a meta-entry
After watching a DVD in which a diary figured prominently, I've realized an additional benefit to journaling. When we do something deliberately, whether it's take a new job, move someplace different, or agree to care for a new person in one's life, we need to remember the reasons and motives that led us to these decisions.
Later, we may change our minds. My answer to "why are in you library school?" is different now than it was a year ago, before I started taking classes. At first, I was going merely to earn a credential--a set of letters that would enable me to get better jobs elsewhwere. And I took certain classes (like cataloging), not because I would enjoy them, but because I thought they were a de facto requirement.
I've discovered now that there are plenty of librarians without cataloging experience--and that I really enjoyed cataloging, and would take more classes if they were offered (and fit into my schedule).
However, I shouldn't lose sight of my initial decision. Later, if I try and wipe away my initial thoughts of cataloging-as-requirement, and try to pretend that I've always enjoyed cataloging, a journal entry helps keep me honest. I can go back and remember that's not what I was thinking at the time.
So why is this a virtue? "OK, that's how you thought when you were 9/12/15/whenever....but how do you understand things now?" Why go back to a (usually) foolish and incomplete understanding, except to prove a point?
On the DVD, a character tried to hurt one of her friends by insisting that she had never truly liked the other person: that her friendliness was all a mask, a deception to curry favor. Although hurt--shattered, really--by this accusation, the friend found strength to reject this statement as a lie, thanks to a diary where the character had written of her happiness on the first day they met.
I'm not sure hanging all one's feelings out for public consumption is necessary. But "keeping oneself honest" may be an argument, beyond mere catharsis, for doing LJ.
Later, we may change our minds. My answer to "why are in you library school?" is different now than it was a year ago, before I started taking classes. At first, I was going merely to earn a credential--a set of letters that would enable me to get better jobs elsewhwere. And I took certain classes (like cataloging), not because I would enjoy them, but because I thought they were a de facto requirement.
I've discovered now that there are plenty of librarians without cataloging experience--and that I really enjoyed cataloging, and would take more classes if they were offered (and fit into my schedule).
However, I shouldn't lose sight of my initial decision. Later, if I try and wipe away my initial thoughts of cataloging-as-requirement, and try to pretend that I've always enjoyed cataloging, a journal entry helps keep me honest. I can go back and remember that's not what I was thinking at the time.
So why is this a virtue? "OK, that's how you thought when you were 9/12/15/whenever....but how do you understand things now?" Why go back to a (usually) foolish and incomplete understanding, except to prove a point?
On the DVD, a character tried to hurt one of her friends by insisting that she had never truly liked the other person: that her friendliness was all a mask, a deception to curry favor. Although hurt--shattered, really--by this accusation, the friend found strength to reject this statement as a lie, thanks to a diary where the character had written of her happiness on the first day they met.
I'm not sure hanging all one's feelings out for public consumption is necessary. But "keeping oneself honest" may be an argument, beyond mere catharsis, for doing LJ.