When there's nothing else to talk about, you can always talk about the weather
Sunday, Oct. 03, 2004 - 18:12

I've been feeling animosity towards my paper journal lately, antagonistic and confrontational, and it's weird, because my journal hasn't done anything to me at all. It's actually just a notebook made of paper and glue, it couldn't do anything to me even if it wanted to. Except a papercut.

You don't know what's in my head unless I write it down for you here. You don't know - if I don't write about something, is it because I'm notwriting about it, or is it because I'm not even thinking about it? - You don't know that, only I do.

I wrote that last week. Almost a month ago I wrote something about how I always try to document things, but documentation is weak, a shadow of my memory, which in turn is a shadow of reality. I write and capture only a fraction of my memory. And I was wondering if it's even worth it, trying to capture it, because it fails, it doesn't work, it remains only in my head. And then I wondered why I even keep a journal and what I want to become of it. Do I want anyone else to read it? If not, why do I have it?

But it annoys me to not write, and it annoys me that I didn't write much about my job this summer. Yes, write what you know, and now I won't be able to write about being a landscaper at a crappyass unprofessional home business, or about being the only girl working with a bunch of boys - I won't be able to write about that because I don't have any documentation. But it's all in my head, which should be enough for me. But I'm afraid I'll forget it, or forget the details.

I wrote on September 24: I can't write a word and I don't do a thing. I slept more than 10 hours last night and I'm not tired. I should be sick of things and sick of myself but I'm not yet, and that in itself makes me a little worried and restless. My fingernails are so short and....
and and and
that's the question.

I wrote on September 26: The dogs are bored and so am I. It's a beautiful day. Something should be happening, but it's not. I'm not hungry but thought about making something to eat - it would give me something to do. But instead I came upstairs, thought, "I'll write something." It was stuffy up here. I opened another window.
I know! A jog - I'll jog to the bridge.
That exclamation point is way too exciting. I used it instead of a dash, decided at the last second on an exclamation point. I should have used a dash.

I wrote on October 3 (was that today?): It's still sunny. It's been beautiful. The trees are colorful, very bright. It's been a while since I've seen the fall.

I just found rice on my pants, crap.