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Thursday, November 16, 2006

Ever since I was a little girl I've tried to keep a diary.

Every once in a while when I pretend to do "spring cleaning", I come across a box with old journals. Its finding this box that usually stops the cleaning/organizing process for good, because I sit and read through each page, always getting frustrated that I didn't continue...I wonder what else happened that month, that year...that has been erased from my memory bank? Maybe if I had written it down I could remember it and perhaps it would have made a difference in my life right now.

It was always the same...I would start all gung ho, thinking "this time I definitely will keep a journal of my daily life...foreverrr!!!". Of course after a couple (two, three) weeks, I would stop. I wonder why? It was probably fear of having someone find my life and deepest secrets spilled onto those pages. Or was it simple laziness?

Anyway, I am finding it very easy to keep this blog thing going and I was thinking about how exhibitionist it is of me/us that are doing this sort of thing. I probably can continue to do this "foreverrr!!!" because of the possibility (the "naughty" chance) that someone might/will read it.


I'm no longer afraid that someone will discover my deepest secrets. As a matter of fact, I kinda want to share them. I obviously do it in my artwork, spill my life onto the surface.

Why? who knows.

Maybe the chance "that one" person will see it and understand, not think its weird, not be disturbed by it, not laugh or cringe or avoid it, but rather face it, take it all in and simply "get it" and "get me".

We all want to be understood, to be accepted and loved and appreciated....

maybe one day.

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