FIGURE THINGS OUT BY WRITING THEM DOWN? OKAY BOOMER

Is it true you can figure things out by writing them down, or is there more to it?

Who said, “I don’t know what I think until I write it down?”

Who?

Don’t panic, it was Joan Didion. I know questions make some people nervous. (Me)

From National Public Radio:

 

SUSAN STAMBERG reporting:

Joan Didion has made a powerful, respectful, disciplined and loving book out of her experience. There is an elegance of emotions. You feel her loss, but there is no self-pity. “The Year of Magical Thinking” begins with four short italicized lines that are repeated throughout like a mantra.

Ms. Didion, would you please read those lines to us?

Ms. JOAN DIDION (Author, “The Year of Magical Thinking”): (Reading) `Life changes fast. Life changes in the instant. You sit down to dinner and life as you know it ends. The question of self-pity.’

STAMBERG: And those are the very first words that you wrote after your husband died.

Ms. DIDION: Yeah. A couple of days after he died, I was just writing down what was on my mind, and the whole question of self-pity–you don’t want it to overtake you.

STAMBERG: Yes. Once you very famously said, `I don’t know what I think until I write it down.’

Ms. DIDION: Well, that was part of why I wrote it. And, well, as a writer, the first thing you think of doing when you don’t know what to think about something or what you’re going to say, and so you work it up. I mean, that’s the phrase. You get the information.

 

As a reader I hear this: You start out having fun on the merry-go-round of life.

Maybe it’s a carousel and you’re sitting on your favorite pony with mom and dad beside you in case you slip.

Or maybe it’s small disk on a slow spin in the kid playground.

Anyone remember those times, then the same time with your kids, then your grandkids?

Look how much fun everyone is having.

“Weeeee, Weeeee, Weeee.”

All together now, “WEEEEEEEEEE.”

 

And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We’re captive on the carousel of time
We can’t return, we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game

 

Joan Didion Had To Figure Things Out After Her Husband Died So She Wrote A Book

After forty years of marriage to the same man, any woman deserves a trophy, a medal.

Just don’t schedule the awards ceremony while you’re heading out to your grave, a new girlfriend, or that garret window apartment you saw from the tour bus on the Champs-Élysées.

I’m feeling good at thirty-nine years in, so we’ll see.

A merry go round is an apt metaphor for aging.

From fun and games and happy groups to the dogged determination of holding on, things change.

It happened in third grade:

We had a steel merry go round on the grade school playground, a nice, paved surface.

It had already had years of use. No one called it Gravedigger.

The challenge was hanging on tight on the fast spins.

Remember the carnival ride where you go inside a big drum and stand against the wall while it spins faster and faster and then the floor drops down and you’re sticking to the side?

That’s how fast I remember the Bangor merry go round spinning, and how important it was to hold on for dear life.

Eventually, you find yourself pushing the merry go round faster and faster, then jumping on and squatting off the edge and holding on with one hand like a pro.

As the years pass, you are locked down on the merry go round bar and having the time of your life with the cool breeze in your flowing hair.

But, enough is enough and there are other things to do, like the teeter-totter, the jungle gym, the two story slide with long side poles to shinny up.

That’s when you notice you can’t let go of the merry go round bar, and you can’t get off. You’re shackled, or cramped.

If you try to get off you’ll have to run beside it; if you fall it will drag you. On the pavement.

Not to get too depressing, but the idea of what used to be fun turning into something dangerous is lurking everywhere.

Don’t eat poison, or drink poison, if you know it’s poison. What isn’t poison?

Don’t go here, don’t do that, watch what you say. Is that poison?

 

Write It Down And Figure It Out

From Google AI:

 

Launched in May 2011, the site provides a “baby boomer perspective” on life in the Pacific Northwest and beyond. The content is characterized by: 

• Personal Storytelling: Gillaspie uses the blog to share insights on a wide range of topics, including aging, family history, marriage, and his personal experience as a cancer survivor.

• Regional Focus: Many posts reflect on the culture, history, and daily life of Portland (PDX) and Oregon, often contrasting current trends with historical context.

• Generational Bridges: A stated goal of the blog is to help younger generations, like Millennials, understand the “boomer” worldview while fostering bonds between different age groups.

• Eclectic Themes: Frequent subjects include college football (specifically the Oregon Ducks), museum standards, Cold War history, and fitness. 

The site occasionally goes by the tagline “A Davidstorian,” reflecting Gillaspie’s background as a collection manager for the Oregon Historical Society.

Would you like to explore specific blog categories such as David’s cancer survival stories or his commentary on Portland history?

 

I’ll interpret: I write things down to figure things out.

From twitter:

 

My blog gets thousands of hits from China, likely bots. Now from US, again probably bots scanning for AI learning.

I write history with my twist of sweetness, sometimes semi, but not bitter.

1000 words to the good of learning.

Advice I got from a substacker: Write on topics that draw the most traffic packing posts with repeated tags and key words. I write around tags and key words for the reader’s benefit and call it an inspiration.

Yesterday was full of readers, bots, and everything in between.

 

You could say I’m seeing both sides now.

 

PS:

Moons and Junes and Ferris wheels
The dizzy dancing way you feel
As every fairy tale comes real
I’ve looked at love that way

But now it’s just another show
You leave ’em laughing when you go
And if you care, don’t let them know
Don’t give yourself away

 

PSS:

Tears and fears and feeling proud
To say “I love you” right out loud
Dreams and schemes and circus crowds
I’ve looked at life that way

But now old friends are acting strange
They shake their heads, they say I’ve changed
Well something’s lost, but something’s gained
In living every day

 

With thanks to Joni Mitchell