Today after hitting the gym [Is anyone else's New Year's Resolutions kicking them in the buns?], I had some extra time on my hands. Grahm wasn't going to be home for a while, so I didn't need to be ready for date night just yet.
Instead, I decided to do some journaling. The old-fashion form of blogging, where I am the only "follower."
I used to be really diligent at putting pen to paper and recording my thoughts, however frivolous they may be. There is a dusty cardboard box in my old room at my parents' house that holds eight bound books brimming with my carefully written ideas, emotions, hopes, etc.
There's something about reading your words from so long ago. It's more than an old facebook status or an ancient blog post. It's more real, more personal. My first one was from age ten, when my only aim in life was to be a famous singer. And my last one is filled with prayers from a heartbroken girl who was angry at God.
Life happens. We change. Our URLs disappear. But our words will forever be written down. In an age where everything and anything is electronic and fast, I think there is something beautifully simple about journaling. Simplicity at its finest.
And I, for one, don't want to give it up.
How about you? Ever journal?