18 Years of Journals

Seriously guys and gals, I’ve been pretty M.I.A. on this site due to well…life. Also to be quite real with you, I’ve been in a dry spell of inspiration because I’ve been focused on the “technical” part of my brain. For that, I truly am sorry. In hindsight, I’m back and I am working on being a bit more consistent regardless of the series of impending projects, travel, and professional commitments. The truth is….I need you guys. I need all of you talented, sublime fellow writers. You, believe it or not give me this invisible sense of accountability when it comes to writing. And we all know that forming sentences isn’t rocket science, but forming the right scene is damn near close to ANY science. Trust me I know, I’m into science professionally speaking. So before you get all freaked out by this rather saccharine filled confessional let me continue.

So after my uncle’s death 2 years ago, my mother decided to do this massive cleaning of her apartment. Just throwing things out, things that didn’t have any form of sentimental or monetary value. This is after 15 years of living there. Of course through the cleaning I compiled all my jottings and scrap books that were my “journals” from age 16. It was wild. I brought the entire box back to my apartment and just looked at it. No, wait I genuinely stared at it. I didn’t know what to do. Do I throw stuff out WITHOUT attempting to read it? I took a deep breath and reluctantly sat down to walk through the mind of a teenager. What I can say is this, although I’m still going through the many shapes and sizes of journals; it has become more of a revelation into the growth and escapism from the damages of consistent struggle, and finding beauty while in it. Maybe that’s why I’m obsessed with beautiful photos, scenes, words, and places. I guess I found my way again through reading who I was, and what I am currently capable, and what those times gave me. PERSISTENCE. I’m not trying to sound like a self-help book, but seriously if you ever get a chance and can find old journals; dust it off and read it. Speaking of reading, amidst the jungle I found some shorts that I will be refining and sharing with you. They don’t make proper sense but then again does everything have to make sense ALL the time?