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Journal Evolution

September 15, 2011

I used to suck at journaling. Really. I used to be borderline neurotic about the whole thing, it started in high school and lasted my entire college existence. I wanted to write, to put these profound thoughts of mine *har har* onto paper. Share my feelings and/or sketches in my super fabulous journals. I have had really nice journals throughout the years, too. Sparkly, leather, embroidered, recycled – oh the shame – they all ended up with the pages ripped out. I never was able to get those words to stay. Why, you ask? Well, perhaps because I’ve always been a bit hung up on the way things look – until now. I mean kind of until now, I still like fancy looking things, but content wins every time these days – er – almost every time. Ok, i admit it, I’m a sucker for packaging.

Back to my poor journals in the journal graveyard. I threw them out, they always ended up just a shell of a journal with no content because I would write and if my penmanship wasn’t perfect, i would rip out the page. I crumpled those thoughts of mine and lost them forever, not because the content sucked. No, I trashed those pages because of the way my handwriting looked, just so sad. Ha! Then I’d try to recreate the page and get frustrated when it didn’t look just right and blamo, next thing I knew the journal would be empty.

As I got older and wiser, well, my journaling evolved. Now I just write and scribble and it looks like a mess, but it’s mine. My words, my scribbles, my mess – my beautiful mess.

The pigsty of my journals.
*snort – snort – snort*

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