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uncleal's Diaryland Diary


A meandering line of thought.


I am so fucking addicted to reading journals. I am not a literary genius. I am not eloquent. I cannot figure out how to fully put myself into words on a computer screen.

I wish I could. Maybe I should take a class. Can they teach that kind of talent? I used to read something like 4 journals daily. Most of them are gone now. And in my attempt to find something new to read, I am up to 11. (It's one louder, isn't it?) And they are all so much better than any of mine. Maybe because I am nothing more than an angry young woman, who really hasn't enough to talk about in the first place. Or maybe it's because I write like and angry teenager, despite my non-teenager-ey-ness. In conversations with people, I come across as witty, and intersting. And sometimes even knowledgeable. But in here I come across as rambling, unfocused, confused.

Probably, this is because when conversing with people, it is easy to get on to many different topics... wherever the conversation turns, and in here, I should keep each topic to it's own entry. But, alas, this is not how my mind works.

Heh, this entry is about to be a perfect example of this problem.

I am so disillusioned of my writing abilities, that even though I started this journal specifically for people to read (I have two others which are meant only for me... well, one is for my son, and the other for the sperm doner), I have not put up banners, nor have I emailed others with the address here. And when I comment on other journals, I use the letters to my son, as my URL instead. Strangely enough, people read that one. Not many, but people. For all I know, they're all people I know. Maybe they're all strangers. (Well, I definately know one of them, and one other is the sperm doner's wifey.. but the others???) And in that one, I'm not trying to sound like anything but me. The happy, fascinated new mom that I am.

And not that I'm trying to be something that I'm not in here, exactly, but this was supposed to be fun, somewhat entertainng, and instead, I just fall short every time.

I try to think of interesting things to write about, but my whole life has been turned upside down since having a baby. All the things I find interesting anymore are things like the bahaviour of a 9 month old going through teething, and the desire to be independant. It's fun to watch him long to strike out on his own, but want Mommy to hold him and make his head stop hurting. I know I'm going to watch this same scenario over and over again throughout his life. But now, it's kinda comical. I wonder if it always will be?

*Ahem* not the point. Actually, none of this was the point. See? I came in here to talk about the other journals I read, not to get on a self-pity rant about how I am not a great "blogger." I have found that my choices in journals to read have become kind of ... ummm.. themed. They are mostly Mothers' journals.. all of whom seem to have a better handle on this whole parenting thing than I do, but then, their children are much older than mine, so I guess time will tell how I do. But I find that one is not enough. I started reading the ones that were linked to by my favorite of the old journals, as he has sadly moved on. He has had too much strife in his life due to his journaling, so he has decided to quit. I was feeling lost and forlorn without him, so I started reading his archives. And in the beginning he linked to a lot of other journals. I decided that if they were still around 6 years later, they probably were worth reading. And then once I found the ones that were still around, I followed links from there to other journals with interesting titles. And I'm addicted.

Fortunately, I do not have a job right now, because I can sit and read journals for hours if I choose while my son is off at day-care learning things like how to interact with other babies. And how to trust that Mommy will come back at the end of the day. Everyday. Of course I should be doing useful things like taking the trash out, and folding laundry, and vacuuming... damn. I'll do that now. I really have to get oiff my ass and make my house presentable.

I'll write in here again, later. i'm sure I have way to much to talk about, and nobody to talk about it with. So, maybe I'll just never tell anybody that this is here, and keep it for myself. I never understood how people got so many hits per day anyway. But I'm sure it has something to do with their ability to string words together more creatively than I can. If ever someone reads this, I hope you enjoy it.

1:02 p.m. - 2006-05-19


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