Archaeology

Most of these posts come from a morning writing session (testimonial?  rant/rave?) I’ve been doing recently.  I make it a priority first thing in the morning to turn on my computer and write a bit.  It doesn’t really matter what about—just whatever comes to mind.  I have some notes on topics I might explore at a later date.

But this is in no way, shape, or form a diary.  I never saw much use in a diary; one’s day-to-day life doesn’t change very much.  We tend to live our lives in chunks, based on school years, jobs, travel and big events.  It’s the little things that make a difference from one day to another, such as who we’ve met, what we’re working on, or what we have planned.  For a while I kept a diary, but upon entering my self-deprecating middle school years, I disposed of it, because who in the world would want to read about my thoughts and dreams?

I still feel that way about diaries, though for a different reason.  I think there are better ways of telling my thoughts than simple exposition.  Instead of a diary, I keep a journal, a “rambling” journal as I call it, and I have been faithful to this habit since the age of fourteen.  Currently I am in the middle of volume thirteen.  In these journals I make notes of ideas for stories or simply things that interest me, write poems, draw (poorly), collect quotes and the names of books that I want to read, tape interesting articles and dried leaves from the autumn.  Now, interpreting these would probably require a very talented archaeologist, but at least something exists to attest that I lived.

And now there is this.  Together they’re more a record of who I am than what I’ve done.  Honestly, I think that’s the more important thing to remember.