Memories, Popping up Like Mushrooms

Journal Archive

My journals are popping up all over the place as if they were dandelions (or mushrooms) sprouting up in the front yards of a neighborhood. But I think now I will try to keep them all in here somewhere and then eventually I will type them all on the computer so I can have them

I love how I annotated my own entry here, crossing out dandelions with mushrooms. Smart girl, as the mycelium and their networking prowess seem more correct for this context of transmitting and sharing messages :)

saved in the vaults of cyberspace as well. These are the most valuable things to me, so I will have to pay myself for such a carpal-tunneling, tedious task as tap tap tapping away my manuscript onto a monitor and modem as merely memories. But like I said, it's all so worth it. But I am also nervous, am I ready to recount all the recorded memories? The sour and the sweet? The timeline of my life is tough to look back at only in the sense that most of the journals with puppies or sparkly stripes on the covers are full of innocence and pure observation. There is not judgement in those old books, no criticism, no analysis. I see how spongey I was, how absorbent. And now I see its effects in Jake, Mom, Dad, and myself. It will be a puzzle, and comprehension, evaluation, and hilarious (no doubt). But that is a task for a different break.