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Thread: Who Reads Your Journals?

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    Default Re: Who Reads Your Journals?

    Quote Originally Posted by AzJon View Post
    the more debauchery filled stretches of my life
    PM me, I want to know ;P

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    Default Re: Who Reads Your Journals?

    Quote Originally Posted by AzJon View Post
    Quote Originally Posted by Brilliant Bill View Post
    Quote Originally Posted by Wuddus View Post
    Most of my writing is just me exploring thoughts and ideas, and is done on a4 pads. They are meaningless to anyone else, and if anyone else asked to read them, I would say no.

    Even I don't read more than three or four pages back, as that's what I was thinking a while ago, not what I'm thinking now. When the book/pad is filled, I throw it away and start another. It has served it's purpose, but is of no more use to me than used toilet roll. Both of them get covered in shit, disposed of, and I move on with life. I also don't want either being surveyed by anyone else.

    I don't care what I ate last week, or what I was thinking last week. I don't care what the weather was like, or what happened in the garden, or what two neighbours were bickering about. I won't care next week either. That was then, this is now.
    Such an attitude makes me wonder if the gift of life wasn't wasted here. Makes me feel very sad the singularity of life could be treated so cavalierly.
    Oh Bill, you make the nihilist in me chuckle.

    It is possible for life to have meaning, profound meaning, without documenting it. If not giving a hoot about documenting one's existence is "cavalier" I would shudder to think what you would label the more debauchery filled stretches of my life have been.
    It's not about the documenting or lack thereof. What triggered my response was the uncaring. The "I don't care" and "I won't care." For me, life is about caring, whether you document that or not. And caring has to do with remembering.

    Since you are in AZ, I'll give you an example from my time (20 years ago) in Tucson publishing Web sites for Intuit. One afternoon after work I came across another employee in the parking lot; he had locked his keys in his car. A few of us gathered around trying to help. One was a janitor working in the building, and I can still see him saying, "I'm Mexican. You can't keep me out of a car." I still remember both those people because I care about them and their lives. The fellow employee was a fascinating itinerant tech support worker. In the tax season, he'd do telephone tech support for the Turbo Tax program by Intuit. At other times he'd work for Microsoft when they were rolling out new software. He sort of followed the software seasons. I thought it was an amazing way to live, and I wonder how he's doing today, given that he's still with us. He was also the only other person I've met who was born on the same exact day I was. I also wonder about that janitor, such a delightful and engaging personality. What car is he getting into today? What family cherishes him?

    I've never written any of that down, yet I remember because I care. Maybe I spent too much time working with addicts for whom nothing mattered but the present moment. Get the fix you need this minute, nothing else, past or future, matters. Perhaps that colors my perceptions.

    Given that you're in Flag, you may or may not know there is a liveview cam there, done by people who like watching trains. It's on the train station overlooking the tracks -- with a good view of the comings and goings at the Lumberyard...

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jsAGE3Yq74M

  3. #23
    Senior Member AzJon's Avatar
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    Default Re: Who Reads Your Journals?

    Quote Originally Posted by Brilliant Bill View Post
    Quote Originally Posted by AzJon View Post
    Quote Originally Posted by Brilliant Bill View Post
    Quote Originally Posted by Wuddus View Post
    Most of my writing is just me exploring thoughts and ideas, and is done on a4 pads. They are meaningless to anyone else, and if anyone else asked to read them, I would say no.

    Even I don't read more than three or four pages back, as that's what I was thinking a while ago, not what I'm thinking now. When the book/pad is filled, I throw it away and start another. It has served it's purpose, but is of no more use to me than used toilet roll. Both of them get covered in shit, disposed of, and I move on with life. I also don't want either being surveyed by anyone else.

    I don't care what I ate last week, or what I was thinking last week. I don't care what the weather was like, or what happened in the garden, or what two neighbours were bickering about. I won't care next week either. That was then, this is now.
    Such an attitude makes me wonder if the gift of life wasn't wasted here. Makes me feel very sad the singularity of life could be treated so cavalierly.
    Oh Bill, you make the nihilist in me chuckle.

