Yeah, me either.
In all seriousness, though, the ugly, dreary, never ending rainy weather (mixed with some other things) has me in the most melancholy mood, inspiring me to examine my life and what I think of it right now. In order to do this I tend to look back on my life as it was and when I want to do that I turn to my journals.
My freshman year of college I began writing in a makeshift journal, this bright orange folder (bottom of that stack!) from H.S. English, the kind with the three prongs? I filled it with notebook paper and began writing just as my senior year of high school ended. Now, seven years later, I have completed twelve journals, spanning six of those seven years, and am working on the thirteenth. However, now that I am no longer in college and don't have the time I once had, it has taken me over a year to get 1/3 of the way through my current journal. There were times where I didn't write for a month or more and then would sit down and write a five page entry, trying my hardest to fill in the blanks. As of today I have decided that this is unacceptable and will hopefully write in my journal at least once every day. But I digress.
Sometimes I really regret bringing out those old journals. There is much that I am ashamed of, as I am sure is true for pretty much anyone. However, I also enjoy them because it is undeniable proof of just how far I've come since I was eighteen. Most of my early journals were all about some boy or another and got somewhat redundant after awhile. I often wrote a list of what I intended to eat that day, what workout I had done, how much weight I had lost (I lost a good ten pounds my freshman year of college, something that made everyone who knew me very worried), how much more I needed to lose, etc, etc etc. There are also some unexpected entries, like the death of my grandmother and, a couple years later, the death of my cousin. I'll find things I had forgotten and other things that caused me to laugh... I am very glad I have those journals. And what's even better is that my handwriting got worse every year so the only person who can really read it is me. :)
What is the point of these journals, you ask?
I am a verbal processor. I have to dwell on things for a long time and write about them and, sometimes, talk about them before coming to any kind of conclusion. Sometimes I have an epiphany. But because I often had no one to discuss these things in my head with I would write about them at length in my journals. Some of these journals were finished in less than six months, notebooks that were twice as thick as the one I'm currently writing in.
Thankfully I have also come a very long way since the folder/notebook journal. Since I was almost always seen writing it became commonplace for people to give me journals for Christmas, my birthday, just because, and so on. I also bought quite a few... I have lots of journals that haven't even been used yet.
So now, having skimmed through some of those old, confusing and silly journals, I will now go write in my current journal. REALLY write, for as long as I can. My brain is so disorganized, but hopefully it won't be once I'm done!
