In Journals

Yesterday’s post took it out of me. I wrote two different versions and wound up splicing them together and I’m still not sure it says everything I wanted it to, but at a certain point I just had to post it and move on. I worked a lot of it out as I was writing… in fact most of the post happened from the act of writing and not from some original idea. The act of writing was the act of figuring out why. Useful, huh? Kind of like a journal, I would imagine.

It’s Sunday, so here’s a chocolate church!

Side note: I could never keep a journal growing up. The first time I moved out I had to force myself to part with a closet full of notebooks and diaries in which I’d made maybe two entries each.

The closest I ever came to completing a journal was a small, blue, paper-covered notebook that a former friend gave to me. I used to carry it everywhere and journal every time I arrived somewhere early, or found out everyone else was going to be late, which was (and still is) often. But I stopped carrying it around and now I write those things on the notes app of my phone.

Of course, treating these posts as digital journal entries means being open to writing crap just to get it out of the way. Sometimes I re-read what I wrote the previous day and it’s awful; pretentious, overly self-indulgent, and pointless (I took out over half of this original post for similar reasons). I don’t ditch that stuff, though. I take it as something that had to be gotten out to get to something more interesting, and I paste it all into a document called “Windshield Writings,” where I’ll write first thing in the morning, dream journal, or just write around whatever has been taking up real estate in my head until it becomes thoroughly uninteresting to me. The idea is this is the stuff that had to be wiped from my mental windshield before I could see what was really waiting to be written.

I thought about posting some of it as an example, but if it’s in there, there’s a good reason I cut it. As a psych professor once told me: there’s nothing more boring to us as human beings than someone else’s dreams. What I might end up doing is taking some choice words from the document, once it’s built up more, and turn it into something creative. Oops! Gotta run! Happy Sunday!