Dear Diary,

Okay. Here's another stab at that every day thing. I think you can pretty much count on me not writing over the weekend. I try to stay away from computers as much as possible so if I can avoid one over the weekend, I will.

I'm exhausted. It's that time change thing (hopefully by now you did change your clock. Otherwise, I have news for you, you're late for work.) But maybe if I write while I'm tired, I will have trouble censoring myself and you'll get the real me. Mostly I'm noticing that I'm just making a lot of spelling and grammatical errors. Sorry if that drives you nuts.

A number of people wrote me about the blog after I mailed out the addresses in my music newsletter. That is super cool. Because what's the point of putting your diary online if no one is going to read it? I might as well just write in a book then. Only to be found, published and famous upon my death. Here's how crazy I am. I think about that kind of thing when I am writing in my journal. (Journal - diaries are so 8th grade, or last year for me.) But yes, there is a part of me that censors even when I write in my journal. No I don't think my mom (or my husband) or anyone is reading it right now. But it is there. It is permanent. And someday I will die and then I won't have any control over it. And who knows what people will do with your stuff when you're gone. Mostly just toss it out, I know. But still, it bugged me in Bridges Of Madison County that basically her kids are reading about her torrid love affair! Is nothing your own? Is no moment yours?

This from a person who is publishing their thoughts on line for the world to see. I know, I know. It doesn't make sense. If I found my mother's diary, I don't think I'd read it. It was for her. I guess you could say that then you learn about your mom being a real person and not just your mom on a pedestal. Or a part of her lives on in you knowing. Or just that it was a good story well told and that's why they made it a movie.

Overall, who worries about this besides me?! Who worries about what happens to their journal when they die and worries about how people/family/the world when-it's-turned-into-a-movie will look at me when they read these things? First of all, I'm not that important. Second of all, I'll be dead, what could I possibly care about then? Third, would anything I wrote count anyway if I'm constantly thinking about this and censoring myself? Do you see my psychosis? Do you see why it's necessary to stretch myself and put this blog out there? Do you know how many times I re-typed these sentences?

BTW, speaking of looking at someone's diary. The British government asked regular people to write letters documenting their lives during WWII. Nella Last wrote, signing her letters, Housewife, 49. Her "blog" was turned into a book and then a tv program which won several awards in Britian. "Housewife, 49" is now being released on dvd. It sounds really cool and I'm very excited to see it! Sure I wouldn't want someone to read mine, but I'll see hers... The hypocrisy never ends.