The only thing I really had to worry about today was when and how I was going to go to the store and buy a new journal. My last one only lasted 2 weeks because my cable tv and internet was out for a few days when the tree trimmers cut a line. In times of extreme nothingness I write. Actually, I write all the time, and journals only usually last about 16 days, but this one was certainly running out of room and I had only had it maybe 11.
When I die I have it in my will (if you can call a bound book a will) that my daughter Laura will get my journals. I know she'll want to keep most of my work, my dreams, my thoughts, my energies a big fat secret but only because for the most part they are as mundane and idle as this particular blog. I mean, when I write in my journal (I say journal as if it's one book. I think I have over 250 now and that's for the past few years only. 11 entire years of journals were destroyed by my former whatever you want to call him. 11 years of writing - I probably averaged a book a month then.)
Laura won't make a movie out of my journals unless she decides to spice them up and say all sorts of things that aren't true; or if she just focused on the dream segments that could be both entertaining and interesting at the same time. I think I'll write a book covering the dreams I have had in just the past year or two because I really do write them out in my journal and try to make up meanings for them - it could amuse someone. Now, if I gave the journal to Caity...please, she'd burn them and say they went to good use. Reuben would probably pour over every word and try to make sense of my life. That would ultimately prove to be fruitless and unnecessary - the only meaning to my life is that it's MY life....I live it.
Journals have been used to determine history. Most of Blackbeard's (Edward Teach the pirate)life was determined by his writings. What we know of marinetime navigation came from journals - wait a minute. Maybe I could start writing about being something really cool and end up being in the history books like Teach himself! He died on my birthday, or rather I was born on his deathday. John F. Kennedy died on that day too. Come to think of it...journals aren't such a bad way to keep track of life now because I'm sure with all the technology we have now no one would bother to even check what I write about myself...but accept it as golden truth! No one takes the time to write these days, obviously if they did they must be telling the truth. YES, this is it. I will become...oh, I don't know, a writer, an author, I could be a teacher, no....wait, a professor! I could be a professor!
That's it, it's settled. I'm writing more about it tomorrow in my journal and when I die, and the movies come out about me...you'll see that I taught English somewhere, that I had wild and passionate dreams that could rock the tartar off of the teeth of a killer whale! (Oh, I like that...that was good. I'll use that in my book too!) Maybe I'll write something about being a mother, a good mother, a kind hearted, nature-loving, crocheting type that drinks coffee all day and probably too late into the night....and she (I mean I) blog too! That's it, I blog!
Good thing I got the journal. I need to find a pen now, I'm out of ink.