Repaving the Path Down Memory Lane

I'm in the process of converting my electronic journal from the format it's in to a Word document format. The reason is that the original software, which is 15 years old, is unsupported and eventually won't run on an upgraded system. The conversion is a tedious and time-consuming process because it first gets converted to rich text, then is copied, pasted, rearranged (taking out extra line spacing), spellchecked and, finally, is saved using the Word .doc format. The old software only allows a certain amount of data to be converted at a time and it comes out to be 10-15 days worth of entries. I've been using the program since early 1999. Like I said, tedious and time-consuming.

While I rarely went back to read what I put in the journal before, the conversion has given me an opportunity to wander back down my own memory lane for at least 12 years, which does my middle-age memory good. There is a certain amount of repetition to the entries. I always knew I had a mostly boring life, but the reading so far really kind of confirms it. There are things I'd forgotten, though - some funny, others poignant. There are even bits of general history documented as well. As an example, for about two weeks after the incidents of 9/11/2001, I made entries pertaining to it and the events that were happening afterward. Interesting reading, if I do say so myself.

People keep journals for various reasons. Sometimes, it's to remind themselves of what they did and/or thought in their younger years. Sometimes, it's for family members to read after they're gone so they get an idea of what their weird aunt or uncle was really like. Sometimes, it's just to document the day-to-day in history for future generations to read, or just for police to ponder over and glean who the culprit was that pushed you in front of the bus, even if it was you.

For me, I'm not really sure why I started journaling or have continued it all these years. Perhaps it's for all of the above reasons, plus the fact that journals are silent sounding boards, a place to kvetch to at the end of a long day that doesn't judge what you've done, said or thought. Finally, let's face it, I love to write and with a journal, I don't have to chose my words carefully like I feel I must to some extent in the online world.

And good news - when I'm gone, my documented life and times are only a few clicks away from being deleted and forgotten. Most lives come and go that way, after all. In the scheme of things, with all those who have passed into history and faded from our memories, only a relative handful of personal histories have survived the test of time. I doubt I'm one of those, but I hope someone reads at least a few passages before it all hits the electronic ether.