I HAVE TO SAY...THIS IS ANOTHER BEGINNING...
Several (cough) years ago, one of my high school teachers assigned us to keep a journal, where we had to write something (ANYTHING) every day for 90 days. We were encouraged to use simple essay format, but were otherwise free to choose the content. I did the assignment, (musing about things such as: why people kiss, how awful my classmates were to each other, how much I loathed my father's stir-fry, etc.) but didn't think much about whether it was interesting to others or not, as I was writing for my own enjoyment. I eventually handed in the filled black marble composition notebook at the end of the school grading quarter.
I thought nothing of it until, a few days later, at the end of our family dinner, my father announced that he'd received a call from my teacher, and that after reading my journal, she had been compelled to call him right away, and let him know that...(of course, my dad dragged out the story, building my sense of fear at what was about to follow)...it was one of the best student projects she'd ever read, (Caveat: I don't remember the exact wording...) and that she was thrilled to have read it. She also suggested that I continue to work on it and to write even more in the future, AND that my father should find some way to reward me for my good work (as if that call weren't enough!). Dad worked his way to the fridge while detailing this story, and pulled out a white bakery box filled with chocolate eclairs (which I had written about in the journal, and to which I was, and am still DANGEROUSLY drawn.)
"She also suggested," my father said, "that I please don't make stir-fry tonight."
I was completely astounded that something I could write would have any affect on another person's emotions or daily experience, let alone a POSITIVE one, and though I was EXTREMELY flattered (psyched!) about what had taken place, I was not the type to ENJOY hand-writing a daily journal. Though I had a Prodigy Network ID (look it up on Wikipedia...mine was MNNN16D) there was no e-mail address, and the World Wide Web did not yet really exist. Therefore, the concept of blogging, and writing for oneself, AS WELL AS for others (both strange and familiar) was a great and terrible idea yet to be born. So, as a dedicated music student, I shelved the idea of writing words, and ended up learning to write music instead. (To be mentioned in a later entry...) Happily, I also never let words go entirely, and now I write lyrics. (Or, I should say, I try to...)
However, having recently been forced to sort through a number of my old important keepsakes (love letters, photos of friends and some people whose names I don't even remember, and old show programs) from the dusty past, I stumbled upon that very journal I mentioned, and I was inspired to begin (continue?) this ongoing writing project.
I have:
- No lack of ideas about which to write, just a lack of time (!)
- No plan about how often I shall write
- No plan about the format I shall use for presenting these anecdotes, opinions, and wishes
- No expectation that what I write will be life-changing, important, or even interesting to most people, however, it is the beginning of the online account of my constantly-changing experience of being human.
I hope you enjoy (and perhaps, are not offended by?) what I post in the future, and I hope for responses from you in my e-mail inbox, or publicly.
- David
