I've been journaling since I was seven years old — probably since I was old enough to write, "Dear Diary." My first diary wasn't even my own. . . I'm pretty sure it was my brother's, and he had gotten it as a free gift when my mom bought him something else from Scholastic Book Orders. Do any kids from the 90's know what I'm talking about? You know, those paper catalogs filled with useless books that came with a free charm or a rubber frog that accompanied a booklet about amphibians? Of course, how could you forget the day that your orders actually came in!? You would walk into class, and lo, a stack of books would be on your desk — packaged in shrink wrap plastic. There really isn't anything better than the smell of the freshly crisp pages of a paperback.
Anyway, I'm sure that when I'm eighty or something, I'll have a room in my home solely dedicated to the storage of my journals. It will be a national archive once I'm dead, of all the girls I've gossiped about and hated, and all of my deepest, darkest, hygeinic secrets. (Okay, I'll tell you now, I don't actually bathe everyday, but honestly, I don't sweat that much, and ultimately I conserve water, don't I? Don't give me that look, I'm sure you've some gross habits too) In reality, I write about much more than personal vendettas and bathing habits. . . this was, of course, a recent transition (last year).
I must be on my 12th or 13th journal.
I don't know what it is about writing that soothes my nerves.
Sometimes I just need to get lost in my thoughts and organize them.
On the Race, journaling time has been my sacred portal to sanity.
My journal is a place where I'm able to talk with Dad, write down prayers, frustrations, revelations, and it's always fun to go back and see how many of my prayers that He answers. Before I came on the Race, my search for the perfect journal wasn't an easy one, but love at first sight occurred when I finally found it. With a canvassed hardback cover, and thickly bonded blank pages, it was perfect for artwork, memento gathering, and writing. I love it. If I had to choose three items in my pack to save in a devastating and uncontrollable fire, I would save. . .
My journal
My Bible
& my laptop.
I brought a palette of Crayola watercolors and a brush as well, to satiate any artistic urge I may have. For this post, I wanted to share with you some of what I've done (so far) between the pages of my mind. Hope you enjoy.
