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  • Dear Diary – Moody Blues, from “On the Threshold of a Dream”, written by Ray Thomas
    Dear diary, what a day it's been
    Dear diary, it's been just like a dream
    Woke up too late, wasn't where I should've been
    For goodness sake what is happening to me?
    Write lightly, yours truly, dear diary

    It was cold outside my door
    So many people by the score
    Rushing around so senselessly
    They don't notice there's people like me
    Write lightly, yours truly, dear diary

    They don't know what they're playing? No they've no way of knowing what the game is
    Still they carry on doing what they can
    Outside me, yours politely, dear diary

    It's over, will tomorrow be the same?
    I know that they're really not to blame
    If they weren't so blind then surely they'd see
    There's a much better way for them to be
    Inside me, yours truly, dear diary

    By Ray Thomas, Moody Blues "Dear Diary"
    ------------------------------------------------------------------------
    I like to journal. I first started keeping a journal when I was 14. Journaling was the beginning of me making friends with myself. It helped me keep things straight, what happened when, and what I was thinking when I made different decisions about my life. I could trust my journals, even when I didn’t feel like there was anyone else I could trust. This really helped me when I first broke away from a very abusive and unhealthy situation.

    I've always saved my journals, but lost everything prior to 1979. All of my journals and all of my writing from up to that point, in the great basement flood (see my story "Lost in the Flood"). It was like losing an important part of me. I grieved that loss for some time after that. Especially the journals. The rest, I got over eventually.

    At any given time, I might have 3 or 4 different journal books going at the same time – (more, actually, now that I think about it). Each one tends to have a different sort of theme running through it, although this is never planned that way. It just evolves and unfolds as that particular journal creates itself. I lose track of them, and then find them, months or years later, in some corner of a closet, or a box of clutter that got thrown together when there wasn’t time to clean properly and the clutter had to be gathered quickly. Yes, I am an inveterate clutterer. My clutter scares even me, at times.

    When I do come across a long lost/misplaced journal, it is just like running into an old friend - in this case, me, the “years-ago” version of me. It's very cool. We'll hang out for awhile , catching up. As I rarely complete a journal book, I'll just start writing a fresh page that picks up 20 years after the last entry.

    Before heading down to mom's, as I was chucking things in my suitcase, having no idea how long I'd be here, I came across several old journals and chucked them in there, just for the hell of it. Last night, as we sat watching the news - Mom has about 5 or 6 different news programs she likes to watch - at age 88, she knows a lot more about what's going on in the world than I do! - I read through my second oldest journal, one that started in 1981, and mostly went through 1984, with added-on entries in 2003, , 2005, 2006, and 2008. I'd dubbed this journal "The Hot Tub Chronicle (by Candlelit Inspiration)", as a number of the early entries occurred whole soaking in a hot tub and writing by candlelight.

    There’s a funny story surrounding this one and a girl I wrote about in it, who I was infatuated with at the time and dated once or twice, and Kathy reading about it in there (I forgot to put “Private”
    on the cover), right before we all showed up at a wedding together, years after I’d written about her, that I will have to write a Cowbird piece about at some point. Very funny.

    I have been neglecting my journals a bit since I started Cowbirding in March. I need to fix that. They have a level of privacy that Cowbird doesn’t, and that’s an important relationship that I need to maintain and nurture. I’ve been reintroducing myself to my old journals, and picking the habit back up while I’m here. It really is good to reconnect with this old friend.
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