Sometimes I fantasize about how good it would feel to write my journals with pen and paper. It’s an odd fantasy because I haven’t physically written anything in that way for 16 or 17 years now. I’m not sure how accurate this is memory is, but the last time I remember writing in an old school notebook was back in England, circa 2001. England was also the same time period where I started writing in my online ‘Bleeding Heart’ journal, that memory IS definitely true.

The last notebook I ever wrote in is somewhat of a foreverly unknown mystery for me. It was a notebook of secrets relating to the dramas in my life at that time… and it disappeared. My dorm room wasn’t very big. There are only so many logical places a journal could have gone on it’s own. Even if I accept the idea that my plastic bound notebook grew legs and walked away, am I also to believe that it grew hands with opposable thumbs and opened the door? It wasn’t this event that caused me to start an blog but I’m sure it didn’t hurt.  Also, I hated the word blog.  I wrote in an online journal, there was a very clear difference and I wasn’t afraid to make that point to everyone ~ as if they cared.

Freehand writing is making a comeback, so I hear. I’m not against it, but it’s not like an old glove for me.

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