I was asked to say a few things today at church about journal writing. The first thing I thought when Vicki asked me was, "She doesn't know me very well, because if she did... she definitely wouldn't have asked ME to talk about writing in my journal!" I will be the first to admit that I am LOUSY about writing in a journal. I can look back across the last 16 years and find, maybe 3 journal entries. I'm not sure if it is that horrifying feeling of sitting there with a pen and a blank book... or the idea that what I say needs to be important or insightful... or, worse still, 50 years from now, who will be reading this?! And what will they be thinking??? I can just picture someone reading my pathetic attempts at at journal and saying, "Grandma Rebekah... *wow, that was weird to type!*... was so boring" or "Life must have really stunk 50 years ago, I'm so glad we didn't live then!"
I have my issues, I know, but on the other hand... *see me waving my left hand in the air*... I can't begin to describe how much I would like to have something, ANYTHING written by my grandparents or great-grandparents that could clue me into why they were who they were, or what possessed them to move so frequently. It would be really great not to have to guess at why my Great Grandpa O'Kelley was married 3 times and to his sister-in-law the last time? OR Why my other Great Grandpa Morton decided to leave Canada and enlist in the Navy during the Civil War? But, because they left no records, or journals (that I know of) all I CAN do is guess.
So much of my life is mundane. Who wants to read about endless laundry and my war against Coarsegold dust? I am so far from being eloquent... and I never did figure out the trick to telling a good story. (It would probably help if I could corral all these thoughts that just spin out of control in my head! but I gave up on that long ago!)
The really sad part, is that my memory is rubbish. I can barely remember stuff from last week, let alone years ago. Even the hugely significant events in my life... I couldn't describe them with any amount of detail, and some... I have no recollection of at all, even though I am certain that they DID actually take place. There are times when I would dearly love to be able to have a pensive, (you fellow Harry Potter freaks out there will know exactly what I am taking about!) so I could pull those memories out and examine them. *wistful sigh*
Curtis was there when I was asked to talk on this and the first thing he said was, "Would you like me to pack you some tissues?" Thanks for that vote of confidence... He knows that I cannot NOT cry! I started to lament and list my inadequacies *see above* and he said that my scrapbooks and blog were great examples of journaling. I think he was just trying to climb his way out of the "tissues" hole he'd just dug... but I guess, in a way, they could count. They are a sort of documentation to my existence. They aren't very insightful, but they are a start. (I can totally rationalize that if you give me enough time!) Maybe Vicki WAS inspired to ask me, because now I feel this incredible need to make sure I do leave my mark.