I'm listening

Just a quickie tonight.

I'm thrilled that people are commenting...OK I know they almost exclusively my teachers at Betty Blogger, but it's exciting to come in here hit "sign in" and see "there are comments to be moderated"...thrilling I tell ya!

And it's not just because people are taking the time to comment but that they are sharing some great info. See Library Lady's comment in previous blog re: social networking. I know that it's all ultimately about marketing but her comment shows how harmlessly it is presented and how insidious it all is. This is yet another reason why I'm very selective about what info I give out.

You are probably saying to yourself, "What do you mean selective? You're blabbing about yourself in a Blog for Pete's sake."

"Ah, you're right." I would say to you. But, I choose the story and the info that I want to present from whatever perspective I want, which tends to be that of an amused witness. You won't find things I consider very personal, otherwise you'd be reading my diary and even I couldn't stand reading that s**t for very long.

My diaries were my form of therapy, written so that I might better understand the workings of my mind. That is, before I gave up trying to understand it and simply learned to accept it and go along for the ride.

Here's a sample of what went on in my mind as I (from the vantage point of my mid 40's) re-read entries  from diaries that I had loving lugged back and forth and back and forth with me between B.C and Ontario from my early 20's to my mid 30's. 

OK you've finally figured it out great! Then I read a little more...nope you didn't get it. And a little more...I can't believe you fell for that yet again. Further on...Oh man what the hell's wrong with you. You're certainly not the sharpest pencil in the box are ya!  Finally...I'm so done with this. Bury it so no one sees this record of self-imposed pathetic moments. Better still burn it!

And that's just what I did. I can hear you all gasping now. "You burned your diaries! Why, they are a record of your life and are priceless gems for you to look upon in your old age as you reminisce." 

"Oh please! Is reminiscence another word for torture? It was absolutely LIBERATING"!!! I have had more than my share of pathetic moments and "No I don't need to relive them". Instead I aspire to become an 80 year old crone weaving memories of a life filled with passion, adventure and wisdom.

I tore the pages of my diaries from their bindings; rolled them up into a gazillion "fire bundles"; took them up to a cottage and every night threw a bunch on to the fire and watched them and the person who wrote them go up in flames.

It was fitting because the day after I returned home from that holiday was my first day at Shiatsu School and the beginning of my new life.