That Damn Lane

Despite the fact that I have a million things going on in my life right now, I've been feeling like I need to commit to some sort of lengthy creative project. I've been having problems focusing on any one thing, maybe because I have too much on my plate...but I feel like I need to pick a direction, and fast. Every day, I'm thinking about moving, or not moving, or getting a second job (well, that's not really optional), or doing more photography, or writing something - but I have a gazillion ideas and none of them feel solid - or something musical, though I don't really have any outlet for that (but if anybody is screwing around with (or more seriously persuing) some band or solo project and wants a chick singer to learn/write lyrics to a couple songs, I'm all yours..yikes). Jesus. You see what I mean?

Ok, the POINT is, I think I picked a project, or at least one that I've been meaning to accomplish and I can work through at any pace: I want to type up all my journals.

Now, I'm not really talking about a trip down memory lane here (and I'll credit Gabe with being right about that - nice place to visit, wouldn't want to live there). I want to do this for a couple reasons:

1.) Even with the utmost determination, this is going to take a long time. I'm talking about a minimum of 11-14 notebooks of writing. Bound, nearly full, with little scraps of paper tucked into every nook and cranny, some dated, some not, letters I never sent....literally hundreds of pages of stuff. It's organized TO ME, but not to anyone else, and even to me the chronology is getting a bit disheveled.
2.) If I don't do this soon, something is going to happen to it all. Ok, sometimes I wonder if that would actually be a good thing. Sometimes, this stuff is a weight...but it's very important to me, and in the end I would be heartbroken if it were destroyed.
3.) I need a good laugh. In between the mountains of seriousness, there are many snippets of absolutely hilarious things...quotes from friends that I wrote in the margins, observations about people, stupid poems I wrote in high school, crushes ("I love him, I wonder if he loves me?" I mean OMG I'm going to cringe at my own words. The earliest date I can find so far on any of this is 10/10/92. A poem. I had horrible high school crush and my juvinile words do not express clearly enough the angst and heartbreak I *thought* I was feeling. Anyone who thinks they hate getting older obviously forgets high school.
4.) As humans, we simply forget. We forget the deepness of our experiences and we repeat ourselves. I'm at a crossroads right now, absolutely. I don't think typing up these journals is going to give me the answer to my future. I do, however, think that the reflection might give me a little insight that I probably need.

Now don't get all excited. I'm not publishing this stuff. I'll probably feel the urge to throw half of it away as I read it, but I'm trying to promise myself I won't. There is some pretty incriminating stuff in there...who was doing what drugs when, who bought our kegs when we were underage, and god knows that I hint at *nearly* every boy I kissed. ;) So...yeah...wish me luck, because this is kind of intimidating me now. Oh well, onward...

...but feel free to let me know if you think I should just burn the stuff. ;)