November 13, 2001 :: 12:14 a.m.
the first entry
listening to... crazy jazz that's playing in the living room.
reading... "Me Talk Pretty One Day," by David Sedaris.
feeling... kind of content.
I love the idea of keeping a journal; it turns into a sort of book of shadows (and I mean that in a strictly non-wiccan sense). I don't speak well. I mean, there's nothing wrong with the actual way that I speak, it's just that my thoughts don't seem to hold up too well when verbalized. And as such, all those things that are directly affected by communication skills... you know, relationships, jobs, life... aren't exactly what I'd call my forte. In fact, to be perfectly honest, I suck. I'm a horrible communicator. I don't even communicate with myself half the time. It's like the little self-to-self communication link that comes standard issue in all human beings was, in my case, installed by some drunken electrician and fritzes out on a regular basis. So to me, a journal is something that makes perfect sense. Instead of sitting around, scratching my head and waiting for my little communicator link to come back on, I can put pen to paper and sort things out that way. It has to be in pen, too. Pencil is horrible when you're spilling your guts about all the joyful, shameful, lustful moments in life. It makes things seem unimportant and impermanent, which of course they are, but it's a nice illusion to cling to.
My only problem with keeping journals is that, frankly, I'm lazy. I get distracted and don't write in them, and then I have to get a new one because so much time has passed, and I can't record new thoughts and experiences in the same journal I used six months ago. It seems improper to mix periods like that. It's like throwing the Rennaisance into the 1920's... it just doesn't work. You don't even know what a toaster is and all the shiny, noisy things scare the living daylights out of you. So I have piles of discarded journals in my drawers, in my closet, in the garage... I don't want to throw them away, but I really, really should.
A while ago, say two or three years, I started my first online diary. I had a website that went through innumerable hosting services, titles, and designs. I loved it. I loved that I got to create a space, to make it look any way I wanted, for as long as I wanted. I got to come up with names and layout and things (I love naming things), and it kept me amused for a long time. I actually did write in it fairly regularly, too. I never told anyone I knew about it, because god forbid someone read something they shouldn't (ha), but I liked thinking that people I didn't know were reading it. How does that work, exactly? I don't know. Maybe I'm an exhibitionist at heart. In any case, it was great fun while it lasted, but I ended it about year ago for reasons that I can't recall right now...
To make a long story short: I like online journals. I enjoy them as much, if not more so, than regular paper journals. So here we go, I guess. :)
-Amanda
back & forth
Wait, there's more!
I like pina coladas - March 30, 2005
must... finish... projects... - March 22, 2005
Mr. Postman delivers the good stuff - March 18, 2005
when everything is bad - March 16, 2005
of fruits and menstruation - March 15, 2005