Sunday, July 19, 2015
Sunday, July 12, 2015
Of all moments in life, why do I choose this particular one as the time to reveal this diary? After all, I have been told for years “Eva, you should write a book.” After awhile I would just shrug and say “I am” and leave it at that.
Sure, millions have written a diary. Nothing all that special there. But how many have chronicled almost 50 years of the Post-Modern woman’s life?
There is however a specific reason I am doing it now. I think I may not care so much later. But I care enough right now to get the first word in.
Before now, I felt I was way too busy living. I could write the tale but was not ready to share. And there were (and are) too many of the innocent and the guilty alive, still with us. I knew I would have to edit half of it out.
And I am, right here and now, editing at least half of it out. This however is not all that different to making art and showing it. I don’t show everything I make. And I think it’s weird when people think “oh I’ve made something, I have to show it” or even worse, “I don’t really make things until I have a show lined up.” But that’s going on a different tangent….
I think I might not care later because I am looking at my 85 year old mother. She is focused on the trees, on the sunshine, on a bird in flight. She’ll interrupt me when I am on some important business to tell me about the bird. Just being alive, that’s what matters. The past and what it held, not so much.
So I want to put some of the diary out just to show that it exists and while I still care.
at 12:12 PM