If a tree falls in the middle of the woods, does it make a sound

I don’t know exactly how that philosophical question goes and don’t feel like looking it up at the moment. I’m going to try to make this post as brief as possible, with some lengthy philosophical follow-up, perhaps, at a later date.

Volume I of My Journal may be permanently lost. Volume I is the yellow spiral-bound notebook I started on Februrary 22, 1989. It chronicles a few awful months of junior high. I recently though I’d convert it into a blog, so it would finally be out there. I’ve feared for the last 20 years that something would happen to my handwritten journals. If I lost them, proof of anything I chronicled would be lost with them. It would be devastating.

It does suck to a degree I don’t imagine many people can grasp.

I later decided a regularly-updated blog of the journal was a bad idea, but I recently stuck the notebook in my laptop bag. I figured, if I had no better idea of how to kill time at dialysis or elsewhere, transcribing the journal wouldn’t be the worst way to kill time. At least I’d have it all in permanent digital form, whether I shared it or not.

Now, it appears it’s gone. If I had left it at dialysis, one tech told me, “[the cleaning crew] probably would’ve thrown it out”. I’m pretty cynical, but even I was shocked that someone else would have such blatant disregard for someone’s property. They don’t need to know it was a 21-year-old recording of a personal history. But it was my someone’s stuff. Now it’s probably in a landfill. There are some pretty easy self-deprecating follow-ups lines to that. I’ll refrain for now.

I’ve got other things I’ve got to do at the moment…needed to vent about this and move on…