My memory stinks.
I'll remember certain moments or feelings. Like saying something stupid in front of a guy I liked or flubbing the audition for the Christmas concert solo. Great memories are vivid too, like screaming the moment my agent emailed that she'd like to represent my manuscript and the night my siblings raced across the continent to surprise my parents for their 20th anniversary.
But other stuff is kinda blank. Friends will mention parties we threw or people we knew and I'll have no idea what they're talking about. Some of them journaled and they have these awesome accounts detailing every minute of what they felt were numbingly inane days. But those accounts are amazing because they bleed feelings.
And I'm so jealous. I never journaled. This blog is the closest thing I have to a journal and one of the reasons I enjoy blogging so much.
Have you journaled?
4 years ago