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Intro

Intro

 

Okay, yeah, it’s me. And to answer your question, “Why am I writing a diary?” – because my therapist, Dr. Fishman, said it would be good for me, that’s why. And because maybe my words would help others as well (which is what my publicist said I should say, so I that I appear altruistic and enlightened). Also, because taking pen to hand might my help my A.D.D. Might help my A.D.D. Might help my …. hey wait, am I repeating myself? If so, sorry; I have a teenaged son; I have to repeat myself ALLTHETIME. (Which I’ll deal with on another day, when I’ve had an eleven-mimosa breakfast and will enjoy purging my soul, rather than planning my child’s kidnapping.)

 

I actually hate the concept of journaling. I’m not a confused teen or angry lesbian. I’m not a frustrated poet, I don’t generally remember my dreams, and I loathe any kind of overt introspection.

 

But there is something I hate more – not getting my money’s worth. And if Dr. Fishman, who I am paying top dollar to make me mentally healthy and spiritually complete, tells me to journal, I might as well try. Worst case scenario, it’ll cost me less than the way I normally fill the hole in my soul, which is thru’ shopping.

 

I DID try to journal in the past – once, and unsuccessfully -after seeing the movie, “Heathers,” in which Winona Ryder, writes the classic line, “my teen angst now has a body count.” Spoiler alert (even though the movie was made in 1988): at the end of the movie Wynona kills Christian Slater.

 

I was very resistant to the idea of keeping a diary until Dr. Fishman inadvertently fed my beast within, by pointing out that in order to start journaling one has to go out and buy either a diary or a new computer … or both. Shopping! Ding-Ding-Ding!!!

 

Also important is that historically, publishing diaries has proven to be quite a lucrative industry; think about it – Anne Frank, Anais Nin, my mother and Bridget Jones, all made fortunes (with ongoing passive income) publishing their diaries. And since Anne, Anais and Mom are all dead, and Bridget isn’t real, the market is ripe for a new (and improved!) journal, whose revelations are both heart-warming and heart-wrenching, not to mention funny, soul-baring and acerbic.

 

I hope this answers the question you never really asked, “why I am writing this diary” – both hardbound and on-line.  And if there’s enough of a profit margin, I imagine there’ll be audio diaries, You Tube videos, and who knows, maybe a small yet important documentary.

 

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