vinylgirl's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- diarylander life-span + erick I think I am afraid of this diary. Afraid that I will always have to write some intellectual commentary or heart wrenching emotion or not write at all. I find myself sitting down to hammer out my thoughts, trying to exercise my mind as well as exorcise it. Then I find myself deleting every word or simply closing the window and walking away. It's like I am thinking about the future and my legacy or lack thereof. Worried about what people will think of my life when it is translated into my diary. I really turn up my nose at the whole lifeline of some people who start a diary. There is a precise cycle that goes like this: Stage 1: Person enjoys updating diary and does so everyday. They relay personal information and folly at the oddity it is to reveal oneself to strangers. Person has an "I don't care what anyone thinks about what I write" attitude and doesn't censor entries. Stage 2: Person begins to update more sporadically and occasionally censors details from entries for fear that someone may be reading it. Still feels the adrenaline rush of exhibitionism and shares their diary with some friends. Starts to design their own page or gets templates from designers. Puts diary up for reviews. Feels that reviews validate their writing. They begin to receive some kind of negative feedback and take it too personally. Entries become audience motivated. Stage 3: Person becomes paranoid about who is reading their diary. They begin to censor it like madness. Sometimes they openly lash out and speak freely then in guilt delete the entry. They begin to update less, or have pretentious one-word entries. They write about how it was so great at first because it was so liberating and now they have to censor it. They write about how they don't update just for themselves anymore. Resents their friends for "copying" them and getting diaries when they feel he/she is a veteran. Stage 4: The all-dramatic "I have had enough of this place, I need to leave, to think. I can't write here anymore/ This is too personal and I need to lock this diary." entry comes. Person decides to either leave their diary or to lock it. For all their outward attempts to suppress attention, they really thrive on it. Stage 5: Some people return and state the glorious rebirth of their diary, vouching that this time it is for them. A never-ending cycle. It's funny to me now reflecting on how I went through all of that, but the more diaries I read the more I see people go through the exact same cycle. I realize that not EVERYONE goes through this, but a large number of people do. [It's simply an observation] I am sitting in writers craft, listening to my teacher explain our ISU [basically a portfolio assignment with poems, short stories, descriptive paragraphs and a one act play-all written by me] and I am filled with this insatiable feeling that I am going to screw it up somehow. She gave us a week to select a topic. I didn�t have any time to sit down and really think about a topic and how much I could realistically write with it. I quickly scribbled "Romanticism" on my assignment sheet. Romanticism 1. Often Romanticism An artistic and intellectual movement originating in Europe in the late 18th century and characterized by a heightened interest in nature, emphasis on the individual's expression of emotion and imagination, departure from the attitudes and forms of classicism, and rebellion against established social rules and conventions. 2. Romantic quality or spirit in thought, expression, or action. 3. Impractical romantic ideals and attitudes 2: the principles of romantic literature and art [ant: classicism] 3: an exciting and mysterious quality (as of a heroic time or adventure) [syn: romance] {Side note: Reflecting on that makes this whole ordeal seem more bearable} I think I have two problems. One being that I always have to choose something different then everyone else. I relish in obscurity. Two being that I never want to do anything twice. I think I largely dig my own grave. Beyond school anxieties I really hate myself sometimes. It all stems from Friday evening. I was walking to meet up with some friends at the coffee shop right across from my house. While I was walking I became so filled with anger and resentment and sadness. I can�t even remember what I thinking about or why I felt that way. I think I must have one of those faces that people can always read. People always know when I am thinking or when I feel horrendous. I just couldn�t explain it to anyone. Then a friend of mine, who more recently has become somewhat, estranged from me, walks in with these two guys. Her presence just really aggravated me and I gave her back the finger as she left. It was so childish. I think that sometimes it is largely influenced by another friend of mine who is really bitter and resentful towards this girl. {Side note: it is really hard to keep things straight when writing with vague pro-nouns} Then on Saturday the friend who is somewhat estranged is at this birthday party I am at. At first I was filled with this anxiousness that it was going to be awkward all night. But to my surprise as the night went on we talked more and more like we used to and my heart was filled with sadness at how bitter I had been. I just kind of wished we could sit and talk again, laughing about things. I felt so ridiculous for the way I acted at the coffee shop. I have so much maturing to do. My weekend was largely uneventful. I jokingly asked my friend who works at the coffee shop if she knew any boys she could set me up with. She recommended some regulars, a group of indie-looking boys. I just kept thinking of Erick. Low and behold, sitting here dazily typing up an assignment for school, I receive a message from Erick : "I think I love you" He quickly disappeared before I could say anything in return. I miss him so much. I was sort of getting over him for a while, realizing that he is at school now. There has always been a piece of him floating around my heart and my mind. He was the first boy I really cared about after all. I don�t think it is ever really over between us, it just takes a break every now and then. I think it makes me appreciate our time more. I hope he comes home for Christmas and we can get together. He really means a lot to me. Enough of that! I have finally exorcised the demons that floated around in my mind and tortured me. I need to get some thoughts on paper as the poetry anthology is quickly approaching. Wish me luck! Love always Alli xoxoxox 7:08 p.m. - 2002-09-16 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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