This week during the relaxation portion of yoga, Maureen started talking about living each day as if it were your last. One evening, she even said, "What if when you went home after class tonight, and picked up the phone, or sat down at your computer, and you found a message from Creator, saying that you'll be taking your last breath at midnight tonight." She went on suggesting things to do, mostly things like call your mother, tell people you love them, stuff like that. But the first thing I thought I'd do was to throw out my diary.
I've had my purple velvet diary since my dad bought it for my 19th birthday. It wasn't my first diary and (obviously) it's not my last. It's almost full, but I haven't been regular in writing, so most of it is updates, like "I joined this lab, and the people there are pretty nice." In other words, I think most of it is boring. Still, I wouldn't want people reading it.
There's also stuff taped in, like notes or letters people have written me that I wanted to save for whatever reason. There's a photograph, a few drawings, and more than a few fortune cookie fortunes.
Here's a list I made August 6, 1999 (lightly edited for content):
Things to have when I grow up:
CD player int he car
100 disc CD changer
a window (that opens) in the wall of the shower
walls that are painted colors
a sheepskin rug/blanket (I apparently hadn't decided)
no TV in any bedroom
a used passport
I'm happy to note that I have almost all of those things already, and I still haven't grown up.