I have a love-hate relationship with reading my old blog entries. That's what I've been doing the past couple minutes. I have about twenty minutes left at work, and I'm just now getting around to goofing off. Because the ol' previously trusty Hotmail account has pretty much died, I spent the first half-hour or so of work creating my new email address, transferring my contacts, and getting people onto messenger. Then I had to do stupid Quia online workbook for Spanish. That only took fourteen and three-quarter hours. I should be looking over some British lit for BarbCobb, but there is no such chance of that happening. So I headed for my hit countery-type thing to see how people have been linking to my site. I found a link where someone had searched this: "Amy Ramage" Nashville. Interesting. Anyway, I clicked on the search result, and it took me to a blog entry from last November. Oh, yeah. Why do I have a love-hate relationship with reading old blog entries? I love it because I usually remember experiencing the events I've recorded, and those are usually most forgettable events, which makes the recollection of them quite fun. But sometimes, upon reading, I cringe. I ask myself why I wrote some of the things I did. This ranges from finding typos to making unintelligible remarks to things I just wish I had never said. Too bad I don't believe in the sort of self-censorship that would allow me to go back and delete old posts.