- sleep with my cat
- drive my car with the windows down and my iPod loud
- play the piano
- shop for summer dresses
- see Alice in Wonderland
- hang out with my Mom
- finish some pastel drawings
- watch movies late at night
- go to Barnes and Noble
- play soccer with my niece
- wear ripped jeans
- pack away my winter clothes
- catch up with friends
- get coffee in the city
- etc., etc., etc.
Can’t wait to see you tomorrow morning, Philadelphia. :)
- Lisa: Oh my god, look at my glasses! They're fogging up.
- Sara: Oh my goodness.
- Lisa: Why are they doing that? I'm just sitting in my chair! It's not like I stuck my head in the microwave or something-- that would do it, alright.
It can be so hard to write about your life.
I have a prose piece due for Creative Writing on Tuesday. There are no restrictions, no real regulations. No page requirement, no set topic, no specific elements of craft to be incorporated. AKA, I have free range to say, write, bullshit whatever.
I’ve had a topic in mind since Friday. I’ve actually had this topic in mind for a few months, at least. I’ve had the experience on my mind for 10 years, and for whatever reason, I can’t write it. I have things down on the paper, short little vignettes, but it’s not complete. I need to add more, and rearrange, but I don’t know how.
There are some things that I’ve never told anyone. I want to write about them. I want to weave them into a story, hide them under allusions, make the reader interpret things for themselves. Never give them the real answers. I’m trying so desperately to make this work. I want this piece to be complete.
The past can sometimes come back to haunt you, to mock you. You just have to know how to conquer it.
I keep a specific journal for everything: one for character ideas, one to track books I’ve read, one for mixed media entries, etc. I keep a small one in my purse, and one on my nightstand to jot down dreams. If you need to know anything about me, it’s that I’ve got a pen and paper on me about 9 times out of 10. As a writer, a journal is healing; it’s a space with no boundaries, constraints, or rules, and where unwanted eyes are not necessarily permitted.
I’ve always been apprehensive about keeping a blog. I’m a fan of the traditional journal; I appreciate the smell of blank pages and the stain of wet ink. The digital realm hadn’t hit me for quite some time. And besides, who’d want to read about my day to day? Wouldn’t you all get bored with that by the second post?
Then it occurred to me: what if I could convey some of what my traditional journals hold without revealing all the goods? What if I gave you a small glimpse into those private places without scanning pages, recreating design, etc. A digital notebook, so to speak.
So this is an experiment. We’ll see how long it lasts.