Over the past few months I’ve found myself reading biographies on people that lived well before modern times. One of the things that struck me as particularly interesting was the way writers went about gathering information on their subjects. There were no TV interviews to watch, no documents left behind on the internet, and no living relatives to interview. The best way to learn about the subjects was through the letters they left behind.
Because fame is right around the corner for me and biographies on my life will be in great demand 100 years from now, I thought that leaving behind a trail of letters (digital though they may be) sounded like a great idea. In my opinion, letters are the most illuminating form of communication we have and the idea of experimenting with that was too intriguing to pass over. My younger sister, Lauren, will be participating in an ongoing letter share with me. Where it goes and what we learn about one another I have no idea. Follow along and find out with us.
You can call me Gug. Or Al. The choice is yours.
When you wondered if there was anything Mom wanted for herself that she never got in your previous letter it made me think of a story I’ve been sitting on for about two or three years now. I have it written, but it’s a sloppy mess that needs cleaned up. It’s one of the stories I hold closest and I don’t want to put it out until I’m sure I’m saying what needs to be said. Although, one day I might just have to take solace and call it good enough because I may never have the vocabulary to get it just right.
I haven’t been dwelling on it, but I’ve been thinking here and there whether or not I like the fact that I write about such personal things. It’s a conflict. One day I’ll think these are my thoughts and experiences and they belong with me. And the next day I’ll say but I’ve benefited from others who have exposed their faults and experiences and what if someone else can benefit from something I’ve lived. Don’t be selfish and keep it all inside.
I wonder how it all comes across. It’s one of those situations where if you’re a famous person and you talk about your past you’re just expressing yourself artistically. And if you’re someone like me writing about the same things it may come across as wanting attention or something. Maybe there isn’t a difference? I don’t think I want attention though. At least not for the sake of having attention. But I find it comforting to find people operating on the same wavelength.
There are some stories I’ll never tell and if I did I wouldn’t use other’s names. Maybe that would change if I were ever to write a book, but on a blog like this it seems selfish to throw people in the spotlight (even the low watts this blog operates on) who don’t want that. Especially when things happened so long ago they might not even be the same person my story is about anymore.
You want to hear something slightly morbid that’ll give you a little insight into the things I think about all day? You know the little preamble to our letters up above where I mention “leaving behind a trail of letters”? I want that. All this crap I write is basically me pretending I’m Lord Voldemort creating a bunch of Horcruxes. I don’t want to be forgotten. But I will be. The world keeps spinning and when I die and my credit card isn’t active to pay for web hosting services everything we’ve written is gone. When I think about that concept on a bigger scale it makes me feel like we’re just specs of dust the universe randomly decides to brush aside. And I can’t make up my mind whether that’s sad or beautiful. Maybe there isn’t a difference?
This is the type of letter you get on one of those dark fall days when the rain is coming down with no end in sight.
Have a good weekend,