Thursday's Child (lauri8) wrote,
Thursday's Child

  • Mood:
So tomorrow morning may be the last time I will ever need to fumble for my glasses before I get out of bed. I was complaining about how bored I'll be all day Thursday while I am supposed to lie quietly with my eyes gently shut NO SQUEEZING and my mother shared her strategy with me, which was stay up all night the night before the surgery and then you'll be so tired you will be more than happy to stay in bed afterwards.

Hmmmm. I might give it a shot. But I'm supposed to put eyedrops in every hour, so is it ok to sleep all day? I wonder. IIIIII wonnnnnderrrrr.

I was wondering something today while I should have been working. I was wondering about all these journals that people share with their friends and their families and so forth -- just how forthright and bare-souled can you be when you can't write about the people who matter most in your life?

[Redacted paragraph]

But then what am I going to do, share my journal only with random strangers? Wouldn't that be nothing more than base exhibitionism? Then again, what is it now? These things gnaw at me, and that's probably why I've never stuck with an online journal for long. Anais Nin used to let her husband and lovers read her journals -- indeed, that's often where they discovered they were in favor or disgrace. I felt so sorry for her poor little husband, reading about her passionate, careless flings. I wonder if he ever said to himself, "It's too painful. I won't read about this." And was he able to follow through?

Along these lines, something unsettling happened at work today, and after I had been thinking idly about the nature of online journals, even. I had gone to one of the two creaky old 486s my department shares between the 20 of us, and was looking up a Sylvia Plath passage to see if it was fiction or memoir. As I had been on the computer earlier that afternoon looking for a decent map of Mississippi, I went to the address pulldown menu to bring up google from the cache. Someone had been to the livejournal page! I looked in history, and followed the link. It was one of my coworkers, a woman I like, and at first glance I could tell she had written a lot about (gasp) recent developemnts at work (nothing about me, thank God). So as soon as I saw what it was and who she was, I closed the page in horror. Then I wondered whether I should tell her about cleaning out the history if she uses a computer at work anymore. But I didn't want to freak her out, either. What to do, what to do. I must admit that when I got home I tried to find her page again, but either I can't remember her user name or the page is private. Whew. I think I'll wait until next week and see if the page is still in history, and if so, gently broach the subject with her. I don't want the freakin' temptation.

  • (no subject)

    So the big hairy deal I made about the color of my . . . damn, I already said hairy, and now I want to say hair, but I don't want to delete hairy…

  • The Color of Truth . . .

    . . . according to Andre Gide, is gray. I started to go prematurely gray in my early 20s. I've been covering that gray, first with store-bought…

  • More from Kennett River

    Want to see what the beach looks like on a sunny Sunday? Here's a truncated panorama, from left to right: It was all mine. Oh, by…

  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.