It’s funny, I thought that I’d write these sort of “filler” posts until I was ready to “start” the journal, but I post every day—it was already a sort of journal. Yesterday I made up some title for the post, but today it felt strange to do that, so I didn’t. I’m starting the journal, I guess.
One other sticking point for me (and I was like this with morning pages for a year) is that I just can’t imagine missing a post or not keeping it around forever, but I’m learning to let go of that too. I suspect that I’ll tuck many of the posts on this site away soon—available still, but not in the list to peruse. This blog is for me. It’s for thinking; for progress.
I’m aware that this post—and the past couple posts, and the next few, more than likely—are meta. I’m writing journal entries about writing a journal. If I can’t use the journal to learn about my practice and teach me things about myself though, it might not be much of a journal. I’ll try to take it less seriously. There are no rules (except those I impose).
I do want to steer the things I write here toward the creative project(s) that I want to pursue, but I’ll give myself a minute to get there. When I do, maybe I’ll opt for a clean start. There’s something symbolic about starting again, and something cathartic in letting go of a perfect streak. Who knows. I’m just trying to say that it’s fine to do that.
So, welcome to a few days of me sounding absolutely incoherent. I’m not sure that’s markedly different to anything else on this blog, but I feel some sort of lightness in it. There’s something comforting about writing about nothing in the plainest of language. It feels like blogging—real, old-school, bona fide blogging. Catch you in the next one.