The idea of writing every single day takes me back to my tween years; to my days as a hardcore diarist. I wrote about every minutia; details of notes passed and levels reached on Oregon Trail were fodder for entries. Everything was worth writing down; it’s cute and totally self absorbed at the same time.
But as an adult it’s hard to diary like a child. I mean maybe it’s because I am so out of practice or I don’t care to recall the small things. I forget so easily these days; not because I can’t remember but because I’m too busy being “in my twenties”, that the small things are far too insignificant compared to growing up. I thought by now that I would have “grown up” enough to be able to stop and savor my station in life; but I haven’t really. Or at least I don’t feel as though I have. It’s weird.
Writing everyday is going to be challenge for me, not because I can’t write- I can; but what if nothing happens. Discoveries of the exciting variety come less frequently; and gone are the days when things were new- I mean, I’ve lost my virginity, I've had the amazing pleasure of getting my period and my heart has been broken more times than I have fingers- the jig is up.
Today nothing new or exciting happened; it was just another day being twenty six.