Tag Archives: journaling

Nothing Personal

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A projection reflected 

“A monolith protected by a Sphinx at each cardinal direction…eternally reflecting projections, with a challenge to all who approach.” That’s what I found looking back through my journals from last year, about this time of year. It was actually more of an oath I took with myself. I would never reveal myself fully in earnest to anyone ever again…it ruins all the fun.

Did you know that Sphinx is from the Greek for “to strangle”? Makes sense, like “asphixiation.” But yeah that’s what I wrote. That was my pledge to myself. Why? For a lot of reasons that are nobody’s business but my own. But I thought of this because of some recent requests that I post “more about myself” or urges to “be more honest.”

I’m here. I’m all over this blog. I’m all in the writing I’ve posted here. I’m in every character I write. They’re all more me than anyone  or anything else, including anything I could tell you about myself. Why look for the petty details? I urge you to believe that the facts are as dull as a year’s worth of Facebook pics of lattes and lunches…OMG my whatever is so whatever today…cats…

Regardless, some people like a mystery. But, as Sherlock Holmes often lamented, revealing the mystery behind his solutions to mysteries, mainly met with “Oh well that’s so obvious now.” Surely, the appreciation that Watson still held for his process was the reason he was Holmes’ only friend.

So why not leave well enough alone? Going back to Sphinxes, Oedipus paid a high price for his search for the truth. And once he saw, he blinded himself. So why not just leave it be? I’m all there, for the intrepid and observant, but is it really worth the pain? Me, my writing, it may all be me, but what you see is whatever you like. An infinite reflection of infinite projections. Why not just enjoy the show?

 

 

 


What a Loverly Daze

morrissey_bona drag

And if I seem a little strange, that’s because I am.

What a daze. What a loverly daze. Another snow today. Not the blizzard angry Thor thunder-snow sort, just a stay in and drink tea in jammies with books day. And, if you’re like me, you couldn’t resist some Smiths and writing in your journal. And if you are like me, well, where have you been? And if you’re not, that’s OK too.

Man, is there anything important or useful that can be done on a day such as this? I can’t imagine what or why you’d want to. I was impressed that I cleaned a bit and wrote a bit. Showered.

The journal writing was good. I can be even more personal, random and meaningless there than anywhere. And yet, that’s where I come from. As far as writing is concerned. My first journal was a Tinkerbell notebook from the 1st grade. I always wanted to write. I always wanted and kept a journal. Look in my Mom’s basement. Look in my wooden chest. A whole life in little bound books.  (*Get those back from Mom.)

And it’s not that my journals are going to rival Samuel Pepys’ or Thoreau’s. But they represent an actual thing I have accomplished. But more importantly, that’s where my voice comes from. I can wriggle through every crease in my mind, process it all, write through the thousands of voices I take in and come out sounding something like myself. And that’s gotta be something. For a writer.

Honestly, voice is key. If you can nail you, you can nail anyone. What more is my voice than a grand amalgam of every voice and influence I’ve ever taken in since I was born? That’s a lot of voices. All of those people, characters, movies, books, the poems and songs, the interwebs.  All condensed and focused through the lens of me.

And while, yes, I might fall into your “journal keeping” stereotype. It’s a thing I’d suggest all writers do. It’s the easiest, least pressure way to just write a little, every day every day every day. And journals don’t all have to be the mole-skin or Red Book of Westmarch type of journal. Go to the dollar store. Use a legal pad. Start a new notebook on your computer, on your phone. Just write. It’s not precious or for posterity. It’s for you.

Have a cup of tea. Play your favorite music. Scribble lines in the margins. Keep your favorite quotes in the pages. Write down something you just heard in a movie or on that TV show. Just put some writing on some paper or pixels. You’ll feel better I swear. Even if better means you just want to wallow. Wallow away. No one’s there to judge.

And if you are like me, then remember, I may wear black on the outside ’cause black is how I feel on the inside, but I have a heck of a time doing it. You know, just being me. Go be you, and choose any color you like.

 

 

 

 

 


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