I guess I need an amnesiac priest or something

So, Mom’s found my little blog here. She seemed a little annoyed that I hadn’t written in it since I started it after the event of Grandpa’s passing served to ignite a desire in me to preserve some thoughts and memories. The difficulty for me is that I’m a bit of a private person, which comes partly from my judgmental nature. Those who know me well would probably say I’m about the last person on Earth they would think to describe as judgmental, but they might not realize that the aspect of my personality that sometimes prevents me from passing judgment probably comes from an acute sensitivity to my own errors, making me a little hesitant to cast that first stone. I spend all my stones when I look in the mirror.


I kept a daily journal for more than two years once without missing a single day. I think it ended up around twelve or thirteen volumes. I learned a lot during that period and have since believed that recording personal experiences magnifies what you take away from those experiences. You learn from life, but taking the time to understand and recognize what you learn seems to double the impact of those life lessons – and whether that is your intent or not, I believe that is why so many wise men counsel us to write. And writing is the easy part. The part I like, if I can find the time for it. The hard part is revisiting what you’ve written.


My wife read my journals before we were married. I figured she’d better have an idea what she was getting into before the big “Yes”. I’d forgotten a lot of what I’d written. Surely I wouldn’t have written it down if I thought it was too embarrassing. When I opened those books to see for myself what I had exposed her to, I was pretty happy with some of it and glad for the opportunity to relearn some things I’d forgotten about. But as it turns out I was quite honest in my journals, and not very cautious, so other parts made me want to throw up in my mouth with worry that I had probably blown my shot at this fantastic girl by letting my guard down…and just when I was soooo close.


I seriously thought of typing all of my journals up, a ton of work, for an opportunity to inconspicuously generate a kind of revisionist personal history. My better half knows the temptation now so I don’t think I’m even allowed to touch those volumes these days…they’ve come under her protection.


To clear the record, I wasn’t a serial killer or anything. At least not at the time of the journals. But I was spontaneous, hot tempered, hopelessly romantic, arrogant, self-absorbed, self-righteous, fawning endlessly over the wrong girl and, to make all of that even more embarrassing to revisit, I was kind of a stereotypical poetic type and fond of burned out clichés that I thought I was the first to come up with. Ugh. And now, if I’ve learned anything from looking back, it may be that I am still all of these things (isn't this post evidence enough?). And THAT makes me hesitant to write. But I guess we are all allowed our eccentricities, loyalty in the end will be enough.


Enjoy this little jingle; it is one of my favorites. Obviously I guess, since I pulled the name of this blog from it. And thanks by the way, WenLo & Pretty Penny, for going with me to see it live recently. Sorry you missed it Ernie, it was pretty rad. Rock on.

New Model Army: No Mirror No Shadow

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4HRvnz5koVo