Method to the Madness

January 11, 1997  Sunday

We did miss school yesterday.  This area of central Illinois has turned into a huge, white wasteland.  The windchill was (and still is) around -30 degrees.  I am not working at the Hub then for obvious reasons.  That also means it wound be an impossibility to get across the county to get rid of this lagging present of two bracelets.  Yet another week goes by before I will have another chance at seeing them…

Friday, Emma told me several times she would like to write a journal like I do. I hope she does.  It’s really not that hard. It shouldn’t be thought of as something that you have to do, but something you want to do.  I write this for enjoyment, to discover new things about myself and others.

I actually have several (more) reasons for writing.  Sure, there is the “memories” angle, and that may be the biggest, but that’s not completely it.  I have family.  I have friends.  They are all very nice to me, and would help me if I asked for it.  Yet, there are some things I don’t, or can’t readily, discuss with others as  they sit across from me.  This journal gives me a release, maybe a kind of therapy.  I can look back and judge how I acted, and decide if I really did the right thing.  Sometimes I don’t.  The letters and words of encouragement help a lot too.  And–perhaps best–I slowly get to see the rise and fall of story arcs I would otherwise be oblivious to.  Things I would have forgotten, otherwise.

I spend quite some time choosing the words I write.  This is especially true for entries when I discuss others, like “Will Reviews the Top 12,” or “Hub Update.”  I spent about an hour on the entry “Descent Into the Maelstrom of My Mind.”  For that entry it was important I used the most precise words I knew, or I could have been misinterpreted.  Perhaps I still would be.  That’s how it goes sometimes with  words. When I write I try to be dramatic, poetic, and interesting.  Perhaps sometimes I forget to insert “clarity.”  I’ll work on that.  Of course, if I were clear about what I was talking about, that would hardly be like me.

‘Til next time,


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