Sometimes I imagine my obituary; “she was a prolific diarist”. I’ve kept a diary every year since 2000. They’re not the most articulate documents but they capture my childhood and adolescence nonetheless. My middling thoughts. In the hierarchy of thoughts, my songs get the best ones. The top ones, the bonus rounds, the big Kahunas. The other, passing thoughts make their way into my diaries. What I did that day, what the wind was like. Whose gig I went to and what I’m excited for the next day. The small thoughts are thrown out, destroyed, pitied.
I often get to my blog or social media, and think what is left? I’ve already documented my fullest moments and I’ve already documented my day. What is left to discuss here on these other platforms I have available? Do I have enough worthy thoughts? I’d rather try and write without thinking, and just document. It’s not a skill I have but certainly one I’d like to develop. I don’t want to get to 30 and forget what it’s like right now.
How even the weather is in flux; it looks grey but it’s warm, or it looks mild but it’s freezing, or it’s warm enough for sweaters only but there’s frost on the ground. We’ve messed up the weather with global warming and nobody knows how fast it will change. This might be the only winter we get like this. I want to recall how Ryan has been cooking the best jacket potatoes ever, how we’ve been bingeing on Steven Universe. How excited I am about making videos, my head teeming with unrealised ideas in a way that it hasn’t for a long time. To remember that right now I am wearing a vintage school-skirt I got at the weekend which has a clean “Schoolbelles” name label in the back. It must be deadstock. Would I have preferred a name?
How I have been lopping off huge chunks of my hair; it’s yet to make any visible difference but I felt like a haircut. How this winter we have been overrun with candles. As a child I thought candles were amongst the worst and most boring gifts adults gave each other. I’m still inclined to agree; me and Ryan were given 3 this Christmas (please, age us further – you couldn’t get any Linda McCartney sausages?), but at the same time it’s nice having non-electric light. How Danilo has moved away and it’s basically just James and Sarah for everyday calls now. Where did that massive group of pals go? These are the little passing thoughts I have this January, the things I want to remember. The pictures I will try to store in my mind, free of judgement and analysis. What does your January look like?