yes blog, i am cheating on you with my journal. well i suppose technically i am cheating on my journal with you.
i have kept a journal since i became an angsty teenager. as far as i am concerned, i am still an angsty teenager. possibly forever. i have a billion of them stashed safely at mum's house. i just finished one that ellie gave me as a travel present, and now i am into the red one that mum gave me... as a travel present. i delight in being this predictable.
a blog seems to me to be part journal, part self-advertisement. i am pretty sure about 2.5 people read my blog, so that's not bad.
and now, dear 2.5 readers, i want to share something from a journal that i just found tonight, that i kind of like as far as my writing goes:
"she bought tobacco, filters and papers, and took up smoking, just for this rainy friday afternoon, just for something to do. she had returned to her hometown to somehow find herself alone and wandering about, eyeing off highschool children nursing a vague sense that she knew them somehow, that they were friends she'd not yet met. at 23, even the youngest of her brothers had long been finished with highschool (to his relief) and so she did not know any of them, not really. she spent a quiet afternoon smoking, lingering over cups of coffee at the town's various cafes, staring at strangers over the top of her cup. she bought a book. she had no way of knowing the time; she was without a watch, as she had been for the past year, too lazy to commit the single seemingly easy act of buying a new battery. easier to buy tobacco, filters and papers, and take up smoking, just for one rainy friday afternoon."
i have always loved writing, and i think i always will. maybe i should do something with that love- create something worth selling.
oh, i don't know. what i do know is that i love and treasure my red journal, and all my journals really. slightly alarming that i have been writing the same shit in them for more than 10 years.