A 1955 journal was found in a thrift store and I purchased it. The author, unnamed, wrote an entry for every day that year. Entries were kept short and nondescript of any goings-on accept for occasional letters received, noting that shopping was done, or curtains ironed. The weather was most consistently pointed out first in almost every entry. No world events, nor local, were mentioned. Family was not described at any length. Moods were never expressed unless health was quickly noted as "not up to par." Was the world so uneventful? How would this be received in today's mode of journaling? Could there be relief in the bland amidst the sea of hyper responses? Can we cultivate awareness by noting our surroundings however simple? What does it mean for oneself to keep such a record even if just to note that there was "nothing unusual today."