I Miss Keeping a Daily Journal
I really miss the days I was able to keep a hand written journal.
It started out a lined notebook paper and a Bic ball point pen, but grew into nicely bound- books with handmade paper. I would write in black ink only, with a Waterman fountain pen. I would put on a nice piece of Baroque or New Age music, sit at my table and write. There is something intimate and personal about the written word that cannot be duplicated on a computer or a blog.
I had one for 17 years. I have 36 volumes of collected thoughts, feelings, disappointments, hopes, and dreams from when I was 20 years old, spanning to 37 . My future ex thought it was a waste of time for a then 35 y/o man to keep a journal, and when I told her I would will them to our children, she said that she would burn them before she allowed our children to read them. Later she betrayed my trust and decided she needed to read them for herself. Needless to say my journal, w/ the exception of a few open letters written on scrap, is a part of my history. I really wish I was able to keep one again, and believe it to be safe from her prying eyes.