Dear Blog
My very first blog. Hurray. Now how do I begin...
My mind went blank again. Everything has gone black.
It's this feeling of wanting to write down (or maybe type) all your thoughts, all your angst, all that's inside your head. But you don't where to start, or how to start.
The black hole. The thought is somewhere there. I just need to find the light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak.
I kept a diary for a couple of years, back in college. Not your dear diary kind, it was more like a daily planner. It documented everything that happened to me, every mundane activity during the day. From who called to what I ate. From what I felt to how I reacted.
After more than a decade of keeping those artifacts, I read them once again and I cringe. Pathetic. What the hell was I thinking? Who are these people? I ate donuts for a week? I had the evidence. After embarrassing myself with all the reminiscing, I realized I was smiling the entire time. Because I was able to document all those memories, a lot of which were drowned into my subconcious.
Yes, the black hole. My memory may fail me, but I got back-up. And it would certainly be a blast from the past.
Do I intend to relive my habit of documenting my day-to-day activities? Maybe not. But it wouldn't hurt to type my thoughts, a.k.a. make a "blog" entry. Because I'm hoping I'd still remember how to open my blog when I'm 80 (heaven forbid some new technology takes this away, I should have stuck it out with keeping a planner), and remember, reminisce, laugh, and probably cry. Those were the good 'ole days. And yes, I remember.
So here's another entry to my black hole. Which may not be so black anymore.
My mind went blank again. Everything has gone black.
It's this feeling of wanting to write down (or maybe type) all your thoughts, all your angst, all that's inside your head. But you don't where to start, or how to start.
The black hole. The thought is somewhere there. I just need to find the light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak.
I kept a diary for a couple of years, back in college. Not your dear diary kind, it was more like a daily planner. It documented everything that happened to me, every mundane activity during the day. From who called to what I ate. From what I felt to how I reacted.
After more than a decade of keeping those artifacts, I read them once again and I cringe. Pathetic. What the hell was I thinking? Who are these people? I ate donuts for a week? I had the evidence. After embarrassing myself with all the reminiscing, I realized I was smiling the entire time. Because I was able to document all those memories, a lot of which were drowned into my subconcious.
Yes, the black hole. My memory may fail me, but I got back-up. And it would certainly be a blast from the past.
Do I intend to relive my habit of documenting my day-to-day activities? Maybe not. But it wouldn't hurt to type my thoughts, a.k.a. make a "blog" entry. Because I'm hoping I'd still remember how to open my blog when I'm 80 (heaven forbid some new technology takes this away, I should have stuck it out with keeping a planner), and remember, reminisce, laugh, and probably cry. Those were the good 'ole days. And yes, I remember.
So here's another entry to my black hole. Which may not be so black anymore.
posted by annagar at 10:18 PM
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