Amongst the neat little trinkets (an Ash from Pokemon figure!) the useful (high-quality drawing pads) and the unexpected (a Cosmo magazine. Where the HELL did that come from?) I'm finding something much more interesting: my old notebooks.
The books themselves are not the point, rather the writing inside them. It's an interesting experience to go back and read what you had written years ago, and it's more interesting to see the change that has happened to you in the time since. Looking back, I hardly remember being the person I was when I wrote the material. It is said by many great sages that you are the person you are now, the person you were does not exist. This idiom could not be more apparent than when looking through past musings.
I found lyrics (some amazingly mushy, even by my standards) but most of the writings consisted of hence-forth abandoned concepts for films. Films that, at the time of writing, I had every intention of making. Budget wasn't so much of a concern (I'd find a way to create a dilapidated post-apocalyptic shanty town, how hard could it be?) my only concern was making interesting concepts, and "moments" (I would say characters, but... my priorities were placed elsewhere at the time).
I don't want this blog to become too much like my last (and first!) entry, so I'll end it here. I just thought that having this little portal to a past self was interesting, since that person by all accounts no longer exists. It's like seeing something I shouldn't be seeing; the ruminations of a specter. Someone I knew very well, and someone whom I know nothing about.
Which is why I took all of those notes and threw them away.
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