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Wednesday, Nov. 07, 2001 - 12:00 a.m.

Happy Anniversary

One year ago today I started this diary.

Happy anniversary Exit 109!

Boy, how did I get here? I believe it begins with meeting a good friend in college, and her work with Mighty Big TV. My interest in their funny recaps of television shows led me to one of their recappers, who was found through his diary. Many of you know and love him as Uncle Bob. Back then he was writing as "Brad Pitt," but the real Brad Pitt's people made him stop, I believe. So I was introduced to the excitement of an online diary and signed up myself.

Choosing a name was hard. If I'd thought it through more, I would've gone with Exit 109 for the URL. Instead, under pressure, I registered "dano," enough to give a hint of my name and not reveal anything more. I have, in turn, revealed much more (including, once, accidentally, my last name, but I fixed that after finding myself on a Google search). Soon after taking "dano," I thought of "Exit 109" so I made that the name of it. Ah, well. My intent all along was to have my diary be a place I could write every day, to expand upon the thoughts and ideas I have regularly. I looked at it as a way to write a daily column on whatever I choose using whatever language I wished without any editors or anything. I planned on inputing past musings (as I've done). I was going to tell all my friends about it so they could read what I write and keep up with my life -- I even made my password (intending to have a password-protected diary) "ilovedan" just for the humor of it.

But I quickly learned to enjoy the anonymity of it, the opportunity to write about things I wouldn't be so quick to share with my friends. I never really complain about them or say anything that would offend them, but sometimes there are things that get written here that, for those who know me, might need a little extra explanation for one reason or another. But for the most part, that's not the case; and yet, there are only three people who know me well in real life who read this, and one who knows of me and will meet me soon.

Anywho, what started as my own private little online diary so quickly managed to change my life. Shall we see how?


Five hundred twenty-five thousand
six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
moments so dear
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
six hundred minutes
How do you measure -- measure a year?

In daylights - in sunsets
In midnights - in cups of coffee
In inches - in miles
In laughter - in strife

In - five hundred twenty-five thousand
six hundred minutes
How do yo umeasure
A year in the life

A year ago, we thought we had elected a new president; then we hadn't, then we did. A month later. A year ago, he won without a mandate and I couldn't stand it. A year ago, I could drive down to Highlands or Sandy Hook and see the World Trade Center towers as part of the Manhattan skyline. A year ago, I could take the PATH train from Newark to the station beneath the WTC. A year ago, I met Mia for lunch on a Friday afternoon and walked around the Financial District, past the bowling green and the famous bull, along Wall Street and into Federal Hall, and into the Borders at the World Trade Center.

How about love?
How about love?
How about love?
Measure in love

Seasons of love
Seasons of love

A year ago, the Yankees were World Champions and Notre Dame was winning football games. A year ago, I spoke of the stores' compulsion to break out the Christmas decorations the first week of November, and I see that hasn't changed.

Five hundred twenty-five thousand
six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Journeys to plan
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
six hundred minutes
How do you measure the life
Of a woman or a man?

In the past year, I've paid off one student loan and gotten my credit card bill down to 0. In the past year, I've been to South Bend, Arizona, Nantucket, Cincinnati, Chicago, Johnstown, Philadelphia, D.C., North Carolina and Florida. Since last year I've bought a few CDs.

In the last year, I've covered a minor league baseball team and met Davy Jones. I've seen Barenaked Ladies in concert twice and Cowboy Junkies and Bruce Springsteen once. I've seen baseball played at Shea Stadium in New York, Veterans Stadium in Philadelphia, Oriole Park in Baltimore, GPU Energy Park in Lakewood and Waterfront Park in Trenton. I've seen all kinds of movies in a couple of different theaters and rented many others from various Blockbusters.

Since last year, I've visited sites from "Ed" twice and the Kevin Smith movies here and there. I've been to bars on the Jersey Shore, in Chicago, in New York, in D.C., in the Cincinnati area, in South Bend and in a few airports. Since last year, I've taken lots of pictures, written lots of words, and watched lots of TV. I've worked a bit, too, but I try not to dwell on that. Since last year, I've started looking for a new job, had a few interviews, and had some decent leads. Since last year, I've signed a lease for an apartment, made the first payment (plus security deposit) and considered the hour-long commute to work I'll soon have to make.

In truths that she learned
Or in times that he cried
In bridges he burned
Or the way that she died

In the past year, I've read dozens of magazines and quite a few books. I've listened to hundreds of songs, many of them over and over, and learned scores of new lyrics. In the past year, I've given and received gifts, written and sent letters, read and returned e-mails, and rediscovered the joy of long phone conversations. In the past year, I've succumbed to the pressure of instant gratification and the convenience of owning a cell phone. In the past year, I've been to three weddings, missed a fourth, and no funerals. In the past seconds, I've knocked on wood.

It's time now - to sing out
Tho' the story never ends
Let's celebrate
Rememer a year in the life of friends

In the last year, I've made a few Diaryland contacts, and lost touch with some. In the last year, I've maintained my strongest, most important friendships, rekindled some that had been lagging, and not even come close to communicating with those two former girlfriends. In the last year, I think I've smiled quite a bit.

And although I sat down to write this out and consider where I've been and where I've grown and how I've changed in the past year, how my life has changed, I now struggle for all the little details and minutiae that remain in the far-off crevasses of my brain. Because it all comes back to one thing, one aspect, one person.

A year ago, I wasn't the man I am today. I didn't have the ability to love and be loved as I can now. I had one thing: Faith that she was out there, but not knowing when or how ... or IF ... I'd find her. A year ago, I didn't have a reason to go to Jersey City, a picture in my mind of the Inclined Plane, or an interest in the Powerpuff Girls. A year ago, I had no scented candles in my room or an autographed copy of the Cowboy Junkies' Open CD cover or a good reason for my phone bill to be higher than $10 each month. A year ago, I didn't have any Ben Folds CDs or Andy Warhol notecards or a reason to tingle upon seeing the color orange. A year ago, I didn't know a wonderful drooling cat or the hilarity of Space Ghost. A year ago, I didn't remember the fun of the monkey bars.

So, I must say, it's been a good year here on Diaryland. Thank you.

Remember the love
Remember the love
Remember the love
Measure in love

Measure, measure your life in love

Seasons of love

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Yeah, sorry I have to be all legal on you here, but unless otherwise indicated, all that you read here is mine, mine, mine. But feel free to quote me or make fun of me or borrow what I write and send it out as an e-mail forward to all your friends, family and coworkers. Just don't say it's yours, you know?