They must keep diaries, Adams told them as once he had told their father. Without a diary, their travels would "be no better than a flight of birds through the air," leaving no trace. (617)

This diary project has lost its momentum in the past couple weeks and that is something that saddens me. I want to leave traces in the air. I feel somehow more alive when I am able to be conscious (perhaps overly so) of my day to day activities, when I am able to shape those into an arc, and perhaps change the outcome of this plotline, or can rewrite it in a more beautiful fashion, squeezing significance from otherwise insignificant activities, people.

But it's also a good thing that is has lost steam. It has done so because I am finally occupying enough of my time so that I don't have time to sit in front of this computer and pick at scabs. I love picking those scabs and think there is a lot to be gained from that, but I rarely feel like writing before work because my roommates are still asleep at that point and I don't want to wake them (even more than I already do) by typing away gleefully outside their bedroom door. And once I get home from work, my eyes don't feel like looking at any more computer screens for a while and so I eat and lie around and read and watch movies, and I am reading a lot, and feeling a lot, feeling different about my life than I have perhaps ever. I am feeling some new state of content, feeling more adult in some ways (whatever that means), and feeling more and more comfortable in my skin. I would like to talk about these changes more in depth, that that is what this diary project is about, is documenting these changes, by naming them, making them. This Edenic connection between the naming of something and its having meaning, being.