Journal

May 10 2017
Haven't written a journal in eons. Used to keep one and ended up throwing them into a camp fire many years ago. I regret that now as it would have been nice to look back. Burning them was a childish attempt to distance myself form what I perceived as sadness, or complaining, or just the general dissatisfaction of my youth.
I think the hardest part of writing is honesty. I'm afraid to write. Afraid to let others see my thoughts in case I am offensive, or more to the point, if I somehow leave myself exposed to ridicule or threat, or judgment.
Why write now? No idea. The impulse just hit me. I enjoy the writing. It's very cathartic. I've always thought I had a story or a book in me somewhere but I lack the courage of my own convictions to risk putting them on paper. They won't be good enough, people will laugh, I'll get turned into a "meme" etc. My sister Karen submitted a story recently to the "Chicken Soup for the Soul" people which was accepted and will appear in their next book. So SHE is a published writer... Being jealous I'll probably poke fun at her to cover my own insecurities... it's what I do.


May 12 2017 - I thought I would feel more elated. Victorious. The bully at work was fired. But all I can feel is empathy, which I suppose is a good thing. Having lived through it (and in many ways, still living through it) I can relate to the feeling of being rejected. What you thought of as a career is reduced to gossip between former colleagues.


June 8 2017
Wake up every morning with a goal. Something to accomplish or avoid through the day. Every day I seem to blow it. Old habits die hard. I can't stop... I can't write honestly.


Tuesday June 27 2017
I keep getting ideas. Urges, whims, to write. But I stop myself. I can't write honestly. I admire authors that seem to write from the heart