What's in your head?

I've tried probably 10 different times to keep a diary. The most I ever did in one was three entries. I never understood diaries.

First of all, I'd lose them. My room was a terrible terrible mess all day every day, and I had stacks of binders and books everywhere, each with a different purpose. I could only remember what a few of them were for. I used to think I wanted to be a writer, so every time I came up with a new idea for a story, I found a new binder and filled it with paper and wrote the first chapter, then I tossed it on the stack and forgot about it. Except the gray binder, I didn't lose that one until I moved out of my mom's house and into my dad's. But that wasn't a diary, it was a childish story based loosely on a roleplay story I had spent a few years developing with random people online. I loved sharing what I had written with my friends, and I like to think they enjoyed reading it. We were like 12. I also never lost the binder with my pokemon/yu-gi-oh cards, or the little spiral "journal" that I kept the cipher for my secret language in. These were things I shared.

That's the second reason I couldn't keep a diary. You aren't supposed to share diaries, right? Unless you're Anne Frank. If I wasn't planning on sharing it, why couldn't I just keep it in my head? I've been thinking about that lately, and I've lived most of my life in my head. I'm starting to wonder if this is healthy, and that's sort of what this blogging experiment is about. Other people seem to know a lot more about their friends, and share a lot more with them than I do.

My grade school counselor told me I should keep a diary because it would help me vent (a great reason) and it would help me remember things. There were a lot of things going around me that I didn't want to remember. Of course, I do remember most of them, but the details are fuzzy, and I'm actually somewhat happy about that. Beyond that, more than not wanting to remember all the details, when I read through the half-started diaries that I made through grade school and into high school, I remember sitting cross-legged on my bed with the papers infront of me, and I remember being scared or hurt or angry, and I really don't care to relive those times. That would be reason number three. I like to draw a very clear line in my life between high school and college, and just about everything on the other side of that line can rot in hell. There are a few things, people and memories I'd keep if I could, but I'd lose them too if it was a package deal.

So why am I trying to write a blog? Well, a lot has changed in my life since I moved up north. Mostly for the better. These are times I think I'll want to remember. Don't get me wrong, in high school I had some pretty good friends, and we had some pretty good times. I do miss them, but they weren't worth staying and they're not worth going back for. As cold as that sounds, I really do hope they get out of that state too, but I guess it's not as high priority for them as it was for me.

I hope this is an entertaining experience for you and me, and maybe we can sprinkle in a dose of enlightenment too.