The Notebook

*Disclaimer: This post has nothing to do with the movie. And I mean totally nothing ūüôā

I started writing on a diary when I was 12.  When I discovered the fun in writing my thoughts down, it easily became a habit for me.  I think it was also because of my diaries that I realized that I loved to write.

it wasn't always this cute

Being young, though, and having to rely on my student’s allowance, I had to make do with ANY kind of notebook.¬† On good months (say, after Christmas or my birthday), I could afford to buy the cute, frilly kind.¬† So sickeningly feminine and cute.¬† On lean months, I would settle for anything with a spiral on the side.¬† As long as it had lines… and I can write on it.¬† Truth be told, I had more of the latter.¬†

What I loved about keeping a diary is that you can air out your thoughts — and your diary won’t try to oppose you or say that you’re wrong.¬† You can whine and vent — and your diary won’t roll its eyeballs while you’re all whiny (because it doesn’t have eyeballs, duh!).¬† And when I was much, much younger and was in the poetry making mode, my diary was my “artist’s canvas.”¬†

More than that, my diaries preserved my moments.¬† Good ones, bad ones, exciting ones… okay, even the boring ones (like when there’s really nothing to write about but I was so bored and I wanted to write something…it happens.)

I used to chronicle every interesting thing that happened to me.¬† I remember the night before the¬†first day of my freshman year in high school, there was a concert on tv that I so badly wanted to watch (which I did)…

Spandau Ballet in the early 1980s, clockwise from left, John Keeble, Tony Had...

I'm an 80's girl...

Said concert¬†lasted ’til¬†midnight, and I was the only one awake and I had no one to share the excitement with… but I had my diary with me, and all throughout the concert I was writing my thoughts, along with the sequence of songs as the band sang them. I was singing and dancing, too¬†(yes, I already knew then how to multitask). After the show, I reread my entry — about 5 pages of them — and relived the concert in my mind.¬† My handwriting was almost illegible, but I was happy.¬† I felt I saved the moment on paper.

You see, we cannot remember everything.¬† There will come a time when our memory will fail us.¬† Happens for some people way earlier and faster than for others.¬† Sad but true.¬† I don’t consider myself old (i mean, OLD) yet, but honestly,¬†there are things — events — from years past that I cannot remember anymore.¬† Like a friend of mine will say, “Remember when we…” and I feel bad for not remembering.¬† Heck, sometimes I can’t even remember what I wore last week! (Not that it’s worth chronicling or something…)

Just as an¬†aside, I overheard my sister and a cousin talking the other day about an event that they had together almost a decade ago, and funny thing was, both of them couldn’t remember the details.¬† My cousin couldn’t even remember being there!¬† And she blamed having had two epidurals (she has two kids now) for her memory loss.¬† My sister does the same, a lot of times.¬† She blames her epidural whenever she forgets something (Most of the time I tell her she owes me money to check if her brain cells are still active… and then the epidural gets the blame).¬† The thing is, we are still in our thirties!

Antonio Pigafetta, a great chronicler

I would want to remember a lot of things.¬† I want to preserve my memories.¬† When I am much older, I want to be the type who will tell her grandchildren stories of childhood and¬†youth.¬† Not that they would want to listen, but that is another issue.¬† The thing is, I want my children and my children’s children to learn from me… to see me as the person that I am/was. I cannot tell my grandchildren stories if I don’t remember them.

That’s why I kept diaries… because I knew that at some point in time, I would want to look back and remember something — an incident, an emotion… even a heartbreak.¬† I can read my entry and reminisce, and relive.¬†

I lost most of my old diaries, though.¬† Nature has its way of cleaning one’s closet (i think my first ever blog was about the sorry fate of my diaries).¬† And then as I got older and had more pressing responsibilities (i.e., parenting and motherhood), I didn’t think I still had the time to sit and chronicle my day.¬† Besides, my son would probably find it hilarious if he sees me writing on a diary (You’re still using notebooks? So uncool mom!).¬† Yet it would be nice to chronicle my midlife adventures.

And then¬†I realized that basically, this¬†whole blogging experience is what it is.¬† My daily chronicle. I’m airing out my thoughts, I’m venting, whining, ranting, raving… sharing, teaching, humoring myself, humoring others…making friends.¬† Plus, I am preserving days.¬† I am preserving the moments that I write about.¬†

I have gone back to the habit that I began when I was a young girl.¬† And it’s all good.

I just hope wordpress doesn’t crash. Ever. And I mean ever, ever…


dear diary...


PS.  And yes, I used to start my entries with Dear Diary.  All the time.


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photo via and google images