Finally Full

I express myself in a number of ways. Many are visual, but some are linguistic. An excellent example of this is that I have written my thoughts in some kind of journal or notebook since September 1978. There have been milestones: a first anniversary, a 40th anniversary, and a change in 1998 from big spiral notebooks to smaller hardcover volumes. At times I have made efforts to write more, including a period in 1983 when I completely filled a 200-page spiral notebook in just six weeks, essentially saying nothing. Other times I have slacked off, sometimes to my great disappointment. I wish, for example, I had written more, and more honestly, in my freshman year in college.

My most recent milestone is the completion of another journal book, number 54. Since much of my written presence is in the form of blogging, my teaching site, and our travel site, my efforts to put ink on paper fell to the side. I recently decided to change that, so, despite taking 13 years, book 54 is history.

Journal number 55 is purple!

I also wonder what will happen to these piles of ink and pulp after I’m gone. Should I donate it to a library? Would anyone ever read it? Does that even matter?

From inane teen self-pity of tenth grade to the inane middle-age self-pity of adulthood, the 54 volumes of my journals have it all.
From inane teen self-pity of tenth grade to the inane middle-age self-pity of adulthood, the 54 volumes of my journals have it all.

1 Comment

  1. “I also wonder what will happen to these piles of ink and pulp after I’m gone. Should I donate it to a library? Would anyone ever read it? Does that even matter?”

    Excellent questions, on which I also ponder. I think I’m okay with the idea that – along with my body/mind – my literary contribution to the world will eventually disappear from the world.

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