I know I haven’t been active on here lately—forgive me. My new job requirements are very demanding, time-wise, thus I don’t have mountains upon mountains of free time on my hands. There I go excusing myself…
Maybe you don’t like your job, maybe you didn’t get enough sleep, well nobody likes their job, nobody got enough sleep. Maybe you just had the worst day of your life, but you know, there’s no escape, there’s no excuse, so just suck up and be nice. ~Ani Difranco
But let’s get to the point.
What’s a delicious diversion? Well it could be anything…More specifically, what’s my delicious diversion, besides potato chips?
Ha ha, no, I’m just kidding. I haven’t adopted a pet book. No, plants are enough for me for now. Besides, I’m planning on having a lot of these books, given their lifetimes. (By lifetime, I mean pages left — so far, I’ve taken up half the book without about a month and a half. Do the math.) So, I’m not planning on naming it. Or at least, not anything as unoriginal and hackneyed as a noun appended with a -y.
My book is my delicious distraction.
“So, JP, is this a journal, a scrapbook, a novel diary, a…what is it? Exactly?”
Well, it’s a journal, a scrapbook, a novel notebook, a sketchbook, a…Well…
Dude. It’s a book.
This book has no specific point. Except to record. To record life as I know it, and life as archaeologists may find it someday. Into this book I’ve written my feelings, my thoughts, my hopes, my obsessions and my daydreams. I also staple letters, envelopes, drawings and newspaper clippings into it.
It’s become a catch-all for my thoughts.
Maybe that’s why this blog and I have grown apart.
Maybe I need to see Oprah about this.
Maybe I should just kick myself in the back pockets and get to work.
Maybe I’m overthinking this. …
Have you ever kept a “Time-Suck” journal/scrapbook/diary/catch-all/ramble-haunt/infodump-dumpster?