I have been more or less keeping a journal from the time I was in Junior High School. My favorite teacher, Mrs. C gave me a pretty flowered lined paper journal. I didn't really have a clear idea of whether I wanted a "Dear Diary" accounting of my adolescent trials and tribulations, but I did know that I wanted to record some of the things I was going through so I could gain perspective and maybe even a little distance from the chaos of life. It proved to be a calming practice, but leaves around the irritating evidence of one's foibles in acid-free black and white.
I'm not sure why in recent years I only seem to write when I am angry or depressed, for some reason it helps me get the negative emotions out of my head where they rattle around endlessly. Maybe it is the clarity or just the feeling of being justified in my upset even if it is only for an audience of one. I'd like to take a creative writing class, but seem to have every excuse in the book as to why I don't. Reading is my real passion, but I think I have something to say that other's would want to read...guess I need to stop procrastinating.
1 comment:
So glad to see you writing on here again, I missed you. I have always admired your amazing writing. I always cherished the letters I would receive from you through the years. Your prowess with words and ability to share yourself with the reader is a gift. I want to request a signed copy of your future endeavors.
C'est Moi
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