glasses & journal
i've been keeping a journal, with only a couple of breaks, since I was 13 (january 1980) -- just started volume #35 yesterday, quite a pileup of scribblings over 28 years now.
i started because my sister had a diary & I thought it was cool, so i wanted one too -- those early ones are pretty hilarious to read, lots of days when I would actually take the time to write, "nothing happened" or "totally boring" -- the teen ennui is just dripping off the pages. but somehow i stuck with it, it became a habit, and now it's a solid part of who I am -- I need to write, to make little drawings, to paste in tiny prints of photos i've taken... and the books form a memory crutch of sorts, a real core of my sense of self.
but i made an unfortunate discovery last night -- a few of my books were sitting on a shelf on the boat that had a very small leak of rainwater behind it -- the books are all a bit damp (even a bit mildewy, although thankfully only on the outside & it cleaned up easily), but in one, the ink on the bottom fifth or so of most pages has dissolved -- just washed away.
i've taken the books to my office at school to dry out, & ordered a dehumidifier for the boat -- and realize I need to re-think how I store some of my stuff here.
but in an odd way, it feels ok -- I realize a lot of why i keep a journal is simply for the act of writing stuff down, rather than necessarily going back and re-reading it later? I'd hate to lose a whole book, or all of them, but somehow i think i can deal with this funny gap in my story (from 2001, not necessarily the best year in my life anyway), will just have to try harder to remember the bits that washed away...
glasses & journal
i've been keeping a journal, with only a couple of breaks, since I was 13 (january 1980) -- just started volume #35 yesterday, quite a pileup of scribblings over 28 years now.
i started because my sister had a diary & I thought it was cool, so i wanted one too -- those early ones are pretty hilarious to read, lots of days when I would actually take the time to write, "nothing happened" or "totally boring" -- the teen ennui is just dripping off the pages. but somehow i stuck with it, it became a habit, and now it's a solid part of who I am -- I need to write, to make little drawings, to paste in tiny prints of photos i've taken... and the books form a memory crutch of sorts, a real core of my sense of self.
but i made an unfortunate discovery last night -- a few of my books were sitting on a shelf on the boat that had a very small leak of rainwater behind it -- the books are all a bit damp (even a bit mildewy, although thankfully only on the outside & it cleaned up easily), but in one, the ink on the bottom fifth or so of most pages has dissolved -- just washed away.
i've taken the books to my office at school to dry out, & ordered a dehumidifier for the boat -- and realize I need to re-think how I store some of my stuff here.
but in an odd way, it feels ok -- I realize a lot of why i keep a journal is simply for the act of writing stuff down, rather than necessarily going back and re-reading it later? I'd hate to lose a whole book, or all of them, but somehow i think i can deal with this funny gap in my story (from 2001, not necessarily the best year in my life anyway), will just have to try harder to remember the bits that washed away...