During the first two months of my sophomore year in high school, I was inspired to keep a journal. My closest friend was doing it, so monkey see, monkey do. It was a useful way to keep track of my life, to practice my writing, and to get out thoughts and feelings I would not otherwise express externally.

For the record, it was not a diary. Diaries are for girls: Journals are for boys.

I kept journals for the rest of high school and into college. After the first year, however, my desire to record my life waned. I didn’t feel a need to write down as much as I did before, and it took me a while to realize why this was. I initially credited this to keeping busy or being lazy. Writing everything down became a burden and chore and it did not represent the same things it did in high school. So I stopped.

The truth is… I never stopped writing. My journaling took on another form, one I didn’t realize until a few years later.

When I began my first semester of college, one of the first things I began using was the relatively new-to-me medium called e-mail. I think I first discovered e-mail when my mom started using AOL in the mid 90’s. I didn’t really think much of it and was much more interested in the capability of talking to my friends online instantly. But e-mail quickly became a favorite way to communicate with my friends when I couldn’t IM.

School transitioned my habits and relationship with e-mail. As per the instructions from the IT office, I setup Outlook Express to download all my mail from the server so that I could store it on my computer. In 1997, I doubt we were given much storage space in which to store e-mail archives.

This practice of downloading my e-mail never changed, even with the rise of web based systems such as hotmail and yahoo. I always wanted to store my mail on my computer since there were times I would receive mail that I wanted to refer back to, even if it was just for nostalgic reasons.

E-mail became my journal. The fact that I am able to keep everything I receive and send is my log. To this day, I have thousands of e-mails and over 10 years worth of it sitting in my Outlook Express. I don’t save everything written to me or sent to others, but I always try to save meaningful mail, whether good or bad, to represent those moments in my life. This is also a way for me to jog my memory about someone I haven’t spoken to in a while or to recall certain things we said to each other.

I still have my journals boxed away. It’ll be interesting to someday get back into those and read the memories I kept and see what I said about the things I did, the girl I dated and the people who affected my life. I sure hope I surprise myself; I hardly remember much of what I wrote but I do remember the way I wrote and how I kept track of certain things.

Keeping track of my life is more important than ever. Realizing how quickly my memories fade scares me.

Last night was my first social night in weeks. I’ve spent the last few weeks staying at home, being frugal and not spending much so that I can save money and use what I do have for the things I enjoy. It’s been a test of my patience and discipline, but it’s what had to be done given my circumstance.

Room 5 sits just above Amalfi on Le Brea. I arrived a few minutes late only to find out his performance didn’t start until 8:30. Already, it being 10 past 8, the room was completely full with every seat taken. But the crowd slowly filled out. By the end of his performance the place was more than overcrowded. Sweat was dripping down my armpits as the temperature rose several degrees. My body is already too hot as it is.

I went to support my friend. I enjoy going to see my friends do what makes them happy. This night did not disappoint. Standing tall and peering over several people, I clung to a column as I watched six guys sing their hearts out. My friend had two solos throughout the performance, but you knew this was only one of many performances. Sadly, his mic was too quiet.

If you’ve never heard a boy band or barbershop quartet, the one thing you are missing out on is voices that harmonize in such a way that it makes your arm hair stand straight up. These six guys had a really exciting stage presence, with beautiful harmony throughout each song.

A thirty-five minute performance ended with a very desired encore. The room, full of the best and worst of hollywood, cheered and shouted for more. This was just one night, everyone knew what they wanted and the following musicians waited their turns to make their impressions.

“They’ve got nothing on you,” texted one guy to his friend. Whoever he was talking to must have been in the game for a while because this group I watched was so on last night.

Following the encore, we preceded downstairs to have drinks. I became my usual self, standing alone, checking my phone for text messages and doing whatever was necessary to look like I wasn’t bored or alone. It wasn’t before too long that I met some mutual friends who were there supporting the same friend I was. So small talk and minutes passed as I waited for our next move.

Red Rock on Sunset is a popular place for drinks. On any given night, you’ll find a typical collection of the west coast attitude; girls who dress to look their finest and guys who arrive for their drinks and sights. I stood around for about thirty minutes waiting on the group to arrive. I felt the need to make sure that I wasn’t alone; ordering a drink when no one I recognized is kinda sad, and I definitely didn’t want to be seen as desperate. However, this was a good night for me. I got several looks from the ladies but did not grow large enough testicles to make any moves.

Several drinks and good conversations later, it was time to call it a night. I’m proud of myself for how much I spent. Even if it wasn’t for parking meters on Sunset, I spent the least I’ve ever spent going out in Hollywood: $1.40 and a few gallons of gas. I paid for not one of my drinks (I had four and a half total). When it comes to living the frugal life in hollywood, it’s all about who you’re with and what you do. It’s not impossible, but it takes a little strategy.

If there was ever something of which I could be very proud, it would be my name. It is very possible, and I’m sure just as likely, that I am the lone person in my country who bears the combination of my first and last name. Out of nearly 6.6 billion people in the world, my chances of only carrying my name is hopefully one is nearly 6.6 billion.

According to namestatistics.com, Micah is the 520 most common male name in the US. Approximately 21,000 US born males, or 0.002% of the US males, are named Micah whereas only around 2500 females have the same name. Strangely enough, I’ve met almost as many females named Micah as I have males.

It is also mispronounced or misspelled quite often, such as mee-ka and Micha respectively. It’s humorous that Micah and Michael are so closely related and yet frequently are pronounced differently.

Since I began this site, I have consciously and purposely left out any mention of my last name. Not once before now is my last name referred to in relation to me and I’ve done this out of privacy concerns. Time has taken its toll in the last five years of writing online and now the number one search result for my full name is this website. So, obviously, there is no secret and I have nothing to hide.

Cambre is 24851 most common last name with only about 1250 people total with this last name, which is .0005% of all US citizens. Although this name is quite often mispronounced and/or spelled wrong, it’s an uncommon surname and thus makes it unique. So together, my name Micah Cambre is quite a unique combination of first and last names.

Ever since I was a child, I have admired my first and last name. I’ve always believed it to be a name that would resonate with others because of its uniqueness. Neither name have become famous enough to penetrate the norm. So the combination of Micah and Cambre have made me quite proud to bear these names.

I’ve been asked several times in my life how I was named. The origin of my name is in the Old Testament of the Bible. There is a brief and lonely book near the end named Micah that has only 7 chapters. Because of my background and my name’s association with this book, most assume it was romantically inspired from this book of the Bible. Whether that’s true or not, the fact is that my dad’s youngest sister thought up my name and my parents liked it. That’s it.