I am dying. I was just reading some journal entries from December 2005. It is like crack. I can’t believe how powerful it is for me to read this stuff. A lot of the stuff isn’t even hooked up to episodic memories anymore, but it is just incredible to be able to tap into my thinking from back then.
I have to do more writing in my notebooks, no matter what. It may be the most important thing in my life. I just realized that someday it will be the only thing I have left. My life will be almost over and my powers almost all gone. And I will be able to tap into my rich internal life at another time. The power and richness that is preserved is difficult to believe.
This is clearly one of the greatest things about being a person who mainly lives in his own mind: it is possible to preserve it for later and therefore liven things up later in an extremely powerful way. There is nothing as powerful as the experience of being able to relive your own thinking when you are thinker. It doesn’t have to be about experiences, but those are interesting, too.
The experiences are mainly interesting for the thoughts I also express about them. But it is actually easier sometimes to will oneself to write habitually when one approaches it as "just jotting down daily events." Even when one is short on energy or focus, the jottings tend to trigger the good stuff: expression of thought. Even narrative is thought, of course (and vice versa): but reportage clearly seems to lie on the lower end of the difficulty scale.
Speaking of narrative, a bit of context is in order: I was rereading the 2005 entries because I finally started working on an update to “Turning Points.” That was the piece I wrote in 2005, influenced by an article about John Lennon. In the article, the writer tried to pinpoint the most influential events in Lennon’s. I liked the idea, and I figured I would have an even better grasp on my own life. Eight years later, it is well past time for an update.