2004-07-09
So, Do You Think They Make Chiropractors For Diary Writing?
hearing: Tonight - Sixpence None The Richer
reading: Java 2 For The World Wide Web: Visual Quickstart Guide by Dori Smith
wearing: once v. tight, short blue and white striped dress with white johnny collar
I find that, for me at least, writing in a diary regularly and well, is like trying to keep good back posture.
It takes so much less effort to just slouch over than it does to keep one's back upright. In the end though, it does one's back damage, and it makes one's back ache terribly.
It's easier to simply neglect my diary, or compose extremely ambigious, vague entries or ill written, dull entries. In short, it's easier to "slouch" in my writing.
But it really hurts my diary, and in the end, I do find that it hurts my writing and my ability to be open. The longer I "slouch", the harder it is to get back into the habit of writing "upright".
Anyway, that's an extremely lame metaphor, but I have been slouching in my diary writing. I offered an excuse for that a few days ago though. And I suppose it must still stand for now. Although I am struggling with my writing "posturing". I promise. I'll try to do better.
I was compiling a list of all the books I have read this year for joining some book club I found, when I realized, I have only read eleven books thus far this year. Only eleven books. Eleven. If you ask me, that is wretchedly, wretchedly pathetic. That's hardly even two books a month. I should add up page numbers though. See how much everything works out to. Argh.
I would then jump out of my chair this moment and begin devouring books heartily to make up for my deficiencies, but I am not entirely sure what to read. I have read almost every book I own. I can only re-read now. I went to the library the other day to check something out, but the godforsaken library didn't have anything I wanted. No Voltaire. No Dante. No Don Quixote by Miguel Cervantes. Curse that library. And we don't have the money right now to buy me a new book. Argh. I need to find a job. Then I can allot myself just enough money to buy two new books every month. That's an excellent plan.
Ah. Nextly (not a word). I am going to go away tomorrow to my Great-Aunt's. No, not the cool one I talked of with a daughter my age, but a different one. The half sister of my deceased grandmother. I hardly know her and don't particularly like her, but there isn't anything I have found yet to particularly dislike of her either.
So I will be gone Saturday and part of Sunday. So probably no entry Saturday, although possibly one on Sunday.
Today's ambiguous, anonymous statement: "You are grossly mistaken in your views of my feelings"