"If you're gonna spew..."

Nope, not a post about hurling. For the purposes of this discussion, "spew" = "journaling". There's more of a story, but you'll need to ask Dejo about that.

I just finished reading the final entry of the "Holy Book of Spew", which is an account of the travels of one really cute blond boy (IMHO), and his friends through Europe. Because Dejo was so dedicated in his descriptions of their adventures, I was able to travel along, nearly 20 years later. I wish I could say I've always been that good about journaling, myself.

I've been fortunate enough to travel quite a lot in my life thus far, including several trips to Europe, starting when I was nearly 11. I kept a small journal of our travels (at my Dad's suggestion, I believe -- good call!), but clearly hadn't yet realized the value of putting in any detail. For example, here's my entry from the day we visited Westminster Abbey in London:

Monday August 6

Mom & I went to Westminster Abbey. I stood on the burial places of Dickens, Kipling & Hardy. Mom & I rode the 2-decker bus.

Exciting, no? Can't you just feel the bustle of the city, the awe of being in a place saturated with as much history as Westminster is? Yeah, neither can I.

Thankfully, I've gotten a little better as the years have gone on. I tried to find the journal that I know I kept when I was in Europe the summer I turned 16. I'd love to see how descriptive I was in that one -- not only about the sights we saw, but my general feelings of the day. I think I was more or less a pain in the ass, being a 15-year-old who really didn't see the value in being in Europe if it meant she had to be with her parents the whole time.

Specifically, I'd like to read my account of the day that we went to the Olympic ice rink in Salzburg. I remember that we went ice-skating, and I somehow got into a conversation with a few handsome young men, who turned out to be recent recruits in the Austrian army. We each tested our ability to speak the other's language (them with more success), and eventually, they invited me to join them that evening at a party. I recall thinking my father was terribly unreasonable for not letting me go -- after all, they'd invited the whole family, but if they didn't want to go, why shouldn't I be able to? In retrospect, not letting his 15-year-old daughter go party with 18-year-old Austrian Army guys was one of my Dad's wiser decisions.

I've kept a journal of most of my major trips since then. It sure helps in remembering what actually happened, instead of letting my brain tweak the details. But I'll not be publishing mine, as Dejo has done. Nope, the difference between "Spew" and "Writing It Down So I Don't Forget" is that only one is available for your perusal.

'Scuse me, I've gotta go lock away some journals.