Casey Recommends: Keeping a Five-Year Diary

Not as high-stakes as it sounds!

On January 30, 2023, the day after I rode a roller coaster in the middle of an art museum¹, I decided to commit to a five-year diary.

I’d been eyeing it up in the MASS MoCA gift shop² for, oh, like three visits prior, and it felt a bit daunting to buy something that came with such long-term relationship expectations.

But I’m a girl who masochistically kind of loves a repetitive challenge, so I dove in.

The book is small — about 3 1/2 by 6/12 inches, almost the size of a photograph — so it fits easily in my nightstand drawer. And every night, I climb into bed, write a few sentences on the six lines provided, then rinse and repeat the following evening.

I’m not going to lie: There are some days I want to write BLANK VOIDS HAPPENED TODAY because my life seems so excruciatingly bland. Wake up. Meditate. Work out. Put in my hours at the Quiet Job. Come home. Make dinner. Watch TV with cats.

But, as I keep reminding myself, the magic happens in the cracks of everyday life, and it will sparkle and bubble up if you keep an eye out for it.

So in the second year, when I was able to read the previous year’s entry for each day and see what felt worthy of inclusion — THAT is when the magic of the diary revealed itself.

The hilarity! Such gems!

Sure, it’s awesome to look back on moments like when we helped a friend liberate a 1980s Pac-Man arcade game from her sister-in-law’s house and move it to a safe location. Or June 6, 2023, AKA “the day Casey became bougie,” when we upgraded to a sweet little cabin on our New River Gorge road trip to avoid camping in a downpour.

But it’s almost even better to read the mundane details like when Dan bought a two-pound brick of Velveeta for Super Bowl queso (and how long it took me to use it all up in various meals) or when we noticed that they finally demolished the old movie theater along the Garden State Parkway that sat abandoned for like 15 years.

Now that I’m in my third year of the diary, it’s even funnier to watch the accumulation of memories big and small, and, yes, even see some character growth and evolution in there. I’m so glad I wrote down the time when I saw a dude in Petco with an actual trash panda perched on his shoulder like a parrot. And even gladder I’ll be able to read about it again next year.

And now I’m actively looking forward to my next five-year diary, which I won’t be able to start until January 30, 2028. Will the world even be around then? Who knows?

Keeping a five-year-diary, in the end, is a lot less high-stakes than I feared, and a lot more illuminating than I imagined. It takes up less space than a photo album, is blissfully analog, and feels meaningful and low-thought at the same time.

So if you’re looking for a way to record daily memories and feelings without (ugh) gratitude journaling or committing to Artist’s Way morning pages, a five-year-diary might be the ticket for you too.

If you try it, tell me how it goes! (In a year, of course.)

1. Oh, you know that piqued your interest. It was part of the “Brake Run Helix” installation by EJ Hill at MASS MoCA and you bet I have a video.

2. This particular version is designed by Tamara Shopsin and while you can find it in a number of online stores, I of course want to support the arts instead of big faceless corporate retailers.