Last year I resolved to keep a journal to record my thoughts and set them down on paper. It felt cultured. It felt byronic. It felt fake. I wrote on it for about a week, then I forgot. Somehow, it wasn’t me.

But now, I realize the value of keeping a record of days. Especially for someone like me who can’t even remember what he did yesterday. Especially now that I have a daughter to take care of…

That week of journal keeping did teach me something: typing out your thoughts is not as easy as it first looks. The mind works infinitely faster than the fingers, and try as one might, the stream of consciousness escapes before it is set down. I guess, I’ll just have to purify my thoughts then and keep my writing lean, but dynamic and coherent.

This year, I promised myself I’d do better. It seems that to faithfully keep a journal, I need to focus. I need to keep it in rhythm; make it a part of me.

Well, hope springs eternal. I’m off to try this journal thing again, and if I do make it past one week, then I guess I’ve already made improvements.

What a way to start this blog! The stirring masterpiece I wrote as my opening post (and on which I used up thirty minutes of my precious time!) has not been saved. Darn!

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