For years I have tried and ultimately failed to keep a journal. Repeated attempts at beginning one have always met with what can only be called immediate doom…although I may have been successful for a few days or even a few weeks on several occasions, the life I tried desperately to record in said journal always managed to get in the way. And now a lovely stack of those failed attempts sits on a shelf in the closet reminding me of the many missed opportunities and all of life’s “stuff” that will never be recorded.
Thankfully my memory is quite stellar & i possess a knack for remembering the most random of details, thus I will not waste my time on past regrets. Instead, I’ve decided to begin this blog, something I should have done years ago.
Perhaps one of the key reasons I never quite grasped the art of journaling is my OCD-like tendency to want each word and sentence to be perfect–perfect indentation, perfect spacing, perfect handwriting. A sentence that takes two seconds to type out on a keyboard would take five times longer to do by hand if my hand were the one writing it. Yes, it’s quite obvious I was made to type (although a sweet handwritten note is still one of my favorite things).
So here I am with my eyes wide open…my heart and my mind, too.
What will become of this blog is really anybody’s guess, but for now, here goes nothing…