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blogging and babbling

keeping a journal has always been a way of life for me. i may not have survived adolescent heartbreaks, college rebellion or continue existing in this chilly (yet still not snowing…) foreign state without journals. if i remember correctly, my first journal had a lock, a present from an aunt, and just like any 4th grader i always wrote “dear diary” on the first line of all entries. it was by junior high that i dropped the habit and just started everything with the date.

if i have kept all my journals since i was a kid, i would have a closet full of notebooks by 25. but since i have always been “mature” about how i document my life – i often threw a notebook away (burned some at our backyard for fear that someone might read it and exploit the inner workings of my crazy mind) whenever i have transcended from the tragedy i was writing about – after eventually realizing that i was too self-absorbed (as all journal writers are) or am too ashamed of the thoughts documented on those sheets of paper.

now i know i should have kept them all. that way, i could let my son/daughter read them one day (probably on my deathbed) and be warned of how demented he/she could be with the genes they have acquired from me. i still have a few notebooks left, (from late high school to post-college) kept secretly in my room back in tandang sora. and of course, i have this blog, which will exist in internet space forever (unless, as a friend once wrote, the world ends tomorrow) – though not as dramatic as those journals before which were for my eyes only. but despite the poor writing, the over-extended babbling over nonsense and continuous lament and over analysis of past, future and/or present frame of mind – they remain to be the most accurate records of who i am, of who i was.

in  a few years years (or months), i would probably despise more than half of what i have written in this blog. by then i would probably need all the self-convincing i could muster not to erase some posts that have been published here. why? because the mature me accepts (is still struggling to accept) the unedited, unabridged version of ME. and now that i am in my late (yes, late is when you’ve passed 25) 20’s, i want the world (total =5-6 people who reads this blog occasionally, plus the incidental clickers) to get the real deal.

someday when i have been long gone and my grandson/granddaughter is down in misery; complaining, frustrated and exasperated with his/her life – he/she would grab a pen (or their keyboards, or write in air) to lament about everything and nothing, just like how grandma used to.

-music fades slowly, curtains close-

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