4 My I’s ONLY
Whenever I tell people I journal every day, they seem to respond in one of two ways.
1. “Wow. Every day? Really? That’s…[insanity] dedication.”
2. “What do you [could you possibly] write about?”
Obviously there’s no literary genius behind my writing, as you’ve likely been able to observe from my blog; I just write about my day and anything I think is important, which usually amounts to me trying to make decisions and/or venting about the poor decisions I’ve made.
But the other day I was looking back through my entries and I decided I would give you a glimpse into the wonderment that is my journal. This will hopefully encourage those who are interested in journaling to do so because as you can see, very little mental effort needs to be involved.
Tips for starting:
Introduce how you feel. (“I feel like a loser.” ) Explain why.
Talk about yesterday. (“Yesterday was a strange day.”) Explain why.
Say what’s on your mind right now. (“I think I ate too much.”) Please offer a detailed menu.
Discuss interesting things you’ve read. (“Today I read about Balaam beating a donkey–which, in the King James version says, “Balaam smote the ass”–because the donkey could see an angel of the Lord blocking the path and Balaam couldn’t.”)
Start with a quote. (“A man’s heart plans his way, but the LORD directs his steps.”) Apply it to your life, unless it’s self-explanatory.
Here are a few sentences from non-randomly selected entries in my journal.
Welcome to my life. –Brace yourself.
I am the epitome of time-waster! Yesterday I did Step class in the morning (and walked at night), and otherwise did nothing but stare at my computer and make collages.
My phone died in the middle of the night, so I woke up at 8am with gifts still unwrapped, my parents milling about the tree, and–needless to say–it was a difficult morning.
I’m so full right now, it hurts. Ughhh.
On the plus side, we had a nice dinner yesterday.
I’ve done NOTHING this whole break except mess around on the internet. The one productive thing I did was determine I can pass the “Basic Skills” test to get my teaching license. Big whoop.
I’m going to have to break my New Year’s resolution (that lasted long) to not write, think, or speak about you-know-who because the following story won’t make sense without it.
Man. I am SICK. I thought about waking up for spin class, which is funny because that’s what my head’s been doing all day and night. Ps. I’ve decided my New Year’s resolution was lame. I’m giving it up.
Yesterday! I went to Body Step—it was a struggle—and wrote a blog and watched 30 Rock and took a nap. Talk about productive! Then I went back to the gym, walked/jogged, dropped my Nalgene (it exploded), visited Ashley, went to the winery, and watched The Words.
Note to self: I think the blog MAY have been a bad idea.
So, dating in Roswell just isn’t going to happen. This is why.
First, the winery incident—the guy was married.
Then, I did some investigating on the good-looking guy at the gym: also taken.
Then, I went on a “date” last night. It was a set-up. C.E. told me he was muscular and in his early 30’s. Correction: he’s built like a pitbull (no neck, mind you) and is not what I envisioned when she said muscular, not to mention he looks like he’s made of leather and is at least 40 years old. No. No, no, no, no.
Friday at last, Friday at last…Thank God Almighty, it’s Friday at last! (my tribute to the Rev. Dr. MLK in honor of his holiday this week.)
I had super weird dreams last night. The first was about C.E. who got caught making out with her ex-husband. What were you thinking!? Then I was at the public library, weaving back and forth through the aisles on some quest. One of the aisles had FOUR celebrities, including James Earl Jones and Bill Clinton (I’ve forgotten the others). Then we—me and some fancy woman—had to escape, and we did so by jumping in a muddy river and covering ourselves with mud.
I wish I could remember the other celebrities.
There’s an episode of Seinfeld where George does something, like give up sex or women or dating, and he suddenly becomes super productive—and even smart (while Elaine becomes the opposite), and I realized I am like George. I’ve given up the idea of having a social life in Roswell, and I’ve suddenly become productive.
Tuesday was non-eventful, other than wearing myself out at the gym AND not eating ice cream!
“It’ll be March by the end of the week” (to be sung to the Nelly Fertado lyrics: “I’ll find out by the end of the night”).
March 1 (written as 3/1/13 and noted as “a palindromic date”)
It’s MARCH! Four weeks from yesterday is the start of Spring Break! Not that I’m counting.
Yesterday was an overall good day! I started my gratitude journal, but there was a pen incident which forced me to quit.
I’m having second thoughts and a mild panic attack about the CIA (perhaps I shouldn’t have applied.)
SO. MUCH. TO. DO. Last night I didn’t even WISH to be drinking.
This time change is ridiculous. Who likes to “Spring forward” anyway?
I DID, in fact, walk what must have been 26 miles. I began at 9am and finished at 6:30pm. That’s 9.5 hours. It took longer than anticipated.
Yesterday was bad. I had a lot of things going unfavorably, most notably the San Francisco fiasco. I should have never joined that traveling companion website.
To address the San Fran issue, Ms Mc’s advice was to say: “I’ve decided against prostitution!” Then she understood I needed advice for what to say to my ex-boyfriend’s sister-in-law, whom I already told I was visiting San Francisco, and her advice was more along the lines of “It turns out I’ll be unable to come.”
Today is Good Friday. Perhaps I can not only avoid meat, but also ice cream. Let’s try that, Jenny.
So, I took off my pants in the middle of the night and I don’t know why. I imagine I was hot, but it was very strange.
To conclude: A moment brought to you by 30 Rock
Jack: How about the most we can spend on each other’s gifts is zero dollars?
Liz: Oh really? You want to exchange creative gifts? Oh—well—you are the one who’s in trouble now buddy because creativity to me is just like a *explosion sound* like a bird, like a friendly…bird that embraces all…ideas that like…shoots out of its eyes…all kinds of beauty.
Jack: Wow, Lemon, this is like watching Hemingway write.