Something just made me realize now. Or if it even mattered that I realized it. Or if the thought or realization itself is even significant.
Anyway, I just realized that I have been ranting lately and have simply been ranting in bits and pieces. One good rant maybe, was when I last spoke with I, when I spend the night at our house. So this ranting trend of bits and pieces seemed to have begun around the same time my entries have become far and few in between, when my entries have become more trivial and more vague, so to speak. I may have been ranting in bits and pieces but I was ranting more often. It was like I was trying to build my case that my life and career sucks. But I have always felt that no one was paying attention. Of course, it was pretty obvious that if one rants more often, sooner or later, people will get tired of listening and the rants end up as meaningless and hollow thoughts.
So maybe I should get back to this. Ranting in prose. It does not really matter if someone or any one reads it or not. It is there. Suspended in cyberspace. It is, at once, up in the air or gone forever. But it is retrievable. With a risk (or wish) that it has become devoid of emotion or nostalgic with the angst that used to be there.
It has no specific purpose. It has no goal. At the same time it is one intends it to be. To be out there. It is what it is. And it is nothing. All the time. Or never at all. To be remembered. Or forgotten.
Words and memories. In cyberspace.