    It is possible for life to have meaning, profound meaning, without documenting it. If not giving a hoot about documenting one's existence is "cavalier" I would shudder to think what you would label the more debauchery filled stretches of my life have been.
    It's not about the documenting or lack thereof. What triggered my response was the uncaring. The "I don't care" and "I won't care." For me, life is about caring, whether you document that or not. And caring has to do with remembering.

    Since you are in AZ, I'll give you an example from my time (20 years ago) in Tucson publishing Web sites for Intuit. One afternoon after work I came across another employee in the parking lot; he had locked his keys in his car. A few of us gathered around trying to help. One was a janitor working in the building, and I can still see him saying, "I'm Mexican. You can't keep me out of a car." I still remember both those people because I care about them and their lives. The fellow employee was a fascinating itinerant tech support worker. In the tax season, he'd do telephone tech support for the Turbo Tax program by Intuit. At other times he'd work for Microsoft when they were rolling out new software. He sort of followed the software seasons. I thought it was an amazing way to live, and I wonder how he's doing today, given that he's still with us. He was also the only other person I've met who was born on the same exact day I was. I also wonder about that janitor, such a delightful and engaging personality. What car is he getting into today? What family cherishes him?

    I've never written any of that down, yet I remember because I care. Maybe I spent too much time working with addicts for whom nothing mattered but the present moment. Get the fix you need this minute, nothing else, past or future, matters. Perhaps that colors my perceptions.

    Given that you're in Flag, you may or may not know there is a liveview cam there, done by people who like watching trains. It's on the train station overlooking the tracks -- with a good view of the comings and goings at the Lumberyard...

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jsAGE3Yq74M
    Indeed, Bill. I also have worked with addicts and understand where you are coming from. However, the other side of that coin is releasing attachment to wants and the physical world. To accuse someone that their gift of life was "wasted" comes off to me as dark, and cynical, and counter to your apparent caring for others. If ideas, good and bad, are written down and not thought of again (a great trick for insomnia, by the way), how does that equal a wasted life?

    I understand what Wuddus means, and that is perhaps the difference. I don't care (nor does anyone else) that I've eaten oatmeal for breakfast for 15 years. I don't feel compelled to remember that it was rainy yesterday, at least not enough to make permanent record of it. Nothing we do is of any particular importance, not on the large unknowable scale of everything. We just do and are and then we are gone.

    I was unfamiliar with that webcam. There is another one on top of the tracks that has a larger view of the downtown area.

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    Default Re: Who Reads Your Journals?

    Quote Originally Posted by Brilliant Bill View Post
    Quote Originally Posted by AzJon View Post
    Quote Originally Posted by Brilliant Bill View Post
    Quote Originally Posted by Wuddus View Post
    Most of my writing is just me exploring thoughts and ideas, and is done on a4 pads. They are meaningless to anyone else, and if anyone else asked to read them, I would say no.

    Even I don't read more than three or four pages back, as that's what I was thinking a while ago, not what I'm thinking now. When the book/pad is filled, I throw it away and start another. It has served it's purpose, but is of no more use to me than used toilet roll. Both of them get covered in shit, disposed of, and I move on with life. I also don't want either being surveyed by anyone else.

    I don't care what I ate last week, or what I was thinking last week. I don't care what the weather was like, or what happened in the garden, or what two neighbours were bickering about. I won't care next week either. That was then, this is now.
    Such an attitude makes me wonder if the gift of life wasn't wasted here. Makes me feel very sad the singularity of life could be treated so cavalierly.
    Oh Bill, you make the nihilist in me chuckle.

    It is possible for life to have meaning, profound meaning, without documenting it. If not giving a hoot about documenting one's existence is "cavalier" I would shudder to think what you would label the more debauchery filled stretches of my life have been.
    It's not about the documenting or lack thereof. What triggered my response was the uncaring. The "I don't care" and "I won't care." For me, life is about caring, whether you document that or not. And caring has to do with remembering.

