Friday, July 03, 2009
Time Will Tell
Currently, it is one a.m. and I have been sick all evening. There are times that are perfect for blogging. This seems to be one of them.
The kind of writing that I am used to is personal--like the letters I've written or the journals I've kept. While in the basement the other day, I ran across my seventh grade diary. I only read a few pages and got bored. I don't know the eleven year old anymore and why she got so worked up about the things she got worked up about. But it was boring--page after page of the same problems. Instead of seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, this kid kept driving herself into a deeper, blacker hole. Ugh.
In a way, I'm that same person only older but there are exceptions. Young Thea could not see past the end of her nose and got stuck analyzing one thing from every possible angle she could think of. Young Thea could not see the forest for the trees. Older Thea has a larger vocabulary and spells better. Older Thea lacks an imagination. Older Thea sometimes can not see the trees for the forest. Older Thea doesn't care. As much.
I put the diary up on a shelf, but I doubt I'll actually read it. A part of me wants to pitch it into the trash, but the other part of me realizes that a record of my immaturity is actually useful. Any time I catch myself being way too introspective or depressing, all I have to do is find that green plastic coated notebook with "PRIVATE" written all over it and see myself at my most embarrassingly worst. Everday, everything was the end of the world. And no one else existed.
This year, I quit keeping a journal except for my devotions or notes from classes or sermons. As I hear about the benefit and neccessity of journaling for self discovery or whatever, I recoil a bit. It's a discipline, true. But there has to be a better subject matter other than me. In thirty years, I want to be able to read something that remains just as true now as it was then. Hopefully, something interesting.
But maybe it would be a good thing that what I find worthier, holier, wiser and deeper in thirty years would make what interests me now look like trash.
Posted by Althea