Okay so I have recently convinced myself to start writing everyday, and last night I randomly wrote a stream of conscientiousness session without any previous dwelling. Hopefully I will always have the guts to post these and continue to learn from my own thoughts.
I don’t know how to write, but tonight I will learn. Since I was 15 I have known that writing is a part of me, even though all this time I have thought I sucked at it. I love writing essays, blog posts, book reviews and I have even written poems (just 1 actually). Lately I have been jealous thinking about all the writers that get to write all day and learn something after every page. The last week and a half I have been giddy with the thought of starting a new phase in my writing experience, actually writing! Usually I get 1 or 2 blog posts in a semester, both usually being an essay I wrote for class or a simple post stating that I will be write more this semester, but it never happens. So, I finally decided that I have earned the luxury to write continuously and post as much as possible. I’m a student, I have a crappy job, I have a boyfriend and family that wants to see me as much as possible, and all considering I can write in this journal and allow my hand to cramp around this pen that hasn’t touched paper in an unknowable amount of time. This pen sits in a case of with other old pens, pencils, highlighters and paper clips next to my bed on my coffee table that sits there for any spontaneity of writing that may come as I lay in bed absent-mindedly. Maybe this time I don’t sit here absent-mindedly and maybe something useful will come out of this pen’s production purpose, other that the chicken scratch on this piece of paper. I feel that if I keep this pen placed on the paper then maybe I won’t get distracted by something else and stop writing, and I will get to keep talking to you as I always want to. I think that by now at age 21 I should have filled 100 of these journals up with words like these, but I am humored as this journal is about as old as my writing career, with at least half of it still standing. This morning when I woke up I decided that today was the day I picked out a journal to start this episode of conscientious in, and today at work I decided I should spend my night studying for my finals this week. When I got home I dug through my box of school supplies looking for a journal to begin writing notes down in for school and came across this one, half empty. Then I picked up this pen, not wanting to open a new one, and am sitting here dying of thirst because I can’t get up to get something to drink with the pen still stuck to this paper. Earlier in the week I thought about how fun it would be to go shopping for cute notebooks and pretty new pens, but I think I will keep writing in my half empty journals with my half empty pens and enjoy the reminiscence about days that I wrote and stopped for months, producing these sad stationary stationaries. I just wrote for 30 minutes and don’t know how I really got here. May 3, 2016. 11:54 pm.