It’s the Chinese New Year looming and we are packing again. The husband pulled out one big box measuring 1m x 50cm x 50cm, and forced me to look into it.
Opened up and ran through it. I told him, those are my diaries from as early as 1987 to about 1999ish. You want me to go through that to see what to throw?! now? today?
I went through them and was shocked at the number of diaries I had! There were all forms of books, proper diary, excercise books, printed on A4 computer papers, company planners, foolscap paper filed in paper files, more more and MORE!
Looking at them, one would be forgiven to think I was scribbling everywhere and anywhere on anything, just to get my thoughts out. And I’m surprised there’s no toilet paper roll in that box. Like one day during big business time suddenly ran outta paper and MUST write, have to write so grab some toilet paper to write on.
They remind me of the countless evenings I sat in my grandmother’s one-room rented flat, watching TV, and writing on the diary on my lap or a stool…natsukashi na~ (<-there was a period i was jap crazy)
So what did I write about? I cringe at some of them and couldn’t make myself read them. Alot about the boys I like and what happened that day, like he said “thank you” to me that kind of thing…blueh.. sad or not? lol. The happy times I had with friends, and many also of how I spent my single days. Some of which are totally fun, like paddle ski at East Coast Park, or roller blade along the Ghim Moh canal.
I wish I can say I wrote about the society and my thoughts about how to improve our electoral system, or better chinese education. Or stories about some people in our neighbourhood, how our homes have changed over the years etc. But. No leh, dun have. It was mostly about me. heh. *paiseh*
In a way, it was a way for me to let out my thoughts, not that I lacked friends to confide in. But you can’t tell your friend everything. In a diary, you can indulge. You know, like
“Today *I* did this, *I* went there, *I* met someone, *I* feel great/lousy/happy.”
With utter disregard who’s ever gonna think what about you.
But it wasn’t all useless. I got to practice my writing skill, and in a way, I think in writing, when we lay out our thoughts, it helps us think things through and become clearer.
I guess that was also how I honed my writing skill (or perpetuated the lack there of…lol). After 2000, I met my Dear and he became my diary. I still wrote pieces here and there, on scraps of papers. Then in 2005, I began blogging, so the diaries moved online.
It’s become a habit, one I didn’t know I have until TODAY. Which was why I had previously questioned why I blogged.
Because it’s a habit to pen my thoughts. Now I know.