When I was a youngster, I often toyed with the idea of keeping a diary. See the thing is I was writing all the time. I would write on white napkins that I found around the house or in restaurants, I would write vivid sentences in wet mud after it would rain, I would write anywhere and everywhere I could. This resulted in me accumulating scraps of paper and other materials all over the place with my scattered thoughts all over them. More often than not, I would lose these within a week only for them to resurface from the crap in my room five years later much to my embarrassment regarding the naivety of my young writer's voice shouting back at me.
So I contemplated keeping a diary. Something that would be a paper model of my brain, riddled with sketchy drawings, disconnected thoughts and radical ideas. An origami mind. But the idea of keeping a diary died before it was physically manifested. I think it's because I like finding patterns in the chaos I create. Messy ideas and broken thoughts give birth to fresh ones, a cycle of creativity. Recycling the filth of my mind.
My origami mind never panned out but I learned a great deal from those notes that I left to my future self. I learned never to rely on just one medium of communication. And it's served me well. So here I am, blogging. Just another plateau of my digitally fragmented mind on display for the world to see. Another website to visit. Another profile to create. Another password to remember.
That diary doesn't seem like such a bad idea now.
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