That’s what I think when I write. I’m going to get into trouble. Someone is not going to agree with what I wrote and/or how I wrote it. That concern is being overruled by a new growing concern that I have…but let me explain a bit first.
Every once in a while (usually before a move), I’ll go through several boxes of papers trying to figure out what to throw away. I usually don’t get very far before I begin to find a few notepads which contain random journal entries about…well……random topics. I read these and begin to wonder who this person was that wrote them. The writing doesn’t sound anything like me but yet it is my handwriting (scribble with a purpose). “Why did I say those things”… “why did I feel that way”….. “wow, this guy is funny”….. “i wonder what happened to him?” This is the only way I can connect with the me of the past. Here’s the problem…… I’m finding fewer notepads.
I know what it is. The idealistic me is being replaced by a more pragmatic one. Maybe this happens as you get older but I think it’s gone a little too far. The “realistic” voice in my head has become so strong that I don’t think there is any room for dreaming. For reasonable reflection. For wild conjecture. For anything but….what is. And who wants to write about that?
My concern is that the me of the future will not be able to trace back to the thoughts and feelings I currently hold. At least , not without me putting them down…..somewhere. So……I will write, blog, jibber-jabber, whatever. It may get me into to trouble…..but at least I’ll know how I got there.