I'm a prolific blogger. I know it when it is 2am and I'm sitting in front of the computer blogging. My last post was about 12 hours ago, yet I feel like I still have so much to tell you.
I know it because I don't keep a paper diary anymore. I had one for years and years -- they ran into volumes, the pink one with the lock when I was younger, the fancy hard-backed books bound with blank paper, then the sensible black with a spiral ring -- they all lie dusty with secrets under my bed now, this love affair with my own words, and all I have is this.
I have gained an audience, lost an autobiography.
I don't do names anymore, or details, facts, or precise emotions that can be pinned down to a single person, day or moment. I distill my life for the general, stick in a few acronyms so they cannot find the name behind the moniker, and post it here -- my life as it is, for you to read and find something you like, for me to have a record, a catalyst for the past.
This wedding I was at -- surely you were at one just like it only last week; this marathon, your life feels like an uphill course with setbacks at every corner; this Monday blue feeling; this missing; this feeling of being in love; this terrible slapstick humour.
Heck, I could even be you.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
Musings after midnight
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2 comments:
all thinking pple tend to have this feeling of unspeakable loss sometimes, esp arnd this time of the year or when a life-changing event happens to them or pple close to them. Hey, move on. Thinking or unthinking, we all end up the same in the end.. dust to dust etc.. so why not just seize the day, go with the flo n enjoy?
that blog post really scared me.
I, too, stopped my hard-copy journal;
I am unmoored.
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