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Journaling
Oct. 3rd, 2015 08:43 amWhen I was 6 or 8 years old, I had my first diary, a hello kitty one lined with pink margins. I only had a few entries. One was about my cat, Furball, meanest cat in the world, who had been run over by a car. The other was about "hatred" for my mom, for what I'll never know. But that seems normal with children and parents.
I began like this, journaling about my feelings over the things I encountered in my world.
When I recently moved to Alameda, I carted a 30 lb suitcase, which is filled with almost every single journal I've had since that one, except for the ones that I burned because they were during the time I was lamenting my lost relationship with Patrick.
The tanbur prince is the Patrick of my 30's. I got fatigued of writing and pining for him, similarly, after many dedicated entries. Perhaps I can succeed in not repeating this pattern in my 40's.
Is fantasy a survival mechanism?
There is a small brown, recycled cup in front of me. I sip acrid coffee from it. Why not just always carry a reusable cup with me? My footprint, Goliath-like, as with most Americans.
We can take nothing with us.
I began like this, journaling about my feelings over the things I encountered in my world.
When I recently moved to Alameda, I carted a 30 lb suitcase, which is filled with almost every single journal I've had since that one, except for the ones that I burned because they were during the time I was lamenting my lost relationship with Patrick.
The tanbur prince is the Patrick of my 30's. I got fatigued of writing and pining for him, similarly, after many dedicated entries. Perhaps I can succeed in not repeating this pattern in my 40's.
Is fantasy a survival mechanism?
There is a small brown, recycled cup in front of me. I sip acrid coffee from it. Why not just always carry a reusable cup with me? My footprint, Goliath-like, as with most Americans.
We can take nothing with us.
