It's the story of my life, and part of my family heritage: we tend to repeat ourselves. Of course, I found this extrememly annoying in my mother. It was certainly part of her OCD, the part she imposed on other people. Crap, didn't she ever listen to herself? How could she not know that she'd already told me this, whatever it is?
In me, however, it's a charming quirk.
Right?
Which is just to say that, rather than repeat myself here, as if all of would remember what I wrote last Thanksgiving, I just checked back to see what I wrote last Thanksgiving, and to my surprise, I wrote nothing. No entries between November 22 and December 1 of 2002. So rather than write about Thanksgiving -- I'll try to work that in on Wednesday -- it made me think a little about the diary and such.
I'd like to quite, if I may, from today's inarticulate. I thought she put this particularly well:
The diary is "like walking around your neighborhood at twilight and looking in people's windows. You get to see slice of life, real-people dioramas. Once in a while, somebody sees you and maybe they wave, and maybe you wave back."
Sometimes I feel like I'm standing in my window and waving my arms, calling out to the passersby "Hey, look at me! I'm over here!" Sometimes it amazes me that I have come to know you in some way, and that, as I read what you write, I see the images in my head: LA in the Hobbit House, Marn in the woods, Lorisor in the snow, Gem-Chan in Satan's Library, and of course, the Connecticut Crowd. Not to slight anyone else, not at all, those are just the images that leapt immediately to mind. Anyway, you know who you are.
I'm not repeating myself. Am I?
--------------------------------------------------
I'm watching Will & Grace
--------------------------------------------------
last ::
next
Sweet Sorrow - 06.12.2007
So ... - 12.19.2006
Christmastime Is Near - 12.18.2006
Fifteen Years - 12.17.2006
A Message From Our Sponsor - 12.16.2006
|
