It wasn't my very first attempt at an online journal -- the Angelfire site I made is still up kicking around somewhere, and I had a "rants" section in there that resembled a blog. But LJ was the one that stuck, and as you can see, while I may have migrated, I have not forgotten my first beloved journal, and I have every intention of keeping it warm and occupied until either I die or the lights go off in the data center. (And if I should die first, if any asshat should tell you that my journal should be deleted, please tell them very kindly that I would not have wanted it that way, and that you'll be honoring my wishes thanks very much.)
This particular lineage of journal was started twenty years ago in January. The US had started air attacks in the Persian Gulf, and I realized that keeping an account of my (sheltered, privileged little ten-year-old) thoughts might be valuable at least to my descendents. (I'd been reading Rilla of Ingleside.) I'd kept journals for school before, but this was the first one I was keeping for myself and my own purposes. It soon degenerated from my Deep Thoughts to my far more candid thoughts about Boys and School and similar. I kept the journal in a succession of volumes, and to this day still maintain a paper version, albeit infrequently updated.
Sixteen years ago yesterday, I had a very awkward phone conversation with my friend Bugs. He had a crush on a particular senior, and he'd walked from one high school building to the other with her. He was actually supposed to walk with me. We were going to take the path through the woods and make out. He knew about and condoned my crush on a friend of his (he'd tried to set us up, and it hadn't entirely worked); I knew about and condoned his crush on the senior. I had to convince him that I wasn't about to kill him. Once he realized that I wasn't mad, he suddenly realized that hey wait, I thought she was hot too!
This necessitated a call with our mutual friend, the single out-of-the-closet lesbian in the entire high school. (There couldn't have been more than a thousand kids there. I had to go trawl wikipedia looking for the answers, which wasn't very satisfying because then I had to go to other sources to get the frelling numbers I wanted, which weren't actually the numbers I wanted, just maximum capacity, which we'd exceeded my freshman year.) Out of our less-than-a-thousand, we had Savil, and a guy who I shall call Anton. No one else was brave enough to expose themselves to the possible static that could be generated by a school who thought that a fun joke when getting control of the scrolling LED sign in the commons was to put 'KKK' on it.
Savil asked questions, and I answered them honestly, and soon I was in possession of the nearest thing to a Certified Bisexual sign that you could get: the realization that I had a bit of a crush on this senior, and that I wouldn't be any more opposed to some hanky-panky with a woman than I would with a man, and that a Real Live Lesbian had told me that in her opinion I was bisexual.
It's been more than half my life now. I'm an adult. I started beginningcocks, which is sex-ed as well as painful hilarity. I'm helping raise a chatful of fish. I get assorted questions about sexuality, gender, and the like. My fish are a lot more aware of the various possibilities out there as far as sexuality and so forth than I was. They are aware that bisexuality exists. I wasn't until 1995 January 13. They are aware that the gender of some people's brains don't fit the sex that they were described as being at birth. Most of them may even be aware that some people are asexual.
These dates are far more important to me, and have far more directly to do with who I am from day to day, than global events. Those build the world that I live in, yes, but I build the me who lives inside that world.