I was given my first journal by a girl we’ll call “Cassy,” Freshman year of high school. Cassy ended up being a real bitch, but we’ll get into that later. I was pretty uncommitted to keeping up with regular entries and filled it in about 4 years. So, it was like my “high school journal.” Then I got another and filled it during Freshman and Sophomore year of college.
About a year and a half ago, I moved across the country. I left some things behind by mistake, including those journals, and they were never seen again. I was crushed. I mean, sure I was upset by the loss of my fleshlight, but those journals were dear to me.
Eventually I got over it and started a new journal. Actually, I started my current journal on February 19th, 2013.
In lieu of the original documents, I’ve decided to make a massive spreadsheet in Excel, the far left column listing every memory I can put together and the top row a timeline of years so I can mark off when the events happened.
My hope is to compile every memory I can get my hands on into an “Up ‘Till Biography” of myself, done in a narrative style, because I have unfortunately lost the original documents. If at all possible, I intend to submit as many posts as it takes to thoroughly introduce my life to you. Then, upon the narrative reaching February 19th, 2013, I’ll begin the journal posts.
There are several things I’ve noticed just in beginning to compile my early life into writing and this project in general.
First, I never considered the distribution of what my mind has ended up clinging to, in terms of memories. I’ve never had every memory sprawled out in front of me to look at.
My memories are like 40% of sex. What’s up with that?
What kind of person does that suggest I am? I feel like I’m meeting myself. It makes me sort of uncomfortable, but I can’t imagine it could be anything but therapeutic.
Secondly, it feels very narcissistic. I feel like I’m pushing all of my life’s biz on you like it’s somehow interesting enough to warrant being called entertainment. The thing is, I don’t think my life is all that incredible. The point of this blog is that it is my life. How often have you looked at a stranger on the street walking his dog and holding a paper bag and thought, “I wonder how much he cares about that dog? I wonder what the fuck is in that bag? I wonder where he’s going? What great tragedies has he experienced? Is he talented? Is he a gentle lover?”
Maybe not that last one, but you get the idea. I think that stuff all the time. That’s what you’re getting from me. Everything. This is everything I am, everything I feel, everything I want, all of my fears and mistakes and failures. The next submission should come tomorrow (because tonight is valentine’s day, sorry) and will be the first “chunk” of my life- almost certainly beginning with my birth. So…. I guess look forward to that.