The rest is still unwritten

I really enjoy keeping a journal. I like physically writing down the things that have happened in my life, and then detailing exactly how I feel. Since I'm the only one reading my entries for now, I don't have to censor my thoughts or cater to an audience. Also, writing it, with pen and paper, allows my thoughts to flow a lot more freely. I can't go back and delete a whole sentence, or rearrange a paragraph. Usually, my thoughts and memories are much faster than my pen, but I do the best I can and I'm usually satisfied with the results. When I was on my study abroad in London, and a few other times in my life, I wrote every day. I even remember being so struck by something in an art museum that I sat down, pulled out my journal, and started writing. While I don't get to write every day usually, I'll generally write every few weeks or months. When I go back to read it, I usually read a resolution to write more often in every few entries, which amuses me.

Last night, I wanted to journal something from yesterday. I was horrified to realize that it's been so long since I journaled, that I wasn't even sure which journal I was using. I found the white one that included my London trip, three years ago, but that was full. The silver one by my bed is my scripture journal. The dark blue one was from high school. What was I using!?

Finally, on top of some books in my bookcase, I found my light blue journal that I started in March 2006. The last entry was dated in July 2006 !

I was not pleased with myself and my lack of journal activity. So much has happened in the last year, and it's been an incredible journey worth noting. Luckily, I have almost weekly family letters that discuss the events of my last year, and blog posts that flesh them out a little more. It's better than nothing.

I must, MUST do better. I don't think I'll jump into writing daily, but somewhere between once a day and once a year is a good place to start.