Diaries I Read:
I�ve been thinking a lot about this journal lately. I�ve been spending some time at home uploading pictures and stuff, and B doesn�t know exactly what I�m working on. I�m not sure he cares that much, but eventually he may get curious.
B has no idea that I keep this journal. It�s just never come up. I guess there�s no harm in him knowing that it exists, but I think it might just make him wonder about what I write about.
I don�t like keeping secrets from B, and I generally don�t. But I guess I feel like we�re all entitled to our innermost thoughts and feelings and we don�t HAVE to share them with anyone. As well as I know B, there are things about him I don�t know. There are thoughts he has that he doesn�t share with me. And that�s OK. We�re still two individual people. But I�m not sure it�s OK to share these innermost thoughts and feelings with other people � complete strangers � and keep them from B.
I�ve thought about how I would feel if B had access to this journal. In a way, I think I�d like for him to read it because I figure he�d know me better. But then again, maybe it�s best to have some censorship.
I don�t write anything that I wouldn�t be willing to tell him about. But I write more and I write about about more stuff than he necessarily *needs* to know. Some of the stuff I write about would be of no benefit to B or to �us.� For instance, the whole history with J. B wouldn�t want to hear that stuff, especially laid out in such a straightforward, no-holds-barred manner. And I think a few times I�ve been a little more frank about some of my feelings about his family. I haven�t said anything that he doesn�t know, and I haven�t said anything mean � I�ve just expressed my feelings more freely than I might express them to him out loud.
I�m not sure he�d like the *idea* of there being a journal out there, floating around on the web, that publicized our business � our �private lives,� so to speak. I think he might feel like my doing this was somehow an invasion of HIS privacy.
Maybe it is. Maybe it�s wrong of me to be posting the things I do without him knowing about it. I guess if I had hundreds of readers, like pamie or someone, it would be different. But there are only a few people who read this. It�s still pretty private.
I�ve tried to protect our privacy to an extent. I don�t use our names. Only recently have I dared to use pictures.
And then I wonder, why do I do this? I mean, I�ve kept journals for years and years. But this is different. It takes on an entirely new meaning, and a life of its own, when you�re posting a journal on the web for anyone and everyone to see.
My online journal is not like my paper journals I�ve kept for close to 20 years. When you�re writing for just yourself, you don�t have to censor yourself, don�t have to choose your words so wisely. When I write for this journal, I feel this pressure to entertain. And my writing isn�t always that entertaining. And the stuff that is entertaining isn�t always all that close to my heart.
When I think about the purpose of a diary, I come up with several. One is that it just helps to work out your thoughts and feelings. I think that�s the primary reason I kept a diary throughout high school and college. I needed that mode of escape, that emotional outlet. I needed to write to figure things out. Another purpose of a diary is just a life record. I love looking back over my old journals and rediscovering myself. You forget about how you felt when you were 16, when you were 21, when you broke up with the person you thought you were going to marry, when you first met the person that you did marry.
But I think another purpose is to share yourself with other people. I think I�ve always fantasized about my granddaughter finding my journals long after I was gone and discovering the person � the girl, the young woman � her grandmother had been. I know I�d kill to have journals written by my grandparents.
I�ve thought about transcribing my old journals and adding them to this online journal. But I�m not sure I could. I think maybe they�re too honest, too personal. When I wrote them, I had no intention of ever broadcasting them to the world.
But then, what am I doing writing this journal here, which apparently isn�t �too honest, too personal� for me to share? Somehow, that means it�s lost its meaning, its soul. Like I�m just selling out.
And what is the attraction of having other people read about your life? Because I want people to read my journal. It makes me happy when my visitors count goes up. Why? Does it make me feel important? Does it validate me? Does it make me feel like my mundane existence is less mundane?
I guess having readers means that you�re entertaining people on some level. You�re writing something that makes them laugh or cry or think or rethink or wonder.
But that�s hard work, especially if you�re also trying to be honest. And sometimes I wonder if I�m being totally honest here. I don�t make up stories or exaggerate things, but I�m still not sure I just lay it all on the line like I used to in my paper journals. And that makes me wonder if I�m losing out on something. Will this journal still be something that my granddaughter could read some day and know me better through it? Can I really bare my soul and still feel OK about posting it on the worldwide web?
I don�t know. I think I�m still pretty honest here. And maybe that�s why I don�t have a huge following. Maybe that�s why I don�t truly want a huge following, when it comes down to it. I can look back at the entries about J, about my granddad, about B, and I know that they�re really me. Maybe they weren�t that interesting and didn�t hold a reader�s attention, but they were true.
Why post them, then? I don�t know. As you can see, I�ll go round and round on this one. I guess for now, posting them and sharing with others holds some value to me, like my intimate feelings and ideas are important enough for someone else to read them and say, �Yeah, me too.�
Working at home - Wednesday, Nov. 17, 2004
Toronto - Tuesday, Nov. 16, 2004
On the way to Toronto... - Tuesday, Nov. 09, 2004
A Good Day - Monday, Nov. 08, 2004
Another letter - Thursday, Nov. 04, 2004