I wish I could say that I have a juicy journal.
As it is, my journal is currently dusty, dry, and about as unjuicy as a 3,000 year old corpse. (Well, the dusty part is quite literally true. The rest is understatement.)
My journal currently occupies a spot on the floor by my bed where it has lain unopened and un-writ-upon for quite some time. Months. Perhaps years, although I'm not entirely sure. Hmm. Actually, let me check when my last entry was....
(Ew! Dust!)
Yup. It's been a long time. Long time. Tuesday, July 5th, 2005. I am ashamed. And my last entry wasn't even an entry; it was me writing down a three-paragraph story excerpt I had thought up that day. I didn't even list what I had eaten for breakfast that morning! Now that's negligence, I tell you. And oh-my-heavens...my entry before that is just downright embarrassing.
Okay. Now I've remembered why I blog now instead of writing in my journal. Because a blog is public, and because I know you peoples read it, I try to avoid writing things that are too personal. Thus, when I read back through my entries, I'm not embarrassed. At least, not usually.
Unless I've written about cauliflower. Man, that's embarrassing.
Wait--I didn't? Oh.
Thank goodness. And please--slap me if I ever do.
1 comment:
I find it easier to type my journal, anyway. I resisted that for the longest time because I felt posterity would find it more personal to read my handwriting, but in the end it boiled down to the fact that typing is a lot faster. I can type out a whole paragraph in the time it takes me to write a sentence, and I can't say enough about that handy "delete" feature.
So, if posterity wants to read about my life in any sort of depth (perhaps I flatter myself on that point), it's typed or nothin' cuz I don't have time to write, especially these days.
Plus, I can email the files to myself--fire insurance.
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