I got this idea from Colby Buzzell-the guy who wrote "My War". He's a grunt in Iraq and wrote a blog that enthralled me since I've been obsessed with this war from before it started. The name of the book comes from a Black Flag song, not from any testoreone toxic patriotism I was glad to discover.
When my brother died I went through all his stuff, read his journals and letters back and forth to his ex wife, etc., to get an idea of who he really was, since I didn't know.
We had never been close and when he was dying I went to Texas to say goodbye to him and retrieve him from that god foresaken state, and do what one does when a relative dies. Next of kin type of thing.
He's now gone and I haved saved his stuff, though now I wonder what to do with it. Same with my mother who died a year later, last February.
Read all her journals and letters too, wanting even more to know who SHE was, a more burning need since I never fully understood her. She was a difficult person to be around and I distanced myself from her because of the intensity of her personality.
Someone famous once said something about the worst thing in life is not being known. I don't know about that; there are far worse things. Like being left on a rooftop in your own country, in the house you were probably born and raised in, while Bush is on vacation. While the floodwaters get higher, your death nearer.
Or being an Iraqi whose country has been destroyed by Bush. Destroyed by lies. Destroyed while people here in Marin County (and everywhere else in this country) drive around in their SUV's, go to Starbucks, watch the stockmarket and try to get discounts on everything, though they can afford to pay full price for everything and more.
Funny how I'm starting my own blog, since one thing that bugs me about so many people is their unshakeable belief that everyone wants to hear all about THEM, their every thought, their every experience, no matter how trivial or boring.
Take my ex neighbor who just moved out from the apt. upstairs. Within 2o minutes of meeting her when she first moved in she tells me she's dating a married man (why did she think I wanted to know about this?), has been in rehab, smokes pot constantly and makes $105,000 a year selling kitchen makeovers and major appliances. This is clearly a "boundary" problem.
Some people don't know when to shut up. Not that I objected to being told all this stuff; I just wondered why she assumed I was interested in hearing it.
I believe people do this because we are an isolated bunch, us Americans, and we have no community in the true sense, where we get the attention and intimacy we need as homo sapiens and don't need to blather all about ourselves to total strangers.
When I went to Cuba a number of years ago I saw a different way of living amongst others. EVERYONE is out on the streets, talking, bullshitting, trading stuff they don't need for stuff they do (a kind of underground economy), listening to music, dancing, eating.
When I got home I wanted to wander around my neighborhood, asking "Where are the speakers on the corner so we can all listen to music and hang out? Where is everybody?"
Felt my mood go down an octave when I realized this would NEVER happen in my neighborhood or many others.
Here I am doing a blog, assuming that people want to hear what I have to say. I don't; I just like putting my thoughts into words, I like writing.
After I'm dead someone will probably just delete all this stuff without reading it. Whatever.
Maybe I'll post my "diary" of sorts, the one I did in San Antonio Texas when I went there to do disaster relief after Katrina. Though that's gotten boring too, most of my friends and family have already read it.
Posted a brief blurb on NewOrleans.IndyMedia.org called "RN denounces the Red Cross". Like an idiot I put my address (a PO Box) and phone number in it thinking it was just part of the publishing requirement and wouldn't appear in the post. It did and I got hate mail and harrassing phone calls from FEMA people afterwards.
Even got an email from another nurse who was also critical of the Red Cross. She said "I had a HORRIBLE experience with the Red Cross! Call me immediately!" I didn't call her because I have no interest in talking on the phone to someone who wants to just engage in Red Cross bashing, it doesn't interest me.
I did email her back asking her about her experience. Turns out her HORRIBLE experience was that the RC was giving out SudaFed to the evacuees and she was appalled by this since SudaFed can be made into methamphetamine. Banned in 27 states. She's got her priorities straight, yessir. Deleted her emails and address. Another nutcase.