I just finished reading DOP's entry about giving her daughter a diary. I can't help but reminisce. Back then when I was 10 or 11 I had my first diary. "Diary", yes, as opposed to "journal", diary seems so young, cute and full of dreams. I remember, mine was blue and had a pink lock to secure it. I have skimmed through it more than once. And every time I read it I can't help but be amazed. It's magical how that little notebook gives a peek on how an 10 (or 11) year old me dealt with life. How my little problems seemed so big then, how I fussed over things, how I defined friendship and love... everything was frozen in time and free for me to experience over and over.
And one diary lead to another, and another. My Diary not long after became a Journal. Ideas, frustrations, craziness filled every page. There were times that I would just sit in one corner and write about all the things that flutter in my head. I wrote everywhere. In our garden, in my old university's lobby, the old hallway,... everywhere where something bothers me, I write. A lot of the thoughts are things that I do not have the courage to say, some are ideas that are too progressive, and some were possibilities that were then waiting to happen. It was fun writing. This will sound so romantic but it is like I'm pouring a piece of me on that piece of paper. A picture captures a moment, but a journal entry captures the soul when it is sad, happy, or mad.
But the larger reason why I wrote before is to keep myself sane. I wrote to organize my thoughts when my mind is a clutter. Writing helped me a lot when emotion was getting the best of me. It was also a creative outlet. Those diaries and journals, in a way, were friends that were there for me through these years. I think every little girl (or boy maybe) should have a diary just like me before and DOP's daughter. Really. Even just a little notebook. It doesn't even have to be fancy.
If you're going to ask if I have a journal right now, I don't. All I have is this blog. Life right now prevents me from being reflective. I miss it though. Also, I miss writing on paper. Recycled paper to be exact. My later journals are always made of recycled material from Papemelroti. Maybe, I'll go back to the tradition again. Someday.
Aww, I remember I used to have a diary too but since Joyce and I share the same room, she always manage to find and read it and tell my mom what I wrote. I remember writing about my crush, I did "flames" on both our names and she did tell my mom. Lol.
ReplyDeleteI too want to go back but being my anal self I'll need a spring notebook, that way I can just tear the page if I misspell something or write something wrong.
Ooops, sorry for writing a mini-blog here. ;)