Yesterday I started a “logbook” which is really more of a “listbook,” which is really just a diary for lazy people. I’ve tried to keep diaries over the years—I’d fill them with the usual: “Dear Diary, my feelings are so vast and pure and true and complicated and layered…I just don’t know what to do with them besides look at pretty Brittana pictures on Tumblr all day.”
It’d all go well for a week, sometimes two, sometimes even a month, and then I’d forget all about it. Then the guilt-feelings would set in. I’d look at the diary, knowing full well it had been months (years?) since I’d written anything down and think, “Well, maybe I’ll write something down today… just to check-in … just so it doesn’t feel abandoned.”
I’d scribble something apologetic like, “Sorry it’s been so long…” as if the diary has feelings. Like it’s been sitting there the whole time saying to itself, “Why does Ingrid hate me? What did I do? Why do the other notebooks get all the attention? I wish she’d at least apologize. It’s not like I don’t see her sitting there, looking at Tumblr for hours. What a thoughtless b*tch.”
So even though it’s irrational, there they are, these, “Sorry it’s been so long…” entries that are usually really awkward and stilted like I’ve just ran into an old acquaintance and we’re trying to make small-talk, but really have nothing to say to one another.
Diaries are a lot of work is what I’m saying.
So, yesterday I started a logbook. Instead of writing long, flowing sentences about deep thoughts and feelings, the point is to make lists instead.
30 Day Photo Challenge—Day 2: My Logbook (or should it be Listbook?)
Today’s entry, which is partly cut-off reads: “Delivered a pizza to hell (a.k.a. NZ during the zombie apocalypse). Tired now. Deliver Me in Hell (via Lish)”
Today’s weather report: Cloudy and gross.
I know. It’s deep stuff.
30 Day Questions Challenge—Day 2: What do you think love is?
Oh, dear God. Let’s see. Love. I think love is indefinable.
There’s a quote by Ambrose Redmoon that reads:
“Courage is not the absence of fear, but the realization that there is something more important than fear.”
I think love is that thing. The thing that will always be greater than anything else we may feel.