Journals: the beginning of your friendly neighborhood bonfire
I've been busy... doing everything but blogging, it seems! Blogging got left in the dust largely due to the fact that a number of my other activities (ok, manias) involve preserving memories. I feel like a bit of an idiot spending THAT MANY hours in preserving the memory of my hum-drum life. We tell Patrick stories of AMAZING people (I had a long discussion about Marie Curie and radium just yesterday) and then I turn around and I'm like "yeah, but I microwaved cheesy roll-ups for lunch AND painted all the girls toenails! Better go preserve THAT memory in at least three formats!" It's just silly.
One of my manias is to edit and condense my journals. All theeeeeese beasts:
33, if I counted correctly. They're mostly not worth reading, but I simply love the journals themselves so I'm unwilling to throw away the covers. I'm also unwilling to rip out the innards and have a bonfire. A happy medium seemed to be to read through and type out what was interesting or memorable or funny (often intentionally so), THEN rip out the innards and have a bonfire. I'm only through 1-1/2 journals so far, and it's come to less than 2 typewritten pages - and I was being generous with what I included. In the end I should have a nice small notebook of my thoughts, and a nice heap of journal covers with zero humiliating and incriminating tidbits.