Wow, I really don’t feel like writing tonight. The imac is acting up and so I am typing on this stupid little netbook. My sociology assignment is late, and I really do not have the ability to focus very well at the moment. I guess this is the time when my resolve is truly tested. It had to happen eventually didn’t it? I really shouldn’t complain. If I am counting correctly I started this blog 17 days ago and have only missed one day. 16 days multiplied by 365 words per day equals 5,840 words. That’s not bad for a guy who hates writing. I also believe that all 5,840 words were somewhat interesting and free of useless filler….until now.
Ugh, there are exactly two years in my life where I actively kept a journal. There were two journals to be exact; one per year. Did you notice that pesky little word “were” in that last sentence? That’s what the “ugh” was for at the beginning of this paragraph. Unfortunately those two journals I mentioned are long gone. Tossed out and sent to the garbage dump in a moment of lapsed reasoning. What I wouldn’t give to get my hands on those journals again. It’s difficult enough re-constructing the many lives which I have lived, but to know that I had a full two years documented religiously is just killing me.
So why did I so rashly throw those journals out? To put it simply they were documentation of a life that I told myself I would rather have forgotten. Oh the foolishness of youth. I have since come to know that every slice of life in which we partake creates a great pie chart of who we are and how we got to where we now stand. Perhaps John Rzeznik said this more eloquently when he stated that “scars are tattoos with better stories.” We may not like some of the stories which those scars tell but if we look close enough we will see that each one of them taught us an important lesson.
We shouldn’t be ashamed of and hide our scars from the world. We should celebrate and flaunt them whenever possible.