| Thursday, February
22nd, 2001
0812 APC, Someplace in France, sometime (Too lazy to look) It's been way too long since I've done this...it's become a duty, a chore, to sit down and try to recapitualate my days, my hours, my events. To what purpose does it serve really, for what reason do I spend these half hours, these hours...sitting here, typing, trying to piece together meaning from my life-extract what's important, memorable, worth *sharing* even... It is, of course, precisely for this reason I have just cited that I maintain this site. Pretty much everything here ties in together--it's all ME, my literature, my photographs, my musical gods (and the PJ Shrine btw is long overdue I know), and this, my life story. I have always, throughout my life, been an obssessive reminescent--always looking on my past with joy, always missing this person or that place. I have, and always will, cherish my time as a living being (if there really is anything that comes beyond this, even then this time will be sacred)...the people I love and that love me, the historic and the wonderous landmarks, the various places I have at one time or another dubbed "home." There are the things I have seen, either by design or happenstance...This website is my attempt to capture all of this wonder, this joy (and the sorrow and pain as well) into a collective whole, a full perspective on what it means to be Glen Vomacka...Scholar, Poet, Student, Soldier/Sergeant, Philosopher, Daydreamer, Aimless Wanderer...whatever title suits me best at whatever time...but my name is who I am, the rest is all just what. This journal was originally conceived in a vain stab at attention in some part, in a hope that others could profit from my mistakes in other part. It has existed in various forms, activity, origin, and stages of near completion. I say near completion because this site will never be completed until I am no longer alive. When I near my time...well I will have something to close it all out, and the means to implement it will be taken care of--at least that is the plan. Will it be successful in my original endeavor? That is, will others profit in some way from it, will it help others live vicariously or avoid my mistakes? I have reports, on occasion, that there are people out there who DO draw from this site. I have reports that there is a large amount of activity coming into this site. This site started small and didn't draw much attention...which is good really. When I realized that there was a very small small audience, it made me internalize this site, made it more personal--more for ME...which did some things...the first and most vital thing this did was to create a haven for myself. In my darkest hour, this journal became a string in my thin lifeline. This is where I came for assurance that I was a worthwhile living being, that I could have purpose. This journal is where I came to relate my pain, my sorrow, and my fears...so that at least a tiny bit of the burden could be transferred. Without the invention of this site (which was known as the Eolian Harp at the time), I doubt my existence would have continued. The other thing the internalization did for me was to make my resolve herein stronger. This journal was for me...with the option that others might drop in one day, as if for a cup of tea or cold lemonade. They would stay for a while, maybe an afternoon or so, chat a bit, and go on their way, never to be seen again...perhaps be a little better for it, perhaps not. I did not need a reader base to push me to continue, did not need to see page hits or bytes transfered to obligate me towards another entry. I did not develop an inflated ego or self importance. I learned that I was a man, a very simple and humble man, and that my life was not so extraordinary. I learned that my pain was not unlike any other man or woman's, and that I could, as hundreds of thousands, nay, millions before me had done, I would steer my way clear of my dilemmas without the use of drugs, alcohol, or suicide. 1155 It does seem, I admit, that every entry I have made in the past few months--outside the PLDC entries in Januray--have been of a similiar vein to this one. There is a very strong reason that this is so...in regards to this journal, everytime I sit here to type out an entry, the question of why comes to mind. When I began, I had a very clear purpose, a strong desire to write, and what i believed to be an important message to convey. I also had a Need to write -- to survive. From this purpose, desire, belief, and need came good entries, moving entries, vivid depictions at the horror I saw my life to be, of my pain and sorrow and the tidbits of joy and light that sprinkled through it. Now I write and the only purpose I have is to make a keepsake, to preserve certain things I feel memorable. I am a light year from the depression I once felt. This journal no longer moves me--I move it. I have too much control of my life to need to feel controlled. I have oft dreamed of my old age...yet it is very hazy and uncertain to me. There are so many roads I have to travel and also roads to traverse...crossroads to ignore and signposts to read. I have never believed that the life I live will be an extraordinarily long one. I have always pictured a life of maybe 70-75 years. What does that mean? It means that my life is one third over. It means that I have two thirds left to live, fifty years. I have kept a journal of some sort for about six years now, and what all has survived I have digitized. I have been solely online for about 4 years now. Do I intend to maintain this site for fifty more years? For there to be so much herein that I myself could not puruse it efficiently? For there to be days I remember something completely lost for decades even? Honestly I cannot think I will. I do not see this ending at any point...but the sheer "weight" that this site would become is hard to imagine. There have been periods of lulling ever since the beginning, yet the one I am in now is the most severe. It is indeed possible that this may be my last entry for yet another month. It may be that I write a ten page entry tomorrow. I cannot and will not say which is true, for I honestly cannot. If my life compells an entry, an entry will be written. Those of you I love and hold dear, those of you I call friend, that rely on this like a letter from me...well you may need to stop relying on it so heavily. This is not who I am, it is merely a representation of me. I think it is important to make that clear. Contact me on your own--call me, write me a letter, drop me an email...the internet is a tool, but it is not the only tool. Long before we had the internet, we had the telephone. Long before we had Microsoft Word or WordPerfect, we had the typewriter, and before that the pen. Distance is a burden, but our time is our lives, and we are responsible for maintaning our own bridges. I have shared more of myself with you in the last six years than anyone has shared with me. I do not chastise anyone for that, I do not expect the tables to turn...I do not ask or even hope. This is not an entry to make you change who you are, what you do, or how you conduct your business...This is not the long kiss goodnight. This entry is simply a statement of fact, the "State of the Journal" address if you will. I love this journal and all of it's accoutments. I love writing a provocative entry or sharing myself so deeply. I enjoy purusing past entries and reliving periods of time. I enjoy seeing how my writing progressed from the earlier years. But this journal was more a part of me then it will probably be again for a long time. I do not expect to cast it aside, I do not seek to cast it aside--I know enough to know that there will be times I turn here like I once did, that I feel the desire again, and the need. But the journal now is more of a posterity thing...it is more like a scrapbook. There have been too many entries of "I did this and I did that" which is as far removed from my original intent as possible--in fact I have condemmed these entries time and time again. This is chiefly a sounding board, and without issues, emotions, or thoughts...it's a waste of space. I can recap in one entry an entire month of activity-all I ever do is pull out the important anyway. It's when I get a bug in my brain that something will be coming out in the future. And if I can't see a bug coming, who else can? Those of you sitting there, reading this, the ones that derive anything of substance from the past entries, a kinship or an understanding...I have no doubts you understand. Those of you glazing through for pure entertainment...this is Not for You.
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