Now that I've got this web site up, I've found find I'm having a heck
of a time writing entries. Its not that I don't have ideas. Things happen
every day which seem like great fodder for interesting entries. Instead
of writing about them, I open up this page and tweak that word, open up
that page and make sure the photos are aligned. I pick at every tiny blemish
on the site. Check the links. Change the pages to make the navigation
more sensible, and ...make an index for all of those exciting new journal
entries...BOTH of them!
Then
if I have extra time, or insomnia, I catch up on my or web surf, telling
myself I am going to add a weblog. Yeah.
I think
I have a serious case of blank book syndrome.
I have
a bunch of those spiffy little journal books with the blank pages--the
ones which I am seduced into buying because they are nicely designed,
and they look so inviting. Inevitably, once I get them home, I hate
to mess them up with bad penmanship, unworthy words, or lousy sketches,
so they go into a drawer until I run across them again, hidden away
and long forgotten, and I feel like Alice in Diaryland as they beg once
again,"Write in me!"
I hope
that's not going to happen here, too, after all the work I put in to
get this up and running. In the end it really doesn't matter how spiffy
your book is, it's what you write in it that counts.
Of course,
I've only just started, and I should cut myself some slack and "just
write something, but write everyday" as my old writing teacher used
to say. Did we all have the same old writing teacher I wonder?
Part
of my hesitation comes from feeling that my thoughts really might not
even be that interesting. Part of it is that I made this a site which
is not really very anonymous. My entire family and most of my friends
know it's here. Censor lights blinking "ON!-ON!-ON!" in certain areas.
Some diarists worry about what their mother may read on their sites.
In addition to my 80 year old dad, my children are reading this site.
God forbid, I should break any illusions about the moms of the world.
So, no "sex, drugs and rock and roll" from me!
What
do I want, then? What do I write on these blank pages?
I want
this to be a place to unload, to vent and to write about things which
interest me, rather than be about "me", exactly. I'm not sure that I
want it to be therapeutic. I want to share my experiences and sometimes
seriously reflect on them. I see silly and absurd things happen all
the time, and I want to write those down. I hear bits of conversation
which take me back to other times and places and remind me of stories
I'd like to write or of things from my past. I have some fictional stuff,
I would like to work on here as well. I also have strong opinions and
I want a place to put them, and the heck with what anyone else thinks.
I was
certain that if, and when I started an online journal, I would not worry
about what anyone else thought. I would just write whatever came to
mind; and I suppose I still think that may be the purist kind of journal.
But I also realize, now that I've begun, that writing in a public place
is different. I want something more, and I am not at all sure what that
is.