I figured that if I was going to have any sort of success in keeping this journal a little bit alive, I needed to spend some time when I had the urge and time to write creating a small backlog of entries so that I could at least present the internet with something from me when a block hit. Perhaps this will take the pressure off of feeling guilty when I don’t write, and allow me to enjoy and appreciate the times I do.
I used to write a lot of poetry. And, if I am not too biased, I was pretty darn good at it too. Writing poems helped me work through a lot of dark thoughts and feelings. A lot of my poetry concerned my spirituality (which yes, I’ve mentioned in several entries now. Perhaps, one day I’ll expound a little on that.), but some of it did relate to people, in particular, and feelings I had towards people I couldn’t openly reveal.
I haven’t written a poem in over 6 years. I don’t know why I stopped exactly. I think it had something to do with the death knell of a phase of a particular relationship I had, and that I had lost a lot of the culture that I had created around me during those prolific poetry years. I once told a friend that I write best when in love or happy, coasting on the physical highs those emotions provoke in me. But, so much of my poetry was dark and angry, at least, on the surface. Perhaps I unwittingly lied to my friend when I said that. Maybe the truth is, I write best when I can feel a connection to someone or something that makes me want to be better, smarter, and honest. It’s been a long time since I have had that.
My older brother bought me a leather bound journal for Christmas one year. I haven’t used it. Part of that is that it’s beautiful and I don’t want to ruin it with scratched out words and my own insane thoughts. Another reason is that if I were to use it, I wanted a purpose for it that I would stick to. In truth, as you can see from the haphazard posting I do here, I am not very good at keeping a regular journal. About the only thing in my life that is regulated is my work, and heck, that changes all the time too. Keeping a journal every day, writing on the regular? Ha! That’s just not for me. Never has been, never will be.
Now, I think I know what I want to use that journal for. I want to get in touch with the poetic part of me that has been gone for so many years. I have a feeling that this will not be fun. I think I’m going to hate a lot of what may come out, and I hate when I don’t like what I write. But, I need to do this. I miss the part of me I saw when I crafted a poem, and I need to find that again. If I don’t try now, I might never do it.
That would be the biggest loss of all.