Emily Always Says I Should Work For The C.I.A.

Growing up, my favorite chapter book was Harriet the Spy. It’s a delightful book about a girl who wants to grow up to be a writer, so she carries a notebook wherever she goes and makes a valiant attempt to write down EVERYTHING she sees. This gets her into some trouble in sixth grade but that part of the story doesn’t matter right now.


…Moving on…

As a pre-teen, I wanted to be just like Harriet. I wanted to know everything and write it all down. Throughout junior high, high school, and even my first semester at college, this desire manifested itself in obsessive journaling. I would spend thirty minutes to an hour writing about my day every. single. night. I should blog some of my journal entries from that time. People would probably get a kick out of my entries about ketchup, etc.

Now, instead of traditional journaling, I spend thirty minutes to an hour a day blogging. I suppose it’s the same thing, but this way, I get to share my thoughts with the world (or, at least, the small part of the world that reads my blog).

As I go through my day, I am constantly noticing things and evaluating their blogworthiness. I observe tourists on the Metro, locals on the streets of DC, my co-workers. It’s like a never-ending stream of potential blogging/journaling.

One of these days, I am going to attempt some play-by-play blogging. I’ll write out all my random daily observations and then blog them. Maybe someone will get an insight into how my mind actually works.

Are you on the edge of your seat yet? I know I am.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I loved Harriet the Spy, too. Tomato sandwiches are still one of my favourite meals, and I dream of one day being able to ride in a dumbwaiter.

I wonder if those of us who read that book as children should have warned the world about the perils of blogging? I mean, we knew what could happen. People blog about their bosses and get fired, and then act surprised, but if they had only read Harriet they Spy, they would have known that people don't like being talked about. It was a prophetic book, really.

I keep forgetting to get my childhood diaries from my mom's house. Some of them would definitely be amusing to post.