Six months ago I started this. I didn't know then if I would do it for more than two weeks or if I could really write. I didn't know why I was doing this, really.

Except maybe to prove something to myself.

I still don't know how many people read this. LadyDawn always has, and has really helped this project succeed. Azura read this, and is now my finaceé, that, in and of itself, makes this whole project worthwhile.

I've cured a lot of my writer's block by choosing to write everyday about a subject I know very well. That frees me up to write about things I don't know so intimately, because I know I can write.

I'm not a great writer. Others have better composed journals, or deeper insights. Or rather, they get them into their writing. I have my moments, and the moments also make it worthwhile.

I refused to place a visible counter on my web pages because they are, or were "cool". My webpage isn't "cool", it's me. I'm more of a Potsie, not a Fonzie.

But that has a price. I don't know if you are out there. Ponch will write me every now and again, when I am late, giving me a not so-subtle kick in the rear end.

But that's it. Those three are the only ones I know have read my pages in the last three months. I don't normally whine about hits. This journal is successful even if you aren't there.

But if you are, and you like this, or think it sucks, Let Me Know!. Consider it a ½anniversary present, if you will. Or don't, that's ok too.

The main reason I even bring this up, is that I wrote it on that first page, back in May. What is success for this project, and what is not?

I'll tell you the answer.

I've never done anything this long. Not something day-in and day-out. This journal is always with me, in my mind. I"m always thinking about what I'll put here, what I'll add next. How I'll describe that thing-that-just-happened. Or thinking about the next creative thing I'll do.

Because I can say it now. Without blushing, or hiding my head. I told my parents, and identified myself to others with the appellation. I'm a writer. I write. It's what I do, and who I am. It's the thing that makes me happy.

And you can't make me stop now. Not even by not talking back.

Sure, I almost disappeared. I have three weeks without real entries. Several of the ones after that where written late.

But I never gave up on the project. I was spending most of my free time on it then, too. I just had a lot less time to go around.

I asked myself last week, if I was going to do this a whole year, if that was the goal.

It was the goal, once. Now I see no end in sight. I won't stop until I can't anymore.

I'm not sure what that means, exactly. Being a professional perhaps. Being dead, certainly.

Today I can say I won't stop by any conscious choice. Only by being forced.

So happy ½Anniversary.
Tomorrow, perhaps, a retrospective.

Generic Joe's A Typical Male