One of my many fetishes are journals. I literally have journals/notebooks/sketch books for daaaaaaays! (Just ask my husband -he's forever cracking jokes on me saying, "Why don't you just go write it down in one of your journals...". Annoying.) For me, the idea of getting a brand new book with blank pages, putting my own words into it, and creating something that becomes a piece of me that can last longer than my physical existence captivates me. I know, it's an ....odd impulse. I don't really know why I do it...I've done it ever since I was a child. Now that I think about it, maybe it's because it helps organize and clear my thoughts. My mind is constantly racing with thoughts...ideas...memories... And I guess, in a sense, it's my way of leaving a tangible mark in this world and for my posterity that says, "HAVEN WAS HERE" -like what you use to see engraved inside slides at the playground, but hopefully to a far more influential degree.
I literally have a huge storage box filled to the top with old, used journals. Sometimes I go back and read through them and have a good laugh because some of the things I wrote about sound so stupid now (but of course at the time it didn't.) But it's always interesting to see how I've grown and changed after reading through some entries. From a day to day perspective, life's routines don't seem to change all that much, but when you keep a journal, you discover how big those daily, subtle changes have become.
Last month I finally finished another journal from cover to cover (3 years work!) and started a brand new one (on right) just in time for the new year.
But my newest journal that I'm loving the most (Like I said, I have journals for days!) is the one I started for my son. Each entry in it is like a mini-letter from me to him of funny things he's done, thoughts I have about him, and my hopes/dreams for him. I know one day he'll appreciate it. I decided I'm going to do a journal like this for each one of my future babies.
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