In my lifetime I have probably acquired something like 5 diaries with little metal locks, and 10 journals and notebooks that lay scattered in places where they are not meant to be found, and there have probably been 3 or 4 accounts on virtual diary sites. As for the diaries I have lost the locks. I have forgotten when I put the journals and notebooks. The websites unfortunately come back to haunt me every now and again, full of emo rantings from my adolescence, but I always forget the passwords. This, of course, poses a problem in trying to destroy them.
So, you see, I have a problem with consistency. I always try to start journals and things because I have this romanticized vision of handing my daughter a box of them some day and saying, "No, really. I understand. Here's proof." She will then read them voraciously, and be occasionally inspired by the insightful bits and often amused by my ridiculousness, and then she will understand me. Or, something. That was the plan, anyway, when I was about 12. So when I write, I always write to some fictional girl with dark curly hair and big brown eyes. Maybe what I'm really doing is writing to a younger version of myself, hoping that by some twist of time and space she will get my messages. I don't know.
ANYWAY, what I'm trying to explain is that it's incredibly hard for me, for one reason or another, to keep up with a journal, or in this case, a blog. I'm always really excited about it at first, and then get lost in my own little world and forget about keeping it up. That's not going to happen this time.
So, rather than write one monstrous entry about all I've done since last we met, I'm going to write psuedo-episodes. They will of course appear on the blog before this one, but I guess when you have read this, you will understand the onslaught of posts, and why they are in reverse chronological order.
Love and miss you all!
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