Considering the difficulty I have writing on my first blog, it seems a bit of a stretch to start a second one. On the other hand, I often have several journals going at once. A travel journal, a journal for quotes, a regular life journal, a journal to record every piece of food that enters my mouth, a poetry journal or two. Of course, I rarely write in those either. My grandmother left yearly diaries, very accessible and easy to read. My mother left nothing on purpose, although I have a record book of bills paid and I once found a diary of sorts of a diet she was on. She'd be mortified. When I die, not that I'm planning on it, my children may or may not choose to open everything that looks like a journal just for fun. There will be many. I start and stop.
There is a black journal, completely filled, that I started in 1977. It goes for about 10 years, with fewer entries every year. It has tragic elements. I hope I'm dead before they read that one. It holds the most truth. Some of those entries comprise a memoir I'm writing that may never be read, but needs to be written nevertheless. Perhaps this blog will be part of that memoir--the parts that I think are important that I won't mind if someone reads. According to the plaque my daughter gave me, my story matters. I personally think everyone's story matters.
My other blog (somethingsmattermorethanothers.blogspot.com) is a collection of essays. This one will be a collection of my story--my beautifully messy complicated story.
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