more journally nonsense..
more journally nonsense..
So someone who I don’t even know commented on my livejournal. I’m sure it happens all the time, but it’s a first for me. Of course, I had to go check out the person who so commented on my stuff.. Turns out she has similar issues, and has thought them through in directions I hadnt even thought of. wistfulaffinity said:
Why would one want to post a journal entry…to display one’s experiences to the world before they’re entirely understood even by ones self…to be distorted and energetically transformed by thousands of “bloggers”. this could safely serve as an intellectually philosophical playground, only. is even that safe? throwing out everything, before confirming whether it is truely a pearl or not, to potential swine…
Driving around this morning (it’s freaking windy - a significant part of boulder is without power because of the winds, which have been measured up to 80 mph) I realized that part of the problem is the name - livejournal. Like it’s a journal. More like it’s “everyone gets to be a columnist whether they have talent for it or not”. I used to be really big on journals. I have literally dozens of notebooks that I have scribbled into at one phase of my life or other. The oldest is from 1973, a few pages away from where I get beat up by a bunch of black kids at my first day at summer camp is where I copied, by hand, the articles of impeachment against Richard Nixon, copied from a newspaper. Why I didn’t just put the clipping there, I couldn’t tell you. But Journaling was always something I used to cope with what was happening in my life. Somehow, the transformation necessary to convert some chaotic mental state into sequential words on a page allowed me to sort them out so they were a little less daunting. Whenever I have looked at my high school scribblings I usually slam the book shut after a few pages. I couldn’t have been that fucked up. I’m pretty glad that those aren’t available for anyone to read, let alone just anyone who feels like it. I’m pretty pathetic in my journal, because I’m usually at the lowest ebb, where things have gotten so crazy that I resorted to journaling. In fact, I remember covering, in my journal, just that fact, that it seemed that I was always bitching in my journal. So the difference, really, is that this is where you put things like, oh, well, lessee, how about this little story my mom sent me in email:
When four of Santa’s elves got sick, and the trainee elves did not produce the toys as fast as the regular ones, Santa was beginning to feel the pressure of being behind schedule. Then Mrs. Claus told Santa that her Mom was coming to visit. This stressed Santa even more. When he went to harness the reindeer, he found that three of them were about to give birth and two had jumped the fence and were out, heaven knows where. More stress. Then when he began to load the sleigh one of the boards cracked, and the toy bag fell to the ground and scattered the toys. So, frustrated, Santa went into the house for a cup of apple cider and a shot of rum. When he went to the cupboard, he discovered that the elves had hidden the liquor, and there was nothing to drink. In his frustration, he accidentally dropped the cider pot, and it broke into hundreds of little pieces all over the kitchen floor. He went to get the broom and found that mice had eaten the straw end of the broom. Just then the doorbell rang, and irritable Santa trudged to the door. He opened the door, and there was a little angel with a great big Christmas tree. The angel said, very cheerfully, “Merry Christmas, Santa. Isn’t it a lovely day? I have a beautiful tree for you. Where would you like me to stick it?” And so began the tradition of the little angel on top of the Christmas tree.
Isn’t that cute? And I didnt even have to fill up your mail spool , and everyone else I think has a sense of humor, with it. Oh yeah, and my mom sent me this other funny thing.. When Cats Decorate