A journal

As a blogger--intermittent as I may be--you must expect that I am an avid journaler.  Provided that is your expectation, you are right.  And yes, I know journaler is not a word.  But journalers can make up their own words.

I relish finishing a journal and starting a new one.  For several reasons.  First off, I love choosing a new journal.  Thick, heavy-duty paper (what can I say, I'm my father's daughter); quite particular size; blank pages, but I'll do small lines if I have to.  And something about the journal that reminds me of me.  It also must make me feel artsy and creative, so I am encouraged to experiment with my thoughts and my writing. (I used to overestimate the creativity those journals endowed me with; I drew pictures.  Fortunate for my pride, I stopped).
Also, there's the simple concept of a fresh, clean, brilliant beginning.  What events will be recorded in this next journal?  What will I learn?  And, most importantly, where will I be when it's been filled?

That's all about starting a journal.  What of finishing it?

That is my favorite part.  As my last entry, I flip through the journal and rewrite key events.  If I'm lucky, I'll find some goals that have been accomplished, or some prayers that have been answered.  I also note the simple entries.  The occasional eloquences or poetic turns of language (in my journals: rare).  I also love to see how something that was once so big has become so small--so small that I no longer remember it.  Or to see traits I once had that have been chipped away by trials or time or maybe even my own awareness and determination.

Documenting our happenings, our musings, our concerns, our epiphanies, our triumphs, our blessings, our minds and hearts, our histories is something that can not be overstated. I need to be better!  Good thing I have a brand new journal to start with.

I don't know why I decided to journal about my journal.  There wasn't really a point.  I guess just a musing