The lack of dates is just my speed. When I was home over the summer I entertained my parents by reading to them from my (copious) childhood diaries. In one from when I was nine, I began: “Let me get one thing straight. Dates mean NOTHING to me! For example, it says today is Jan. 1. BUT IT’S NOT. It’s [some date in spring]. And do I care? NO.”
What a wonderful idea. When I was a kid, I found diaries daunting because there were days I wouldn’t write anything because I didn’t think there were any events worth writing about. Then I would feel guilty about not writing in it every day. So I would just stop writing anything at all.
I even had a Judy Blume diary at one point! I probably wrote in it twice.
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