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Since January 1st, 2013, I have kept a journal every single day. It is my Jane-A-Day Journal, a book with a Jane Austen quote for each day of the year, and a few lines to document what happened that day. A ribbon is attached to the spine of the book, and I love to watch that ribbon hold my place as the year speeds onward. It is almost halfway through the book now!

My blog came up in e-conversation today, and so I thought I'd have a look at what I had written when I last visited. It made me think about why I do this. Even when I wasn't blogging this year, I was still keeping a record of my daily activities (and a dear new friend, Nina, gave me an additional journal to work through some more personal issues...so I was double journaling for a while there). And before the blog, I kept a diary since the end of sixth grade, as evidenced by my shelf full of awkwardly written composition notebooks in my childhood bedroom (they are all written in the style of whichever book I was reading at the time, which was sadly quite frequently one of the Angus, Thongs, and Full Frontal Snogging books or the Gossip Girls series, whoopsies). Adina, I know you feel me on this one.

So, why must I compulsively record the mundane events of my life? Why must so many of us, who blog or journal, or take a photograph every day, have something to show for our time?

I like to think that I don't blog because I'm self centered (although I am...it's just not WHY I blog). I like to think that I don't blog because I think my life is that interesting that other people need to read it (although...it is rather interesting). I like to think that I blog to share a piece of my humanity, to share my inner life. To make myself a little vulnerable, which (as I learned--with Elysha and the rest of my sorority--in Human Bonding this semester), leads to intimacy. After reading some of my posts, you might think you know me a little better, or understand a part of what I'm trying to achieve in this life. You might find that you connect with my inner life in a way that you couldn't connect with my outer life.

But most of all, I record the goings on of my life because time is precious. I do not want a week, a day, a moment to go by unrecognized or unremembered. I do not want to forget the jokes, insights, tenderness, and love of my friends and family members. I do not want to forget WHY my favorite professors were my favorite professors, and I do not want to wake up one morning as a college grad and think, where on earth did four years go? Because even though I might think it for a moment, I will just consult my little books, my posts, my memory box, and then I will realize--through ticket stubs I hoarded, bar wristbands I labeled with the date and place, flowers I pressed, old text messages on old phones I can't get rid of--that my life has been magical, miraculous, that, even though it can't always be seen in the moment, it can be seen afterward, and only magnifies with time. In retrospect, it is easier to add up the little things so they amass to something greater than the sum of their parts.

So, I will conclude with my day:
I worked with Lena, and we went on our traditional walk around Fall Creek neighborhood to CTB, where the same cute punk rock bagel boy took our order (WHO ARE YOU BAGEL BOY???), and we saw a blue heron on the way. I took a much deserved and longer than expected nap, I listened to the soundtrack from the Great Gatsby movie, ate dinner with Liz, Claire, and Bridget at the KD house, and studied on 7th Olin where I ran into Andrew and said goodbye to Simon (who, if you must know, came bearing a lilac flower). And now I'm blogging. Solid day.