I have meant for some time to begin keeping a Journal.
I don't smoke in my house anymore (and the goal is to be quit completely by the time my wife and I move into our new house at the end of next month...here's hoping), so I often find myself sitting out on our balcony, carrying on conversations with myself in my head about any and every topic imaginable. I've made most of the major decisions in my life over the past two years (a period in which most of the major decisions in my life as a whole have been made) staring into the woods across the parking lot, cigarette in hand, sitting atop an ugly comfortable green $10 Wal-Mart deck chair, swatting away the all-too-common mosquito or yellow jacket. But all important life-changing decision-making aside, I spend most of my time out there batting random thoughts around in my head.
Most come in answer to a question—any question—that pops into my head out of nowhere and suddenly demands to be answered. And of course my mind wanders, as minds are prone to do; so one answer leads to another question, more often than not totally unrelated and seemingly irrelevant. By the time all is said and done, I realize I’ve smoked half a pack of cigarettes, developed quite a sore throat, have the beginnings of a migraine, and have completely forgotten what it was I was thinking about in the first place.
And hence: the whole idea of the Journal.
I actually started one once, and decided it needed to be private. I kept up with it for a few days in an encrypted Word file on my PC. And like so many good intentions to exercise, diet, or quit [insert random vice here], it eventually became relegated to the “I’ll get to it later” pile.
Oddly enough, unlike most things stacked in that ever-growing pile, I did get to it later, only to find that I had forgotten my PGP key and couldn’t open the blasted file. So there it still sits, taking up space on my aging PC. And here I sit, deciding to do it again, albeit it in a slightly different format, and by no means private.
Anyone care to take bets on how long before this blog ends up sitting atop the elliptical trainer along with the Atkins diet book in the far corner gathering dust?
Maybe not. Maybe if at least one person happens across this garbage and leaves me a note saying, “You’re a moron and should donate your breathable air to someone who could put it to good use,” I’ll be inclined to write more and more often just for spite.