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posts about #notesonsontag more →
The Perks And Perils Of Keeping A Diary
| posts about #notesonsontag more → |
The Perks And Perils Of Keeping A Diary |
12/15/08
Aunt C spent years looking after Grandma, and the stuff Grandma wrote about her (and Aunt C's kids, who are apparently going to hell because they're gay) in return was hateful and NOT something Aunt C should have ever had to be subjected to.
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12/15/08
That weird smell in the storage room at work is finally gone! I guess whatever died in the wall has finally rotted away. What a day!
(The above is the best thing that's happened to me today, which is why I don't keep a diary)
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12/15/08
"Ostensibly, the journal-keeper is making notes about daily life. But the journal of the writer is often more like the barre of the ballerina: she works out in front of a mirror, watching an ideal version of herself attempting difficult moves, trying to get them right. Trying to sketch a character. Compose a scene. Describe her surroundings: food, clothing, noise, furnishings, weather. Or, turning inward, anatomize a grandiose fantasy. Grope around in the muddle of her conflicts. Encourage herself."
Sontag's journal was private, but it was not an 8th grade catalogue of secrets and crushes with a big Keep Out sign on the cover.
12/15/08
I actually just set my Blogger on private access (i.e. me) only, after just being sick of being so public. That, and someone from one of my old PR companies googled my Jezebel name and came across my blog recently. Now I just have a silly little Tumblr, but I think even that will go soon. I love to write, but sometimes it gets to the point where you're writing for an audience and it seems so taxing. I don't know. I guess I could start an anonymous blog to reach out to the web, but for now, I'm back to a paper journal.
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'What we are all forgetting is that everyone's diaries look like that. We don't have much material to work with. It's fine if you're a Mitford, say - going to balls, hanging out with Hitler, inventing new words to oppress the working classes. But, for the rest of us, life is little more than a procession of meals, laundry, increasingly desultory efforts to find some curtains for the spare room, and alarmed, but ultimately clueless, reactions, to world events. If I kept a diary now, it would consist of entries such as: "Credit crisis is happening. Still don't really understand it. Looked at T-shirt with owl on it on topshop.com. Kids still not dead." '
[www.timesonline.co.uk]
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