Once, a long time ago, I realized that the main reason I write in my journals is that I'm so upset and need to vent/"write things through." So it struck me that if I died, and someone was reading my journals, trying to remember the wonderful times with me, and how much they loved me, and how much I enriched their existence... they'd be inundated with entries about how bad my PMS is, and about how useless I am and how much my friends hate me, and how I have screwed up so much and so bad... It really kind of freaked me out. I know it's not best to imagine someone reading your journals after you die, since the whole point of journaling is that you're free to write what- and however you want. But anyway, so I'm trying to at least write more positive things, since in general I love my life, I don't even get really bad PMS, I am very helpful and productive at work, I've done tons of awesome things including earning a PhD, and all my friends love me, since that's kind of the definition of friendship...
So anyway, I walked to the grocery store today. It's a beautiful day! I passed by a house and a boy was lying in the front yard. When he saw me he played dead which was hilarious. Then while I was in the store, I was reminded of things I had forgotten, instead of the usual, i.e. me forgetting everything one thing at a time. Then the bagger got all my stuff into my one reusable bag, and everyone was very friendly.
As I walked home, I passed the boy again, who was actually practicing his baseball (shortstop) with his dad. AWESOME! I thought it was some sort of miracle thing that never actually happens, since the dad in people's stories is always too busy to play catch. They were having a great time, though, so I can see why the others are upset about missing it.
Then I saw my landlord and asked him about repainting my apartment for me and he totally is! And he even said I could pick out colors, and that he would take that crazy massively-chipping many-layered paint on the door OFF, and refinish the original door casings!
As if that wasn't enough, when I got home I checked my mail and I got a birthday card. With a check in it.
The other night, after improv, I went to the grocery store. I had been practicing a really cheerful, sweet character, so I wondered "Hmm, I wonder what it would be like to be in character as I walk through Kroger." By the time I got in the door, I didn't even need to be in character anymore. Being nice and being treated nicely was in itself enough to keep me feeling cheerful and happy without the character.
Sweet. Now if only my cat would quit peeing on my laundry.
Charity :-)
2 comments:
I always think about what people will think when they read my journals after I die, but it doesn't change what I write - if I need to vent, I need to vent. People are gonna be PISSED to read it when I'm gone, but I'll be gone, so what do I care?
I've always thought that, too, about the stuff I write. I tend to write when I'm at the highest of negative emotions. My blog is kind of the random thoughts collection. Oh well, though. It makes sense to write when things are INTENSE!
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