At Least It's Not Old-Growth (1/14/09 Wednesday)

I printed out the blog up through the fourth. My intention is to read it through once without marking it, keeping editorial ideas to myself. There's no way I can read it as a reader, though, and that's what I most need to do if I'm ever to understand what I've been through. If I can make this writer another person, perhaps I can identify with him, empathize with him. Another irony: being someone else in order to find myself. This would also help me become the narrator of the book, a viewpoint that will augment, elaborate and even contradict that of the journal-writer.

But I hesitate to read it. I'm afraid of what I might find, though I know it would be valuable for my growth. I don't want to face the naiveties and immaturities that surely await me. I don't want to find validation for the label "obsessed"--not after I've worked so hard to deny it. There's bound to be a stack of denials to throw one-by-one on the fire, but most will still be green with reluctance and will simply emit an obscuring smoke. I might have to read it many times to dry it into a hardened objectivity.