On Reflection

I just wrote the following in my journal:

You can’t get anywhere new without
knowing where you you’ve been.

I have been wondering lately what my intent is with my
journaling. I started it foremost because I enjoy *the act*
of writing as much as writing itself – the “act” here being
putting pen to paper. I love the scratch of the pen (though
that is a sign of a mediocre pen or paper) on paper. I love
getting ink on my fingers (though not on my nice, new table
which i also did this morning).

Is that my intent? Am I doing it, paper journaling,
for the sensory experience? *Is that enough*? Journaling
is intended as a way of capturing the past, of seeing the delta between Old You and Today You.

And i bristle at that, bristle at the idea of reading
about who I was. I have spent most of my life running from
who I was, trying to forget who I was for the better me of
Today. So when I think to reread all the things I’ve written,
I get a little sick.

All I see are the mistakes of the past and none of the growth that accompanies it. It is as if acknowledgXXXing
who I was is a failure in itself. This is despite noXlonger seeing myself as a failure; rather, I think the last
decade has beenX pretty spectacular for me.

Something about acknowledging who I was negates who
I *am* in my head. I dealt with years of psychological
abuse at the hands of my brothers who would bring up
things that had happened years ago in order to manip-
ulate me into doing things i didn’t want to do for fear
they woukd tell my parents (in retrospect, it was exceed-
ingly stupid stuff). Or my friends threatening to do
similar with my teachers.

I suffered immensely at the hand if my past. Re-reading
that is to relive it, invoke that shame and disgust. And
it is hard to get past that.


But I recognize that these are the things that have
shaped me. They no longer *define* me. Yesterday is not
today and I am not things I feXlt or did in the past.

There isn’t anything wrong with making mistakes or
feeling shame or being immature. There is only failure
in ignoring who you Were and what got you to Today.

That was the final passage I wrote today and it is true:

Today is not Yesterday is not xTomorrow.
Not looking back gives you an ill-informed

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Caring about blogging?

It has been about 3 months since I started hand writing my
journal. Since then I have more or less ignored my blogs
and websites. I feel like I should care a great deal more than
I actually do insofar as writing/blogging has been the only
way to keep people informed about my life. I don’t exactly go
out much – I am King Introvert, Ruler of the Kitchen Table.

    I have been (XXmostly) enjoying writing by hand.
    Mostly in that:
  1. The experience is tactile.
  2. Fountain pens are lovely to write with, as is nice ink
  3. It is more engaging than because of the above.
  1. I rarely write about more than how I’m feeling.
  2. I never transcribe Xany of it (for better or worse)
  3. My hand writing is pretty bad even though I’ve been wo-
    rking on it these three months too. I’m not sure I’ll be ab-
    le to read what I’ve written in a few months…. (for better
    or worse)

So, what do you do? I feel like there is a gap. Blogging used
to be about both me AND you, a dialogue of some sort or at
least an agreement that someone else knew what I was doing.

I think that’s what I miss, the occasional social engagement.
At least miss the most. Takckling larger topics is good even
if they’re only of personal interest.

And, sitting here, I’m finding writing this about as engagXing
as writing by hand. I’m using Hanx Writer, which is an app
designXXed to mimic writing on a typewriter in sound and
function – I think I may even leave the X typXeovers if I
publish this…

Maybe there’s something to banging out jouranal entries on
this thing and not just writing on paper.

Then what do you do with the paper journal?

And how long until you lament lack of comments? You are an
attention whore after all!

-Written in HanXWriter

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