Writing follows Immortality or Obscurity

8 05 2009

Books and journals kept me sane as a child through young adulthood and I still depend on them as a woman in my early twenties. I still remember my first journal was a typical young girl’s diary, complete with a picture of Belle and the Beast in their evening wear, posed on the front as he dips her towards the ground in a dramatic dance move. It was plastic and I loved the fact that it was Beauty and the Beast-themed, but the best part was the tiny lock and key that came with the purchase. I loved the idea of writing down my thoughts and locking them away…it seemed independent and secret and mature.

I wrote everything in my journals, hitting my writing peak in my junior/senior years of high school when I would collage pictures and quotes onto the covers of those notebooks and write everything in them: poetry, daily happenings, worries about my parents’ divorce, Bible verses…I was a typical teenager expressing my angst in an “artsy” way.

Now, I find it amusing to read through those small journals because they remind me of how far I have come as a person, they remind me of the small everyday revelations that seem fresh and new to a teenager but which fade into the background as more obligations, responsibilities and issues cloud out the small things. It’s nice to relive those experiences and remember the things that once gave me so much joy.

Lately, I have been reading peoples’ blogs…I used to think a blog was too revealing, to desperately open…and I abstained for years from writing in them unless they were poetry, prose or anything unrevealing and shallow. Now, I see them as an opportunity to create rhetoric, to vent, to muse, to ponder.

Blogging, journals, confessions, “crying on someone’s shoulder”: all of these are ways that a person gives into that human condition of being self-centered and self-concerned for a little bit each day. I whole-heartedly support this because I think it’s healthy to think about the choices you make, the paths you have followed, the people you have met, the experiences you have had. Writing has given countless people the chance to matter to someone, at least one reader, who reaches out and reads…

Writing is an attempt to make an impact on someone so at the end of life, someone remembers the words that we said or wrote.

Writing follows immortality or obscurity.

I am 23 years old and still writing in my diary…at least this one doesn’t have a picture of Beauty and the Beast on the front.




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