I am going to republish here some of my blog's greatest hits. Today's entry has been selected because I was reading the archives of another friend's blog and she mentioned this piece. So here it is.
JULY 23, 2001
I've never kept a diary. I've always wanted to, though. Every so often when I'm cleaning out a closet or a desk drawer, I'll find one of my failed attempts, containing one or two entries containing the slang of yesteryear, like Babysitter's club is gnarly or New Kids are wicked and usually words along the lines of "This time I won't give up my diary!!!"
Yet, this blog thing has survived. How ? I'm not sure. I think it has something to do with the fact that I'm not writing for myself. If it's just me and a page, I almost inevitably veer towards serious introspection. There's nothing wrong with introspection in general but I'm unable to be introspective and then return to my normal life. Instead, it sucks me into an ugly quagmire bringing me face to face with my worries, my worst traits, my fear of mortality etc... it's especially bad because I usually write these abortive diaries at night which only amplifies the sense of impending doom.
A blog means I can keep things light. I can share my opinion on stuff and relate funny experiences and keep others posted on where I am and what I'm doing. There's that wonderfulness of having other people around (if only virtually) that makes a blog a joyous thing. The downside is that when I read back on it, it's a log of my life not as it was but as I hope others will see it. This is not an entirely bad way too look back on things. In 20 years when I'll want to be fooling myself into thinking my youth was a perfect, unblemished moment in time, this blog (along with my aging brain cells) will be useful tools on that quest. But where will the true fred be ? The one who can sometimes be nice and funny and jovial (though obviously not modest), but who can also be petty and dishonest and thoughtless ? She will be gone replaced by the airbrushed (and duller) Fred.
Perhaps in thirty years, I'll have matured and won't need an old diary to confront my character weaknesses. I'm not sure. Already, I feel my memory erasing my bad thoughts, the silly mistakes and the awful ones, reflecting back upon my mind's eye an idealised version of the young Fred : poor innocent virtuous child spit upon by fate... blahblahblah. Anyways, I'm including this message as a caveat to any future freds who might be walking down memory lane, reminding them that who we were was just as good as who we would've liked to be