Thursday, January 10, 2013

Recording and Sharing My Life

From May 31, 2005 to April 3, 2012 I recorded my thoughts into a journal, which was made up of three black composition notebooks.

I didn't mean to stop, it just sort of happened, and when I realized it had been a while since I wrote I decided not to worry about it.
I didn't write in it regularly, you see, but only when it struck me that I had something to say or record. As life went on I realized that I had less to record or less ambition to record it, so near the end the gaps between dates in the journal got larger and larger.

I never really intended on keeping a journal. It just sort of happened. I was sitting in the classroom on the last day of 8th grade, looking around the room at the faces of all the people I'd spent almost a decade growing up with, wondering if I'd ever see them again. "Will they remember me?" I wrote.
I always thought it was poetic that I began my journal at the very end of the first phase of my life. The world of being a teenager awaited me, and I was already sensing the roller-coaster to come, especially since I knew that I was going to a high school with none of my friends.

I got hooked on writing my feelings and thoughts. Looking back on it, it makes perfect sense. I was going through a difficult time in my life full of puberty and all the internal and external drama that comes with it. I recorded my rebellious thoughts of distaste towards my parents, my insecurities as an awkward teen boy with acne, the time I got braces, the times I hung out with my new friends, and how it felt when I started dating my fiancée.
Keeping a journal was a form of therapy. A way of talking through my issues. No matter how small or embarrassing some of them seem now, I know they were important to me at the time.

Sure, life still has it's drama, but it's a different kind of drama. It's adult drama. Instead of worrying whether or not anyone could ever love me, now I'm worrying about getting a job and supporting the woman I love.

A part of the reason that I gave up on keeping the journal, I suppose, is that I've got this blog. And while I use it mostly to record announcements and thoughts about my writing, there are times (like this) that I love using it to detail some more personal aspects of my life. Sure, I don't feel comfortable blogging about some of the more private matters, but there are so many things I feel that I can share with those willing to read.

I've got several blank pages left in my last composition notebook, and the drama of graduating college is coming. I think I'll go back and finish it up.

What can I say? I'm a sucker for memories and I'm a sucker for inspiration in the form of real lives.

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