    Since you are in AZ, I'll give you an example from my time (20 years ago) in Tucson publishing Web sites for Intuit. One afternoon after work I came across another employee in the parking lot; he had locked his keys in his car. A few of us gathered around trying to help. One was a janitor working in the building, and I can still see him saying, "I'm Mexican. You can't keep me out of a car." I still remember both those people because I care about them and their lives. The fellow employee was a fascinating itinerant tech support worker. In the tax season, he'd do telephone tech support for the Turbo Tax program by Intuit. At other times he'd work for Microsoft when they were rolling out new software. He sort of followed the software seasons. I thought it was an amazing way to live, and I wonder how he's doing today, given that he's still with us. He was also the only other person I've met who was born on the same exact day I was. I also wonder about that janitor, such a delightful and engaging personality. What car is he getting into today? What family cherishes him?

    I've never written any of that down, yet I remember because I care. Maybe I spent too much time working with addicts for whom nothing mattered but the present moment. Get the fix you need this minute, nothing else, past or future, matters. Perhaps that colors my perceptions.

    Given that you're in Flag, you may or may not know there is a liveview cam there, done by people who like watching trains. It's on the train station overlooking the tracks -- with a good view of the comings and goings at the Lumberyard...

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jsAGE3Yq74M
    So you've progressed from saying the gift of life was wasted on me to calling me an uncaring individual. Maybe you should reflect on your comments somewhat, as I think you are painting yourself worse than you are painting me.

    There are things I care very little about, and wouldn't waste time writing about them, as I find them to banal to be worth my attention. There are things I care passionately about, but would rather engage with them, than just write about them. There are things I experience which make an impression on me, but I would rather discuss them in conversation, than commit it to paper.

    The act of committing my thoughts to a page, a page which might never be read, just seems like a waste of my time. I appreciate that others get something from the process that I don't, even if I don't fully understand what that something is. However, I do not consider my desire to spend my waking hours engaged in other things to be a waste of life, or lack of empathy with the world around me. In fact, the reverse is true. The journalling would be a waste of my hours on this rock, and I would rather be sharing with others, than self indulgently creating my own version of the world on a page.

    These thoughts on journalling are in no means a reflection on others who have different perspectives and priorities, unlike your unappreciated comments were, they are merely an expression of my own feelings on doing that activity myself.

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    Default Re: Who Reads Your Journals?

    I enjoy reading this thread today. Realizing it is a long thread I wanted to a. Respond to the question and b. add a thought on reading someone else’s journal

    I have never had anyone ask to read my journal.

    Secondly, however, I spent the last year reading somebody else’s. I have had in my possession for many years a box of my fathers page a day datebooks. They spanned the years from 1950 to end abruptly on the day he died in 1978. I have learned a lot from those books which recorded the birth of his five children and loads of minutiae about myself and my family. Why did I not read through them years ago?

    My own journals are not so uniform and I am not sure anyone will read them in the future. I write this to say if you have such a resource in the attic or packed in a dusty old box — read. You will (or may) discover a point of view of your own life you had not considered.

    Among other things I was forcefully reminded of the day I set the house on fire. A reference I had entirely forgotten and one I most likely did not record in my own journal. Hmmm, perhaps I should go check and see.


    Sent from my iPad using Tapatalk

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    Default Re: Who Reads Your Journals?

    Quote Originally Posted by AzJon View Post
    Quote Originally Posted by Brilliant Bill View Post
    Quote Originally Posted by Wuddus View Post
    Most of my writing is just me exploring thoughts and ideas, and is done on a4 pads. They are meaningless to anyone else, and if anyone else asked to read them, I would say no.

    Even I don't read more than three or four pages back, as that's what I was thinking a while ago, not what I'm thinking now. When the book/pad is filled, I throw it away and start another. It has served it's purpose, but is of no more use to me than used toilet roll. Both of them get covered in shit, disposed of, and I move on with life. I also don't want either being surveyed by anyone else.

    I don't care what I ate last week, or what I was thinking last week. I don't care what the weather was like, or what happened in the garden, or what two neighbours were bickering about. I won't care next week either. That was then, this is now.
    Such an attitude makes me wonder if the gift of life wasn't wasted here. Makes me feel very sad the singularity of life could be treated so cavalierly.
    Oh Bill, you make the nihilist in me chuckle.

