Writing Words Than Speaking Them
I noticed that I haven't been writing much lately.More like,since Feb actually.If I say there's nothing to write,that would not exactly be the truth because my mind has quite a lot to say these days.
In school days,I write in my diary every night usually before bed,making it a routine for a good night's sleep.But this year,I found myself reluctant to write in the diary I purchased at the brink of New Year's Eve.I could not say why.
It could be because it was more like a planner's book rather than a diary and I rather don't like the sight of the ready prints of days and dates blank in it.It feels empty,somehow.
Instead,I wrote and doodled freely in the very much abused scrap log books I found -or searched- as days passed.
Most I store fictions I wrote on my own and dreams I remembered from nights in my sleep.I've been having vivid dreams,some pleasant and some not.
And pleasant or not,I wrote them down so that I could remember them.Don't ask.I just do.Memories,I learn,can be quite precious sometimes.
Even when I wanted to forget the bad ones,they remind me of the lesson I later learned and not to repeat.Such as,never be alone in a shared room at night.
I miss the routine of sitting down and write the things in my head before I sleep.Maybe I should start again.God knows I'll be needing a lot of those in the future.
Diaries will pile up more and more and someday,maybe,just maybe,if God wills it,my husband and kids and hopefully grankids will find them entertaining.
I have trouble with my mouth.Sometimes my brain-to-mouth filter jams and spout hurtful,mean,blunt things,to people and to myself.That's why I preferred to just shut up most of the time.Silence is golden,right?
Whenever I have opinions that -in my case- could possibly offend an undeserving company,I would just smile and shut up.Or just shrug.that works too.
In school days,I write in my diary every night usually before bed,making it a routine for a good night's sleep.But this year,I found myself reluctant to write in the diary I purchased at the brink of New Year's Eve.I could not say why.
It could be because it was more like a planner's book rather than a diary and I rather don't like the sight of the ready prints of days and dates blank in it.It feels empty,somehow.
Instead,I wrote and doodled freely in the very much abused scrap log books I found -or searched- as days passed.
 |
| The truth and only truth. |
And pleasant or not,I wrote them down so that I could remember them.Don't ask.I just do.Memories,I learn,can be quite precious sometimes.
Even when I wanted to forget the bad ones,they remind me of the lesson I later learned and not to repeat.Such as,never be alone in a shared room at night.
I miss the routine of sitting down and write the things in my head before I sleep.Maybe I should start again.God knows I'll be needing a lot of those in the future.
Diaries will pile up more and more and someday,maybe,just maybe,if God wills it,my husband and kids and hopefully grankids will find them entertaining.
I have trouble with my mouth.Sometimes my brain-to-mouth filter jams and spout hurtful,mean,blunt things,to people and to myself.That's why I preferred to just shut up most of the time.Silence is golden,right?
 |
| Magic lies between pages. |
Whenever I have opinions that -in my case- could possibly offend an undeserving company,I would just smile and shut up.Or just shrug.that works too.
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