How depressing is it? Flicking through old writing pads and scrapbooks, what a treasure trove of hearty sadness dished up therein. All sorts of stuff, big plans, little plans, drugs, suicide notes...its all there. Everything from my old preoccupation with online games through to my "how to be a millionaire" wishlist. Old contacts and phone numbers, thats some of the most depressing stuff of all, some of it dating back 15 years. Theres an A-Z of financials, an A-Z of computer gear, A-Z of university contacts, A-Z of home plans, A-Z of travel plans...the list goes on and on. Theres a billion little doodles as well, various bits of lame art work. Discarded letters to differant people, aunts and uncles, friends, parents, even a stupid love letter or two...all works in progress, unfinished business long since past me by, long since faded from memory. If i had any sense id torch the lot of it, but theres still some fresh sheets to write on and im too cheap to buy new writing pads. ho-hum...heres to writing down some more pointless dribble, painstakingly organised, and sorted, only to be discarded at some guaranteed future date, never acted upon, just there as the ramblings of a tired, aimless, wandering soul. Long live the scribble.