Reflecting on True Stories

I've been writing in journals since 1978. The last I counted, I had 27, but I've filled at least three more since then. About a year ago, I began to transcribe them into one document.

Some journal entries are meaningless, even ridiculous. The writing is stream-of-consciousness. I wrote some entries late at night. They remind me of dreams. Some dreams are clearly the mind's way of cleaning itself up. They're senseless and pointless. Other dreams matter. They're the ones we might share with someone else or even write down. 

I'm trying to only transcribe journal entries that matter. There are some that represent factual aspects of my life. Some tell about people who I knew. There are entries that capture significant experiences. These are life-changing moments. Matthew Dicks would call them, "five-second transformations." Those times turn into the most interesting stories. They are the ones most likely to influence someone else. They are the ones that really matter.

I've written up several of those moments on this blog. I'm planning to write more.

As far as I know, I'm not writing fiction here. The stories I've shared are as true as I can make them.

I took a break from transcribing my journals about a year ago, once I reached 1986. I'd wrapped tape around the 1986-1988 journals to seal them up. I didn't want anyone to read them. I didn't want to read them. I wasn't ready to be confronted with some of the events that happened during those years. 

A couple of days ago, I wrote the story, "Who Am I?" which happened during that era. After I finished writing, I was interested in verifying a few facts. So I took off the tape. That experience was such a powerful one that I wasn't too surprised almost everything I wrote in the story is accurate. The only difference is I left out one of our roommates. 

 "Pat" arrived the second semester of my freshman year. She roomed with "Carrie" after her sister "Mary" left. I had a tiny idea she existed, but I wasn't sure. Even after reading about her in my journal, she's still a shadow. According to a letter I wrote to Carrie, there was some financial drama surrounding this girl. She had to leave school early. 

So is that story wrong because I left out this girl? No. I'm not going to bother adding her in. She was rarely there at the apartment. Come to think of it, she was possibly much like I was at the beginning of my freshman year. If I hadn't been motivated to get to know myself and the other roommates, that story wouldn't exist.

It would be interesting to compile a journal of only transformative moments. I guess they call that a memoir.