These books are diaries. I write in my diary every day, and this photo shows the pages kept from 2005 to this very morning.
!["Juicy" comes to mind.](https://www.maryfons.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/6/2013/08/photo1-1024x1024.jpg)
These pages (several thousand) are the offline journal, the log, as opposed to the blog; remember, the term “blog” was coined by combining the words “web” and “log,” sometime in the heady, early days of the Internet. I found myself wondering if “weboural” was ever considered, or “wiary,” which I like very much, since it accidentally creates a ubiquitous tech word like “wire.” Besides, “blog” sounds like a heave or an eruption. “She was so sick she blogged up the chicken she ate for dinner.”
Why do I write in a diary? Do you write in one? Why do you do it?
Occasionally, I speak to students about writing and when I do, I share this quote by American philosopher John Dewey:
“If you are deeply moved by some experience, write a letter to your grandmother. It will help you to better understand the experience, and it will bring great pleasure to your grandmother.”
That’s why I keep a diary. It’s why I write at all. Writing helps me to make sense of my life. If someone else is encouraged or entertained, then I have created value for my fellow man. To paraphrase Horace Mann: “Until you have done something significant for humanity, you should be ashamed to die.” I’m not suggesting my diaries are significant in any way, but they are an attempt, a wee flag waving.
They’re also extremely juicy. Like, juice bar juicy. Like all the juice bars in southern California juicy. Did I mention I’m a quilter? It’s an excellent front.