Most people write about either everything- every single thing that happens in a day- or they just write about important things. They write chronologically in the order things happened, or they hit on high points. I’d be that person writing every single thing and writing it in order… except that’s impossible! You can’t write every little detail of your life. You’d have to write every single day and spend hours doing it- if you were going to do it right. It drives me crazy just thinking about it. That’s why I’ve given myself special license when writing any kind of journal, diary, blog, or account. It’s simply this: I get to write whenever I want, about whatever I want. I can leave out anything, even important things, and I can put things out of order too. What I end up with is, well, just perfect in its random existence. I may record in detail an instance with a large bug, but leave out losing my job and winning the lottery. No problem.
(I can also change my mind about these rules at any time. They say excusable mind-changing is one advantage women get, and right now I feel we’re extremely entitled to seize any benefits available to our sex.)
Home:
Is it really where the heart is? In that case my heart must be in my little bed, covered in down and red satin beneath a white and filmy canopy, sitting beside my lamp and wooden table. I’d like to make breakfast in my kitchen, brush my teeth in my bathroom, and watch a movie sitting on my couch, but most of all I’d like to have a long winter’s nap in my comfy bed. Aaaah.
Friends:
Friends are the people who will drive four hours just to see you for four minutes. They’re the ones who are happy when you’re mad at them for not calling, who make you take something disgusting when you’re sick, who don’t mind when you talk about your broken heart for the millionth time.
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