Do any of you guys actually keep a diary desu

do any of you guys actually keep a diary desu

Thinking about starting one for any trips that I go on

My posts are my diary. My bantz are my soul.

Yes. I mostly fill it with engineering ideas and notes on articles read throughout the day. Sometimes I write about society and how people relate to each other.

I do desu

Yes, I mostly write about a few big ideas a day or just how I feel about something I saw that day
And yeah I know it's probably pseud garbage but I don't really care

im a philosophy major

Only when I go /trv/ desu

Yes. I detail my writing process and try to improve my style/skill by reasoning through it. I also write about life in general, politics, other such stuff.

I do. But I haven't written in it for quite some time now.

THIS IS NOW A DIARY ROLL THREAD
----------------
IF DUBS YOU NEED TO POST A PAGE
NO PUSSYING OUT LIKE LAST TIME user
ROLL
ING

Well fuck

Ok looks like you're up first champ

I chastise myself for not maintaining a diary when I was growing up and yet I still don't do it now. In truth I don't want to remember these days.

#whoa

leo?

roll

>So this one's from last summer. I've removed names and switched some genders, cuz I'm paranoid. I probably don't come off all that well here, but, I mean, it's a diary so coming off well is almost contrary to the mission of the thing, which, to my mind, is working out the knots of your personal life.
>Part 1 of 2
It’s been a long time since I’ve written one of these. Given up on History of Ancient Greece and postponed reading Ulysses. Just now I’m slugging through Anton Chekhov’s stories and Blood Meridian. It’s difficult to motivate myself to read for long periods of time.

I noticed something that I have begun doing in conversation. While talking to [One] today about “arguing” with [Two] about art, I started responding in a deliberately unreasonable and unwarranted way to the facts of that night. [One] insisted on these being just aspects of [Two’s] character, while I felt the need to interpret them as specifically directed at me, despite knowing what she was saying was correct. It’s almost like I feel the need to take part in the construction of a portrait of myself as unreasonable: probably something about wanting to seem to be vital and driven by passions rather than by reason, when the two aren’t really opposing forces.

That night, I do feel was awful, however. Because she is sensitive and can be “set off” so easily, when I disagreed with her, I felt the whole room turn against me. This sounds like I’m indulging some kind of victim delusion, but it’s more complex. [Three], knowing [Two’s] way of kicking off, wanted me to shut up (and I understand; I wanted myself to shut up as I was talking, but more on that later). [Four] on the other hand had another motive. He spent the entire night on the same couch as her, edging closer as time went on, and was there at the place long after I’d left and [Three] had gone to bed, (he was there till “stupid o’clock” [One] said, maybe reporting what [Two or Three]had said). He can do whatever he likes, but it’s a bad sign that he turns so easily on a friend, to pursue a relationship, or whatever he was trying to pursue. And I resent the idea that I’m fine with being treated that way, that having the whole room turn against me isn’t going to ruin my night. All I was doing was expressing an opinion, about art and how it has to answer the questions of its particular time as a duty, and she interpreted this as a personal attack on her work, simply because I criticized artists that she admires (who are technically competent but conceptually bankrupt).

However, it’s also worth noting that I didn’t feel entirely in control of my words as I was talking and my tone was more aggressive than it should maybe have been (because I care a lot about the topic). I knew that what I should have done was let it go, the moment she started flaking, but I felt that I couldn’t (in the sense of having a job or a duty that “prevents” me from stopping, rather than the sense of being physically unable). And this loss of control is starting to occur regularly. My conversation with [One] and my wilful irrationality is part of the same condition. I get the sense of having a character I have to conform to, yet little idea from where this character emerges.
I’m giving an overly negative picture of the last month, which has been mostly okay. At [Five’s] get-together, I drank far too much and can’t remember a lot of it. I should ask [Six] out, but I need some way of leading into it. I worry that all the evidence I see of her being attract to me is delusional. This is something that bothers me: knowing that however much personal change I make, I won’t change essentially, and will stay the same person. I’ve become a great deal more confident, but the wrong situation will kick me straight back into this default anxiety and self-consciousness. But at [Five’s] get-together, I got close to her and there wasn’t any of the awkwardness there usually was with her (I don’t know why, but, before, the conversation rarely flowed smoothly on either side.) I’ll ask her how the job thing went, then start talking to her that day, or I’ll think of another opener, but I’ll message her before next Wednesday.

>Also, no worries. I found a reason not to message [Six], and have since burned that boat

Its actually a journal user

only a dream diary desu

nothing interesting ever happens in real life contrary to what slice-of-life fags would have you believe

Sort of. I write my ideas down, and advice to my future self

Rollin for embarrassment

get rekt

Literally my diary desu

I used to have one. I was encouraged to start it by a counsellor.

It was less a diary and more a free writing excercise with a loose focus on the day. I just lay down a load of random thoughts on a page. It helped me sleep better.

Yes, basically what I did during the day, ideas on politics and society in general, sexual fantasies, hopes for the future and screenplay ideas.

Yes, but I only type in it once every few weeks.

i used to keep one and i was being excruciatingly honest about me there, to the point that it would hurt
then day after day i just couldn't write anymore, i feel too sad

I'm too shy to write a diary