I came across an old journal of mine from when I was living in Oxford about 10 years ago.
It made for an entertaining read. Funny how so many themes in my life seem to repeat themselves.
It's interesting to consider what advice I'd give young Keith if I could talk to him. He seems so unsure of his place in the world - where his life should be going, what he should be doing. I guess I'd tell him that he has quite a few interesting times ahead of him and maybe not to worry so much. Life is about the journey and no one's life takes place on a paved highway - they are all country roads - dirty and bumpy and never really going in a straight line.
And really, aren't those roads the most interesting to travel?
I found an old Steven King quote in that journal that I still like today.
The most important things are the hardest to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them - words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they're brought out.
But it's more than that, isn't it?
The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you've said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it.
That's the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for want of a teller but for want of an understanding ear.