Put my Chucks on for the first time this spring. Ah, bliss.
If I don't write something down will I remember it? Not to-do's or phone numbers, but experiences. Memories. My life.
I've been writing about it for more than 20 years -- the first being a diary with a lock and pink pages. It may have been Hello Kitty and pretty sure Auntie Sue gave it to me.
I've been "blogging" or "online diary-ing" about it for more than 10 years. A decade or more of (somewhat public) navel gazing.
To what end? To remember it? To stretch my writing muscles? To feed my narcissism? Just because?
I don't know what I'd do otherwise. So this continues.