2:33am: An insomniac’s thoughts on journals

I used to write in a journal. Like an actual, physical journal. There were many journals over the years, since I was in the first grade I believe, but I stopped writing in journals about two-thirds through my nineteen months in Japan–I can confirm this because I’ve been unpacking my room in LA, back to its former state before I left for the summer and got a subletter and had to put everything into a box (or I guess like, 16 boxes), and I came across my most recent journal, the last entry in it February 18, 2011. And even though I know I posted semi-frequently on this blog while in Japan, and much less frequently after moving back to the States and being in grad school, there is something about writing in my journal that is so sacred and spiritual. And I can’t believe I haven’t written in a journal for two and a half years!! It used to be so therapeutic. And reading back on old entries, like I’ve been doing tonight because I can’t sleep (or can I not sleep, because I’m reading old journal entries?), is a testament that although I’m basically still the same person I was while I was waiting to apply to the JET program; in the JET Program in Japan; and leaving Japan for grad school, there have been little changes about me that I can recognize, and that I am proud of. But I guess even if I do grow a bit here and there, I will probably always be: hyper-sensitive. internalizing. a perfectionist. a pleasure seeker. Besides all that reflective crap that comes along with reading back on old journals, it has also reminded me of the handful of blog entries that I have been wanting to write (many popped into my head over the summer, but some have been simmering for much longer than that). And it’s a little disappointing to know that I’ll be lucky if half of them ever make it on here. Because writing takes me time (mostly because I’m a perfectionist). And if I don’t have the time, I don’t write. And truly, it’s gotten to the point where I don’t feel bad about it, because it’s just the reality of where I’m at right now. But just for tonight, I’m really wishing the journal (mostly the old-school one, but to an extent this blog as well, hence why I’m here) could make a come-back into my life. One day, I hope to not be so busy that I don’t care about saving a little time capsule, in writing, of all the moments and emotions that tie me together from then to now. At least every now and then. Because they can be fun to read back on… every now and then.

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