Also, I finished Venturing Past the Shore today. Ironically, guess what the new Dr. Nbook is called?
Attack of the Sleep-Eating Zombies, Dr. Nbook 56
Wow, I start it just after I actually sleep through the night. How ironic.
As I put the last Dr. Nbook away, though, I discovered something. I'm running out of storage space for them. I'm guessing that I can probably fit around six or seven more in my current storage spot, and I know I'll write in at least that many before I graduate. Right now I'm thinking ahead and trying to figure out what to do with the extra few that I'll accumulate. If I have that many now (I'll put up a list tomorrow or Monday so you can see for yourself), how on earth am I going to move all of them out when that day comes?
Someone in embodiment mentioned this, and I thought about it. What will happen to my paper journals when I die? I don't mean to sound pessimistic or anything, but I'm just being realistic, especially with my current quantity of writing. [Note that I said quantity, not quality.] If I keep writing at the rate that I am now, I'll be responsible for killing so many trees, but that's not the point. Will anyone care to read through all of them? Sure, I'll have family and maybe a husband and maybe kids who might care about what I've written, but will they really want to go through everything I've written? I don't even want to read through everything I've written at this point (even though the intended audience is Future Me, but I think I have different reasons for that--I can't read my at-the-time handwriting, I don't want to break my older Nbooks and Dr. Nbooks, some of them are flat-out boring, et cetera.
I think I just want to be remembered, even if it's in some small insignificant way. If Dr. Nbook does this, fine. Writing too much is still better than writing too little.
P.S. I found this over in linguaphiles today. Pagan euphemisms for sex: you have been warned.