The journalworld buzzes... those who spend part of their day telling of what they've done, or who they've done or things they think the world wants to know sat back in shock today as a mirror was held up... and there we were.
Okay, not everyone, but, some of us...okay, I sat back and thought about it for awhile when I wasn't sweating. Yes, for an entire 7.23 minutes, it consumed my attention. Let's be honest, I live in a five floor walk up under the roof. I sweat quite a bit these days without the lovely air conditioned flat.
Why do people journal online?
A mother's prompt answer to the question why is always, because.
Because I can. Because I want to. Because it's free.
Free is good.
No one reads me unless they want to, and, to be dead honest, my reading audience of 47 people isn't going to cause riots if I quit.
Still, it's a valid point made in the short short I read today...not to mention a well written short short. Thanks, Mr. LaBute. As always, your words hold up that mirror that makes us go, "Wait a minute...does he mean... me?"
Personally, I know it's not me... again, blather, 47 readers.... I bore myself.
I am not a writer by any stretch of the imagination. I play with words, I force my aunt and my friends to listen when I've put together enough of them to make a short short... I have to yell them to my aunt, who always says, "Oh, Boo.. that's COULD YOU GRANDBABIES BE QUIET! I'M LISTENING TO YOUR AUNT BOO!!... are you finished yet? You could be Tennessee Williams."
Not really, Aunt A, he was male, gay and he had amazing talent.. although your sister is the basis for most of his alpha female characters.
When I'm low on myself, Aunt A is the one I call.
Why do people journal? The same reason they always have... to leave something of themselves behind. We used to write in lovely bound books, sometimes editing ourselves, sometimes spilling out secrets we thought no one would ever discover...if they were secrets we thought no one would discover, why write them down?... it's the same process here.
I have this journal, one I give out to friends and some family members (pffffffffttttttt Mother) so they can keep an eye on my life and know if I go a few days and don't write, it's time to worry the terrier is having me for dinner. And breakfast. And lunch... you get the idea.
I have another one.
No one knows about that one... it's chock full of my secrets. No names (I hear a sigh of relief from a number of people) but, my life is there, in full techicolour. Sex, lies, childhood (what little I remember of that wreckage) soul aches, all of it... no links, no way of knowing it's me.
Live with it, you won't find it anywhere.
When I reach the point where I'm saying, "Oh, look! A new dress!!" every day, and it's the same cotton number, I won't find it either.
Since it's not built in under firefox, you have to know the name and password... no use trying that....
Is it of any interest to anyone?
Is it all me me me?
Of COURSE it is.
That's why it's called a journal... however, with this lovely technology, it's locked, blocked, and tied down. You can't access it, read it, look at it, or post to it... I love the fact it exists.
The bad thing is, my handwriting suffers... but, can I type like a jack russel terrier on speed.