On journaling

This is the back cover of a journal I kept from April 2000 to August 2000


Other people’s journals. Pages we are not to see..the inner thinking s of a person between 2 cardboard slabs. So, what happens when you lose your trusty journal? When you accidentally put it into the library drop box…or your mom accidentally gives it to Goodwill when she cleans out your room when you go away to college? Well, if it happened to you within the past 10 years, you may have exposed your inner thinkings to a disgruntled clerk who happens to be an artist.

Over the years I have collected over 10 personal journals that belong to other people. Some of them are from children who write about their sick mother and divorce. Some of them are from people with ordinary lives. Others are only a few pages written. When I was a librarian, I would mostly return it unopned if there was a way to identify the owner. Other times, I would stash it away to read later. I figured it was my right to read them if they had an unidentifiable owner. At this age (28), I couldn’t bare the guilt of doing that.

I have been keeping a journal seriously since the 5th grade. The longest period of time without writing was probably 3 years. Two of those years were spent writing letters to a long distance boyfriend. I was getting my writing fix, but won’t be able to reap the benefits of it because I wasn’t writing it to keep.

I wonder if I secretly want others to read my journals. As I look back on some of my old journals, I can’t believe I toted them around with me in public. Surprisingly, I never lost one; however, I am certain my friends peeked once in a while. In fact, I speculate that a friendship of mine ended because of what I wrote in my journal. When I think about it, whatever they read was the truth, or at least the way I felt…so it’s good that they read it. I’ll never know what it was that pissed them off so much. I’m entertaining the idea of asking them…