The observed life

There are many things I don't do enough of and some I do way too much of. Lately, reading and writing have fallen dismally low on my list.
However, I suppose Christmas vacation is the perfect time to catch up on all those things.
I'm reading a book right now about several characters, some perfect strangers, who live alongside one another. One of the characters lives a quiet life. He has a relationship with one human, the neighbor who lives above him. He fears he will live the unobserved life. That all things and memories from his life will be lost to oblivion when he reaches death.
For some reason that thought stuck with me. Why? I do not worry about living a life alone, void of friendships and beautiful relationships, but perhaps its more my memory, or lack there of, that I worry about.
Once upon a time I was an obsessive journaler, documenting every small detail of my day. Today I write notes here and there, that so often end up in trashcans or in stacked up post-it note piles. I know I love life, but I don't often take the time to write stories of my day.

Mission: Document more life.