19 June 2011


This weekend I've been looking at some of my old diaries, which sit piled up in a dusty box in a dark cupboard. I go through stages of wanting to chuck them all away, as they are filled with cringe-worthy awfulness, usually about unrequited love - and that particular habit goes right back to my very first real diary written at the very innocent age of 15. All that wasted time pining, all those broken hearts!

What I also notice is the long detailed lists (and goals) and how, to my horror,  they haven't really changed much at all. It's the never-ending list, with the same 3kg to lose and the imaginary amazing peak of fitness that I will definitely achieve by the end of every year. What would happen if I gave up my lists? Or threw away my diaries? The thing is, I can't bring myself to do it. When I read them I remember past lives I had forgotten. I would never remember that kind of detail without them. So they are here to stay, for the meantime at least, and as a reminder to keep writing, so I don't forget.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I so love your work. :) Your art makes me happy.

As for journals.... I used to journal compulsively. Then I had a little ceremony and I burned about 20 of them. And I have burned more since. You are right, it is hard to remember details without them. But in a way, I think it is better to only remember what I can recall naturally. Keeps me in the present moment.

I liked burning them. And now when I write, I do so with the knowledge that I am writing for the process. Writing as a tool for learning. Not writing to produce a result. I no longer date my entries because I am no longer writing to record my life. I am writing as a way of experiencing my life.

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