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Dear Diary...

 

A man who keeps a diary pays,
Due toll to many tedious days;
But life becomes eventful - then,
His busy hand forgets the pen.
-William Allingham (Irish Poet. 1824-1889)


It's been a month or so since I posted my last blog entry. This blog is the closest I've ever come to keeping a regular diary or journal, though there have been quite a few times when I tried mightily. For example, whenever I traveled to Paris as a student, I thought it was my duty to keep a journal. That is what French students do, n'est-ce pas? They while away the hours in Parisian cafés writing down their innermost thoughts while nursing a $6 café au lait. At least that's what I thought they did when I was 21. I still remember the opening scene of my adventures in Paris quite vividly:

I had just spent a few days in the French countryside with my French family, prior to beginning my grand Parisian adventure. Upon my arrival in France I learned that my luggage had been lost by the airlines, so I was traveling with just an oversized carry-on suitcase. I was taking the TGV train from the Vendée back to Paris where I would officially begin my year at the University of Paris X, also known as Nanterre. For the train ride into the city, I had cobbled together what I thought was a suitably Parisian-chic look from the contents of my carry-on. I wore a black mini-skirt, pleated like the plaid ones private school girls wear, dark black tights, black ballerina flats, and a black turtleneck (it was a bit too warm for a turtleneck, but I didn't care!). I wore an oversized men's cream-colored button-down shirt over my turtleneck, tied in a knot at the waist. My ensemble was completed by a hat, a cream-colored felt bowler trimmed in black velvet. The side of the hat sported a large cream-colored silk rose with just a hint of black velvet and tulle peeking out from behind it. As for my accessories? I remember only two. A journal and a French fountain pen.  

Feeling like a mysterious and intriguing foreign traveler, I settled into my seat on the TGV and wrote about my hopes and dreams for the year ahead. Oscar Wilde once said: "I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read in the train." I thought I was doing one better, by writing in my journal on the train! As the year went by, that infamous year of cabarets and dating Pascal and doing more living than I had in my previous twenty years combined, my journal was cast aside. I only made sporadic entries, believing that I was too busy living my grand adventure to take the time to write about it.

There hasn't been any romantic transatlantic adventure for me lately; these days I've just been busy with "stuff". Mostly, the stuff that clutters up one's routine life - car trouble (not once, not twice, but three times in two weeks!) a leaky pipe in the bathroom, carpet cleaning (it was long overdue!); workouts at the gym (I will get in shape - I will!); work; and a few paltry attempts at having a balanced social life.  Speaking of balance, I guess I've been looking for it with my blog as well. This summer, I'm planning on writing in this online "diary" a little less, and living a little more with the hope that just like Oscar Wilde, I'll have plenty of sensational material for those days when I do blog.

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