Dec. 27th, 2012

aleahkate: (Default)
So I have about 50 journals. No, I don't mean online ones. I mean the real ones, the ones that are actually blank books. I could write a novel in one but I don't. They represent so much to me! I view touching the pen to one without a masterpiece in mind as fatal to the gold lined pages. I know it's wrong and that I shouldn't care because it's just a book but I keep dreaming, waiting and hoping that one day I will struck with an awe inspiring idea. It's been years and I've added more journals to my collection but most still remain empty, void of any stories or poems. I purchase a new one and think "Maybe this cover will inspire me to write again!" but more often than not I find it empty again, collecting dust on my shelf.

I'm an okay writer, I consider myself one that needs to spend more time honing and studying my art. I've let many excuses hinder me. A main one is technology. I don't have to think too much when I know I only have 140 characters on Twitter, a limited amount of status space on Facebook or a certain amount that I know my online friends can process. I could write a long story on here but it would only cause people to delete me because no one has the time to sit down and read a story...especially if it has the potential to be boring. I feel connected with online journaling and I am beginning to view the old fashioned way of journaling as *GASP* antique. I just don't feel connected to my writing when I'm not writing to an audience anymore.

A long time ago, I viewed my book as one of my only friends, someone -- or something I could talk to, get my opinions out and feel better when I dotted the period with my special pen. Now when I hit the period button and hit "Post Entry" I almost feel electrifying chills knowing it can be sent, kindly critiqued and read in feeling by the whole entire world. It's a more improved feeling than feeling confined to a blank book. However journals will always be a back up. I need to make it a back up. God only knows what could happen to websites. Who knows? LiveJournal might shut down one day. Hostess lasted decades but it still shut down so we never know. It's a comfort knowing that I ever set my mind to it, I will have written things in my diaries and be able to one day touch my crisp pages. I'll be able to hear my (fake) leather cover crack open and be transported back to a self and time I'll never be able to go back to again. It's not terrible being a blogger, Tweeter or a Facebooker but whether we realize it or not it does hinder a certain part of the writer in us. I'm guessing one day I'll let my pen flow again in addition to all this but not until I meet courage head on and face it. I know I will have to write in a lingering silence that will only tell me a little something of the truth.

April 2015

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