Journaling

I bought a journal tonight. I’ve known that I needed to journal more, but I just kept putting it off. And some might consider blogging to be journaling, but it’s not the same. Believe it or not, there are some things that I won’t say to just anyone. And even though I write some things that I don’t post, it’s usually because I’m not happy with how it’s worded or how uneffectively I made my point.

So I bought a journal. It’s pretty nice. It’s made of wood. That’s right. Wood. Not a hardback. Actually, now that I think about it, it’s probably not real wood but it sure looks like it. After I bought it I sat in the little café area of Borders and made my first entry. Nothing profound or life altering. But give me time. I’ll get there.

Journaling is supposed to be good for you. Like writing about yourself helps you learn and grow. That’s sort of strange. I guess part of the reason it helps is because it actually makes you think about things long enough to figure out the words to express them and then write those words down. Leads to self-realization. It’s funny because I’m very into having an accurate and complete perception of myself, so it’s a wonder I haven’t taken this more seriously in the past.

If I discover anything you may find interesting, I’ll let you know.