... was this pensive, sleep deprivation driven little number. It is arguably less amusing than the sort of stuff I normally post, but has my usual quaint flair. It also allows me to reflect upon the old “second year depression syndrome” that hit me rather hard in a somewhat more positive light, knowing as I can that some good was yielded from it. Here it follows:
“I am often told by those around me that I say many things that are perhaps clever, or insightful, or wise, and am often advised to write a book(s) on the things I talk about. Truth be told, however, I cannot do this, for I soon forget the things that I have said. It has just now become apparent to me that recording my thoughts on a given day might allow me to learn from myself, and perhaps get a little closer to being as clever and wise as I appear to be.
The idea of keeping a diary held little appeal for me for a long time, and I do not take photographs of important events or people or places. This is because events mean little to me, and I have always been content to forget the trivial details of them. Sometimes I suspect that the reason my memory of the past is so bad is that I do not care enough about it to retain the memories. The thing I remember most about my childhood and my life in general are my thoughts and attitudes, and even these memories distort over time. It has become apparent to me now that much of my life is lived in thoughts, fancies, ideas and daydreams, and it is these things of which I should be keeping record. This is not because I am either clever or wise in all but the most superficial respects, but precisely because I am not.
When reading C. S. Lewis’ “The Great Divorce”, I noticed several occurrences of words to the effect of “when you were a child you knew that…” and it becomes apparent to me that, although I retained many of the better aspects of my childhood, such as my sense of curiosity and wonder, there is much to be gained by reflecting on it nonetheless. Although I often imagine myself in 10 years time looking back on my young self with disappointment, yet I suspect now that there may also be follies and pitfalls in the future that I can warn myself against now, just as my child self might have warned me of how foolish 20-year-olds can be, had only I kept an account then too. But this account does not concern events, and shan’t be ordered by chronology. This is a chronicle of my thoughts, which are, in essence, almost all that I am made of. If these were taken away from me, there would be little left indeed (yet, by God’s grace, not nothing).
In addition, I would like to combine this with my dream diary that I am using to try and invoke a lucid dream. There are some (perhaps somewhat amusing, now I think on it) reasons for this. Tonight, however, no entry on dreams will be featured, as I have done it to myself yet again: committed myself to an epic all-nighter (or three) that could easily have been avoided. This might have been a bad time to start this account.”
That’s right, I forgot that I already had a blog. Lolz!