The end of paper...

Yesterday night as everyone was getting ready for bed my niece asked me if I still write in my journals. I told her yes and made a mental note to hide them (my family comes from a long line of meddling in affairs that aren't their own; it's their way of looking out as they like to call it). She told me happily that she too still writes, just not on an actual paper journal, like this purple one imprinted with stars an a moon and an inspirational quote. She writes on her electronic device.

I know I am preaching to the choir when I talk about writing on electronic devices, but I also like to point out that I still write in my actual journals, like I mentioned before.

But here are the differences in writing in my journal vs writing on the computer.

My journal is influenced by certain feelings that relate on a more personal level, and I am not one to release certain things online like so many others. Many people will say, "that's because you aren't showing your true self; you are ashamed of who you are," to which I say no. If you wish to recount every tiny little thing that has ever happened to you and put it online for the whole world to see, that is and forever will be your business.

I feel that everyone needs that barrier of protection; to hide away some part of you is half the fun for the rest of society. They don't truly know everything there is about you to claim whether you are this person. But only when they get to know you on a more personal level, the relationship can change to where you have either common interests or your surprised by them.

What I post here are more for fun, and to practice writing. My other blog on tumblr is more or less the same thing, only for pictures.

But it is something when I write on paper and when I write about myself that I truly feel those layers deteriorate. Just like I said, it's a more personal level with yourself because you aren't going to show what you have written, it's your own handwriting, and if you make a mistake, it's not as simple as clicking the delete button anymore. It's a permanent mark, just like every decision you have made up until the end of it all.

That's why I was saddened to hear the fact that my niece is writing on her iPod touch. Sure there is still that sense of privacy, but it is no longer something that is delicate or your mistakes to be shown. It is simply monotone in characteristic. There is no more hand writing.

And that is what truly makes me sad. But again, I am preaching to the choir, but I still hope you that read this take this post into consideration, and think about how much you depend on your technology to help you out with your feelings.

Correction, I have six journals

This Sunday is the last Sunday before I have to go back to school for three more weeks until I take my finals and prepare either to hibernate for winter break or get everything packed up for Mexico. I can easily say I am looking forward much more into one over the other. And for those reading they already know which one that is exactly.

Anyways, on my break, I decided to troll around my different websites: this blog, twitter, and my Facebook, just to see what I can do after I finished reading Till we Have Faces by C.S. Lewis, a great retelling of the Greek myth Psyche told in the sisters perspective. In one of my notes that I posted on my Facebook, it said I had three journals that I actively keep up to date and in order. I found six that I write in (both randomly and actively) and two that I have never raped with a pen. Three of them are filled, as in there are two to three pages left or have no more room worth writing in, and the rest I have yet to complete. I don't remember much of what I was writing in these books, but after peeking in I found some vague matters of severe depression and paranoia surrounding my so called love life, the changes and different perspectives I have overcome that I would like to reflect on it here, vaguely.


Number one: more often than not I actually started with the dark blue journal with the purple flower encased with an orange portrait. I actually began writing in that one explaining simple fairy tale fantasies of a love struck girl that was contemplating returning to an old flame or not, further transforming to an ardent and unrequited love that actually made me question love in general to a love that was in no way ideal, and haunted me throughout the rest of my journals.

Number 2: two certain males that have affected my love life are written continuously throughout all six of these journals, making me realize I spent too much time with them and what I wanted from them. I needed to move on, but up to this point in my life, nothing good came along to change my views of love or who I should love. In other words, I am still somewhat stuck, and still take in what I feel for them in an affectionate tone towards anything romantic that I write to this day.

Number 3: dramatic indeed! Nothing in the majority of these journals was happy, or nice for that matter. I was a depressed young one, and never really gave it much thought. But I do have to admit, what I experienced in high school was so dramatic, it was begging for its own reality TV show on Vh1.

Number 4: there are some potential ideas that I haven't revisited in years. All these journals began comforting me in my freshman year of high school, and have followed me throughout the years as I continue on in college, still being filled, although I am mostly focusing on the big grey one.

As I conclude, I would like to say that I would love to write out everything in chronological order that is in my journals, showcasing my writings and what I want to do once I begin a career in writing. But in the end I am always and forever just a shy and protective girl. Like I told a friend, there are some things that you should remain a secret, because that's what can make you so irresistible. Plus, some of my friends already know the majority of these works, but they don't really know the truth of my emotions that I have over these certain events. They just know the façade that I have kept up to this day. Why would I want to change my mind now, when that drama happened too long ago?