Maybe not entirely useless. I'm sure there's some decent memories or stories or reminiscing or ideas or whatever in here somewhere. I just don't know if I'll ever dig them out. Probably just toss this with the other finished ones in my closet.
You know, I'm kinda starting to think maybe I should get a blog. I'm down to one last notebook leftover from school anyways, and all the old ones just take up space. Who knows, maybe someone will actually read it.
Really wishing I didn't have to work this weekend. Ted and his damn gaming convention are making me jealous. I could be out playing games but instead I have to go fold clothes and get yelled at by David. What a fucking asshole. He's constantly on me about shit that doesn't even matter.
"Damien, why aren't these jeans folded perfectly and sized correctly?"
Because entropy in the form of customers takes care of that within minutes of me turning around, David. Be happy with "pretty good" and not perfection.
And I'm just about out of room on this page. Decision time: blog or notebook?"
Considering this was definitely not the last page of the notebook I have with me, I have no idea what to think right now. The notebook isn't just infinite but also contains writings from other notebooks? It's just... odd as hell. We'll put it that way.