    It is possible for life to have meaning, profound meaning, without documenting it. If not giving a hoot about documenting one's existence is "cavalier" I would shudder to think what you would label the more debauchery filled stretches of my life have been.
    Jon, I'm not speaking for Bill, I just happen to read his comment as stating that there are moments in life that in retrospect, we may wished that those were recorded in a journal of some sort. Maybe a profound realization, maybe a funny moment or story, maybe impression that a person made, maybe an event or a day that was out of ordinary, maybe something that you learned in traveling, etc.

    I personally wished that I kept a more consistent journal about many things that I discover about life that might not feel significant at the time, but looking back, when I did discover an old photo or sketch or writing, I wished I kept more of those.
    - Will
    A place to look for restored vintage pens: Redeem Pens

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    Default Re: Who Reads Your Journals?

    It's just me reading my journal these days--if I ever do. I USED to have online journals growing up but after having 2 crash (diary-x; xanga) and losing all posts, I decided to go back to analog when I took up this pen hobby. Journal writing has always been a stress relief outlet. I may never read it but adding the fun pens and inks to this process has been even more therapeutic.

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    Default Re: Who Reads Your Journals?

    Several years ago I had some really crazy stuff going on my life. I've lived a pretty charmed life and have never really had anything bad happen. But, when the s**t started hitting the proverbial fan, I had to have a way to deal with it all. I filled 2 Picadilly notebooks in a little over 3 months of daily writing. Those books were read by my wife as she tried to help us get through the things that were happening - and she was the main contributor to the stuff that was happening. My writing was purely an emotional dumping of everything and I'm convinced that this writing kept me from a mental breakdown (not that I really know what a mental breakdown is) and I emerged a stronger and better man.

    I'm not a man who will go talk to a stranger in the form of counseling. I don't really have that many friends outside of my family. I'm a high school teacher, so I get to deal with the drama and challenges of teenagers all day long and spend my work day talking quite bit. My reflective writing helps this introverted guy decompress and process. I'm not really concerned if anyone reads what I write and might discover something dark and mysterious. My life is pretty boring but it does have a few moments of excitement and memorable occurrences.

    At the current time, I am trying to write down a few family stories. As I approach the age of being the older generation of my family and as parents, aunts and uncles pass on or descend into dementia, I want to capture some of the family happenings so that my sons will have some backup for the stories that they hear from Grandpa or from me.

    I do hope that someone reads what I've written. They might find it boring, but they also might know a little more about who I am or who I was.
    Last edited by countrydirt; October 18th, 2019 at 09:32 AM.
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    Default Re: Who Reads Your Journals?

    Quote Originally Posted by countrydirt View Post
    At the current time, I am trying to write down a few family stories. As I approach the age of being the older generation of my family and as parents, aunts and uncles pass on or descend into dementia, I want to capture some of the family happenings so that my sons will have some backup for the stories that they hear from Grandpa or from me.

    I do hope that someone reads what I've written. They might find it boring, but they also might know a little more about who I am or who I was.
    The more you write, the more your idiolect develops. It will not be boring.
    Written on a real computer and real keyboard with capital letters, punctuation, and everything.

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    Default Re: Who Reads Your Journals?

    Nobody reads mine but me. They are kind of process journals like a brain dump. Some of them are reflection. I keep a book journal of sorts (stuff I read). I am trying an art journal. I have a journal I draft poems in or other kinds of writing. I have a dream journal. I enjoy going back and reading through them, and of course, the poems in the poetry journal get transferred over to computer eventually. But mostly it's conversation with myself. Sometimes it helps me sleep at night to get it all down. Sometimes I start my day writing. I'm not trying to record my life, necessarily. I'm just writing because I love writing and I love the written word. And sometimes I love my own written words. You can see some of them on the Louisiana Poetry Project Web site under Denise Rogers or you can order a copy of my book from Louisiana Literature Press.
    Lady Onogaro

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