February 8, 2000
I want to address this question of why I write this journal in the first place. I've been thinking about it lately, since Nathaniel expressed such disbelief at the entire concept on Saturday.
Why write a journal at all? And why in God's name keep it online for the entire world to see? I can understand why Nathaniel was disbelieving. It's a bizarre concept, no?
I started because I was bored and I thought it was cool. I read Heather's journal after we visited her in Indiana, and started thinking about how interesting my own journal could be. It was summertime, I was stuck in a house with nothing to do except avoid the cats and look for a job, and I thought it might be fun to have a journal.
I admit, I didn't fully think out the implications at first. I didn't think to myself, "Gosh, do I want to broadcast all the tiny details of my life? What am I doing here? Will Keith care that I'm involving him in this thing? Am I doing this for myself or for other people? Do I want to inspire or entertain, or what?" I didn't put any kind of thought into it. I just started writing. And writing and writing and writing.
It really took off once I moved into this house with Keith. Instead of updating sporadically when I remembered, I started to update every day, more or less religiously. I installed hit counters on all my pages. I started to really care how many people were visiting.
I think that what it boils down to is that I'm a big exhibitionist. I think that my thoughts and feelings are terribly important. Terribly important. Earth-shakingly important. This may make me egotistical. It may make me a braggart. The fact remains that I have this driving need to publicize my life, to leave some sort of lasting record of all the days I've lived through, to bring it together and sort it out and create some kind of synthesis. When I'm done with this journal I want it to stand for all that I was, for everything I did, for everything inside of me.
I know that probably sounds a little lofty. It is lofty. It's ridiculously lofty. Who am I, some office worker with too much time on her hands, some recent college graduate who's so full of her own self-importance that she can hardly look beyond her own nose?
I know this, and it's still the way I feel. If I don't write my thoughts down, who will know them? Who will ever remember them? I think I have some important things to say, dammit, and if I don't write them down, they will be lost forever.
And so, I'm writing them down. I'm writing them down for you to read. You have your own thoughts about my life and the things I do and say and think. Some of you tell me what you think, and some of you don't. Either way, I've affected you. Maybe not a lot, but I've affected you. I've altered your life in some way. I've made you think about the things that I think about, and maybe I've entertained you in the process. Maybe I've made you think, or made you laugh. Maybe I've made you shut your computer off in disgust.
Words are powerful. If I can use the power of my words to entertain and enlighten some small percentage of the masses, well, then I've been successful at something. I've had a lasting impact on the world around me.
We all have some sort of impact on the world surrounding us, but mine is in writing, you see. And to me, that's important.
THE FORUM: What's your lasting influence on the world?
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