A Realization - I was a fucking awesome kid.

I amaze myself.

I've been reading my first blog for the past 20 minutes or so. I was an absolutely incredible writer. I was so full of honesty and beauty. I had the most beautiful mind I've ever seen in anybody. I envy my 13-year-old self. I envy him. He was a boy with so much love in his heart, and so much to say. He was a boy who wanted to share himself with the world.

And he could write so well. So much better than I can. My writing is far too stream-of-thought. It's not as readable as his. His could be made into a book. It's so prosaic.

Is it because his mind had not yet been destroyed by pot? Have I really done this to myself?

I was a poetic and prosaic genius. I was so honest. I didn't care what people thought of my writing, I just wrote. That's why it turned out so good.

I want to meet this young man. I want to shake hands with him. I want him to remind me what it's like to be young again. I miss him. And I want to tell him what I have learned.

No, no, no, no, no. Scratch that. Telling him what I've learned would give him a false idea of how life should be. He figured it out for himself, which is the best way to realize things. I am so full of envy right now. I was on the verge of crying as I read it. I was so clever, and so funny. My sense of humor was so much better than it is now. How I managed to survive among the vast amounts of Rappahannockins for so long boggles my mind.

If I could go back and live in that mindset for a day, I would.

Really, though. I need to write this damn paper.

I HAVE RETURNED

WELL, HELLO THERE!

Jesus fucking Christ. How the fuck are you, bloggy? It's been SO LONG.

I'm a completely different person. Quite incredible how much I've changed.

Anyway, I'm in the middle of writing an essay on Hamlet. Well, actually, to be honest, I was reading through the old posts on Sarah's blog. My god, the comments I made were obnoxious. I was such a pretentious fuckhead.

But it made me want to write. I need to continue this chronicle of my thoughts and viewpoints and how they change over time. I got really good at that at one point. Then all I wrote about was Mairead, and the only reason I wrote was to BAWWW. Enough of that. That's the old Austen. I know I've said things similar to that before, but I believe I mean it truly this time. Normally, I would start a new blog entirely to symbolize my newfound disregard for the old melodramatic Austen, but since this blog only has like 18 posts, I decided to keep it going.

Three months. A person can change a lot in three months. I certainly have.

So, I'm in Boston. The five-week Boston University Summer Theatre Institute (a.k.a. "theater camp") is coming to an end. Today is Wednesday. I must be checking out by Saturday morning at 10:00 AM. This program was quite an experience. Plenty of fantastic moments that I'll remember and cherish forever. Plenty of moments of feeling like shit, unable to connect with anybody around me. I guess everywhere I go, it'll be like that.

I have 2 and a half hours until I have to be at Group D's performance, and I have to spend some time bullshitting the remaining 300 words of my Hamlet essay. It shouldn't take too long to do. In the meantime, I suppose what I should do is write about everything that has happened.

...Or I could go eat lunch at the dining hall. I'll do this some other time. I have plenty of time.