Dear Diary,

2/24/25

I worked 8 hours today at a job entirely unrelated to my writing. But, during my lunch break, I was thinking of Perpetual Girlhood, and found a scrap of paper on which to write my ideas.

 

Since I am working more now, I have less time to write. But I need to work in order to live and, thus, in order to write–even if there is only a small amount of time left for such a task.

 

So, I thought, Why not write a daily diary entry on my blog?  It seemed–and still seems–like a solid idea in which nothing could go wrong. In fact, it would be a good way to record snippets of my life for later perusal. It would also guarantee I’d be writing on a daily basis–no matter how short the content–since finding time to write has been harder as of late.

 

When I made it home today, though, I just couldn’t find the energy to convert my diary from a concept to a physical entity. (Well, as physical as a digital format can be.) So, hours went by, and I created nothing. 

 

I went on a walk, cooked dinner, and danced in the kitchen. But I didn’t open my laptop until it was nearing time for me to go to bed. (I should be in bed now, but I am writing this.)

 

So, I got online, and saw that someone had left a generous donation for the maintenance and betterment of Perpetual Girlhood. I was shocked and touched and, finally, re-inspired. My writing is worth something. It’s easy to forget that people other than myself read my work. Most times I feel like I am the only person in the world seeing my words on a screen. But that’s not true.

 

So, while this is a ramble, it is also the start of something new. On this page, I plan to add a new entry every day that I possibly can. The entries will most likely be brief, but they will be an honest glimpse into the life of an ordinary girl. ♡

2/25/25

It was another 8-hour work day, but my morning commute was divine. Everything was brown. So brown. Fields after fields of dirt and the remains of last year’s corn stalks. It was such a barren landscape. Miles of desolation. All the snow had melted yesterday. After weeks of seeing a white layer covering everything, the fields now looked as if a fire had swept through and eaten everything of vibrancy.

 

But, this morning, it was so brown. And so beautiful.

 

The sun was hitting everything in such a way that the dull brown colors had acquired their own tone of gold. And, with living in a rural area, there were few houses to break up the landscape. It’s just brown field after brown field after brown field. But it was glorious.

 

It puts summertime greens to shame in the sense that it is not the only beautiful season, no matter what June, July, and August try to make us think. There is not one kind of beauty. Everyone has their own opinion, certainly, but I believe if you truly love nature, in and of itself, you would find beauty outside every single day, no matter the time or location. You’d find beauty because of how changing nature is, how impermanent.

 

Most people overlook mundane beauty–not that nature could ever be considered mundane–and I don’t want to be “most people” in this situation.

 

It is also kind of funny because my whole outfit–my sweater, my coat–was made of different shades of brown. I mean, my skirt was black, but that is (kind of) the absence of color. So, if we don’t count my skirt, the entirety of me was covered in shades of brown.

 

Even though I was making these observations in a car made by the modern hand of man, I truly felt to be one with the landscape I was driving through. This sense of connectedness existed even though I was not walking through the fields or talking to a leafless tree. It was just a mindset in which I couldn’t help remembering that we are made of the same stuff. And I know we are, biologically, but this was different.

 

It was like I woke up this morning, and the world woke up with me. We were both one and the same.

 

I don’t know. Maybe that feeling can only last for a day or more. Or maybe only ten minutes. Maybe it must come and go in spurts, so my appreciation is never dulled. But I want that feeling to revisit me forever.

2/26/25

Today was very similar to the past two days, minus the dancing and extreme feelings of interconnectedness. 

 

My late afternoon and evening, after I returned home, was spent entirely with people I care about. It was nothing more than a home-cooked meal and a game of Balderdash (it was my first time playing, but I won), but it is this kind of evening that we should all implement more of in our lives.

 

Simple pleasures amongst the company of other human beings will always bring calmness and contentment.

2/27/25

It’s his birthday tomorrow, so I made a cheesecake today. (It’s better when it can set up in the fridge overnight.)

 

I baked it in a dish that belonged to my grandmother. I think they look beautiful together.

2/28/25

We ate at a semi-fancy restaurant tonight. The building has been around since 1762. Because of its many centuries served as a fort, trading post, tavern, and inn, the building is said to be haunted. 

 

I don’t believe in ghosts, but their food is wonderful.

 

After dinner, we ate the cheesecake drizzled with chocolate sauce at his house. A nice, calm celebration between two.

3/1/25

Game night with some family. I ate too many brownies to try and make up for the absence of his arms around me.

3/2/25

Stuff went on. Family, friends, food. Not good or bad. I just can’t psych myself up to write about it.

 

Tomorrow, I will pose as a creative goddess again.

3/4/25

How quickly inspiration dwindles. The days feel the same, and hot tea becomes the only form of comfort. Something to look forward to when arriving home. Something to help decompress.

 

It is hard to be creative when many of your daylight hours are spent catering to the needs of others. There becomes little time for introspection, rumination.

 

Maybe the coming warm weather will change things. The days will be longer and feel warmer, and I’ll be more content with who I am and where I am in life.

3/6/25

Nothing new these past two days. However, after rereading my last entry, I must add that “catering to the needs of others” is not the most draining thing. It is probably tied with small talk and fake smiles.

 

It’s not at all that the people I am in contact with aren’t genuinely kind people. It’s simply that I don’t have the sort of relationship with them that makes conversation a comfortable thing. But I must smile and contribute something in the form of spoken words because, in the end, I still care about making a good impression.

 

If we could all just go about our business as usual without feeling pressured to make friendly but shallow remarks, we’d all be better off. We’d be less stressed and have more time for the important things.