Diaries, diarizing and the happily 'un-diarized'
These are diary days. Calendar days too. All institutions, big and
small, private and public, are busy getting diaries out. It is probably
considered a serious come down for a self-respecting corporate entity
not to print diaries for distribution among clients, employees,
politicians and friends, corporate and otherwise. The diary bug seems to
have stung the SME sector as well. Everyone seems to feel a dire need to
print a diary, even a pocketsize one. Calendars too.
These are also diary-asking days. The cleaning lady wants one. Three
wheel drivers, corner-shop mudalalis, garbage collectors, policemen,
teachers and other everyday people in your life wants one, have you
noticed? Years ago I wrote a short note on diaries. It was titled 'Diary
days' and appeared in the Island newspaper. I was amazed by the diary
mania that invariably engulfs Sri Lanka in late December and lasts until
mid January. Here's a paragraph from that piece:
'But people are obsessed with diaries. They do not want a diary. They
want many diaries. I've never figured that one out, so this time I
actually asked the question, "what for?" Followed by the explanation
soliciting, "do you have so many appointments that you have to keep
track of them for fear of forgetting?" and "do you record everything you
do?" I know of at least one person who diligently did. Chula Unamboowe,
my friend Bradley's father, who insisted on maintaining a record of
everything he did, everyone he met, everything purchased and so on. But
none of these diary-seekers were anything like Uncle Chula. Diarizing
was not what they did. Some I am sure have not written anything down in
years.'
Appointment-less days
This was in December 2003. Seven years later, nothing has changed
diary-wise. Diaries, I observed, were made for recycling. The
three-wheel driver wants to give one to the owner of the vehicle who
passes it to his/her child's class teacher, who in turn gifts it to the
Grama Niladhari and so on. For what purpose, I asked then. I still don't
have an answer outside of being noticed, being counted. This time
around, however, I have a different set of questions to ask.
What happened on appointment-less days? Why were some appointments
marked and some not? Were the unmarked appointments missed? Do blank
pages of dairies used for jotting down observations indicate un-lived
days? Do people count the number of blank days at the end of the year?
Do blank pages view the inked ones with envy or vice versa? What are
un-inked days like? Are they made of things neglected, erased memories
and absences, given and received? Do inked pages object to being linked
with the un-inked if diaries are recycled? Do recycled appointments
yield more fruitful conversations? Do diary-gifters trace the pathways
that gifted diaries take and do they visit them at their final resting
place? If they do, would they observe a minute's silence out of respect
for distance travelled or guffaw uncontrollably at the utter
ridiculousness of diarizing?
National diary-wastage
I wonder if anyone has calculated overall national diary-wastage. I
wonder if people wonder about the number of trees that are transformed
into empty pages that do nothing for 'diarizer'. On a more serious note,
what do people make of 'blank days'? And what do blank days do with
people or themselves and one another? In blank-worlds are expressions
necessarily blank and do kisses cross each other out into happy
oblivion?
There are days waiting to be written. Lived. Loved. Days that stand
on their own, with or without diary, appointment and observation. What
kind of 2011 have you planned, I wonder. Mine will be diary-less as has
been the case for many years. Perhaps I've not lived if inking a diary
or using the information therein are considered preconditions to be
counted among the living. Perhaps others are never sure if their 'today'
is a Monday or a Saturday, whether it is the 14th or the 27th and
therefore find diaries useful. As for me, I have decided that I will
spend the rest of my life in an eternal Tuesday, happily 'un-diarized'.
[email protected]
|