Before I was a dedicated blogger, I regularly made log entries in journals. It first began when I was in junior high. I always had a hard time going to sleep, and my parents wouldn't allow me to watch television or make noise that would wake up either them or my five brothers or three sisters, so I was forced to find silent activities to fill my nights; at least until I would pass out from exhaustion around three o'clock.
I would occasionally write letters to people, mostly my family but also politicians, famous people, muses from school, people in history. I would steal stamps from my father and mail them. I got a kick out of sending Napoleon a letter at Waterloo, Jesus at Jerusalem and Siddhartha under the fig tree. I would put all the return addresses as the Lune of the Sun, Epicenter of the Solar System.
My primary activity was reading. This provided ample entertainment and challenges, for I would often read based upon the difficulty of the material. I became excited as to how quickly I was able to assimilate information. I would read a book almost every night at first, but as the content grew more complex that rate slowed accordingly. I went from reading Steven King to Nietzsche in a matter of months.
I eventually found a middle ground that I was comfortable with and developed an affinity for certain authors like Dostoevsky, Salinger and Camus, amongst others. I was given the publication of the notebooks of Camus as a Christmas present and I thought it was a marvelous idea that I should record my thoughts just as these people had in the past. I thought it would help me bond with these minds that I had come to idolize.
I dedicated a math notebook as my first journal. I filled it with letters, rants and mind garbage while I left around ten pages for a year's notes (I wrote very small notes and would use the same sheet of paper for about a dozen assignments, my teacher hated me but couldn't deny my efficiency).
Since then I have always had journals and filled them with regularity. For about 4 years I went through a brief bout of depression-I called it self rebellion. At that time I refrained from everything that made me happy and comfortable. I would force myself into foreign situations where I had no idea how to react. I kept doing this until I figured that I strayed enough from who I was and that it was now time to find a middle ground. Luckily my journaling became a part of that middle ground.
I picked up where I left off but wasn't able to log with such regularity for now I had a social life, a love life, a family life, an academic life, a career all to juggle simultaneously. And having such pressures hasn't allowed me the time to be incredibly moody and in a cool blue seclusion as I had been so frequently before I sold my life to obligations. But I still found time to jot down entries here and there.
Sometimes I look back on these logs and wonder if anyone else would even be interested in reading what went on in my head throughout my life. Recently I decided to make each physical log into a blog. This provides three solutions: 1.) I would have these entries in a data format which is easily tranferable and preserved, 2.) It allows me a sort of electronic autobiography, and 3.) I can satisfy the mental expositionist urge and lay myself down before all the prying eyes both critical and uplifting.
So with much ado, I will begin the task of transferring the little black log into this blog.
I would occasionally write letters to people, mostly my family but also politicians, famous people, muses from school, people in history. I would steal stamps from my father and mail them. I got a kick out of sending Napoleon a letter at Waterloo, Jesus at Jerusalem and Siddhartha under the fig tree. I would put all the return addresses as the Lune of the Sun, Epicenter of the Solar System.
My primary activity was reading. This provided ample entertainment and challenges, for I would often read based upon the difficulty of the material. I became excited as to how quickly I was able to assimilate information. I would read a book almost every night at first, but as the content grew more complex that rate slowed accordingly. I went from reading Steven King to Nietzsche in a matter of months.
I eventually found a middle ground that I was comfortable with and developed an affinity for certain authors like Dostoevsky, Salinger and Camus, amongst others. I was given the publication of the notebooks of Camus as a Christmas present and I thought it was a marvelous idea that I should record my thoughts just as these people had in the past. I thought it would help me bond with these minds that I had come to idolize.
I dedicated a math notebook as my first journal. I filled it with letters, rants and mind garbage while I left around ten pages for a year's notes (I wrote very small notes and would use the same sheet of paper for about a dozen assignments, my teacher hated me but couldn't deny my efficiency).
Since then I have always had journals and filled them with regularity. For about 4 years I went through a brief bout of depression-I called it self rebellion. At that time I refrained from everything that made me happy and comfortable. I would force myself into foreign situations where I had no idea how to react. I kept doing this until I figured that I strayed enough from who I was and that it was now time to find a middle ground. Luckily my journaling became a part of that middle ground.
I picked up where I left off but wasn't able to log with such regularity for now I had a social life, a love life, a family life, an academic life, a career all to juggle simultaneously. And having such pressures hasn't allowed me the time to be incredibly moody and in a cool blue seclusion as I had been so frequently before I sold my life to obligations. But I still found time to jot down entries here and there.
Sometimes I look back on these logs and wonder if anyone else would even be interested in reading what went on in my head throughout my life. Recently I decided to make each physical log into a blog. This provides three solutions: 1.) I would have these entries in a data format which is easily tranferable and preserved, 2.) It allows me a sort of electronic autobiography, and 3.) I can satisfy the mental expositionist urge and lay myself down before all the prying eyes both critical and uplifting.
So with much ado, I will begin the task of transferring the little black log into this blog.
posted by T.S. Idiot at 9:56 AM
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