I've done the unthinkable. They said it couldn't be done, that I was crazy, that I shouldn't dare. But I did it.
I took up a diary.
Not a blog, or a vlog, or a 4-year installment of Myspace bulletins. These methods were proving fruitless. Why? Because other people were reading them. They even grew to a point where people would send in requests. They EVEN grew to a point where my bitch of an ex-boyfriend got mad because I didn't talk about him enough in them. So picked up a pen, an empty journal I got from one of the schools I was accepted to, took a deep breath, and began a flurry of personal thoughts. The shameless delight in writing things that were difficult for mySELF to read before me, in print, where any literate person could discover my innermost obsessive-compulsions, was... shamelessly delightful.
I simply must endorse the written diary. Not even blogs set to private generate the kind of satisfaction as does one's own chicken-scratch handwriting. And it's awesome, because I know this diary is for ME. I can write whatever I want. I can talk about what I had for dinner, then launch into a 45-minute episode over some guy I passed at the airport. I can come off as clingy, pretentious, ugly or sexy as I want. I can list all the things my vagina has ever smelled like (the list is large and getting longer day by day). And without the convenience of typing at 97 words per minute (love ya, Mavis Beacon), writing in a diary allows me to mull over my thoughts; to take them in. Gah, I hate ending sentences in prepositions, but I couldn't figure out any superior way to write that sentence. In my diary, I can end my sentences in prepositions. Maybe my brain speaks in prepostion-ended sentences. What literary critic is going to log on to my written diary and scathingly denounce my misplaced prepositions? NONE! Because you can't log on to or hack a piece of paper! Though you could cut it beyond recognition with a pair of scissors if you really wanted... but that would just be rude, unless you were making snowflakes.
I chuckled in my head a little bit because I realize I'm using a blog to write about my diary.
So, whether or not you actually enjoy writing, you probably enjoy thinking, or talking, talking shit, talking about your life, or maybe just whining... in a diary, it's all good. It's excellent for sorting out your thoughts in ways you could never imagine (sorry, my Callan Pinckney is showing). It's like dreaming, without the psychoanalytic sexuality and people in pink hippo costumes.
So yeah, having a diary is great. Having a blog is great too though, because this is where I can be smarmy and fire off witicisms as fast as they come to me.
Things From Which I Derive Pleasure
-Proper grammar (note the proper preposition placement in the title of this segment)
-Getting more praise than I can take in at once
-Those instances where I KNOW I look good
-Feeling my back... it's so soft and smoothe
-That "Aha!" sensation when I've just figured out something complex
-Philosophy (mainly because of the "Aha!" sensation)
-Being surrounded by people I know and whose company I enjoy
-When people address me by name ("Bye, J-Mil!" "Jessica... your radiance astounds me")
-Shopping when money isn't a big concern
-Knowing that there are people out there who really do like me
-Dresses. Especially vintage ones
-Sharpies, of any color
-Having fun and creative projects
-Anything involving the word "creative"
-Just the word "creative" itself
-Tempurpedic mattresses
-Cuddling
-Cuddling on tempurpedic mattresses (people... WE CAN MAKE THIS HAPPEN)
-That healthy feeling after I've just eaten an apple
-LOLcats
-Being "the only one who ________" in almost any respect
-Feeling like the sexiest bitch at the party (however blue such a moon rises)
-My impossibly soft zebra blanket
-Colors that look awesome together (lime green, neon blue and yellow are a force for good in the world)
-Incoherent doodling for which I can totally improvise symbolic meanings
-When a teacher is overwhelmingly proud of me
I'm in a very odd state of being right now. I haven't done anything that would make me especially happy today... Well, I made a kick ass mug at Clay N' Latte. Then I came home and did Callanetics. But I feel, like, ridiculously good right now.
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