I just want to say thanks to everyone who has taken the time to write comments on this blog. I love to check and see if anyone has written anything. In fact, I often check a couple of times a day. And I love this blog. Some of you may be aware of my paper fetish, . . no? Well, let me explain . . or try to.
I’ve been keeping a journal since I was a pre-teen and struggling with a way to vent anger in a way that was not harmful to those around me. My mother suggested writing everything down, I heard about my great grandmother keeping a journal since she was small (and she lived nearly a century–quite a few changes in her life such as cars, refrigerators, electricity, etc. ) and well, I decided that I liked the idea. I’ve pretty much been writing ever since. I haven’t had the chance to do a whole lot of it since I married Dan. Adjusting to his schedule, kids, new responsibilities, . . those kinds of things just sort of take up your time. Anyway, I have found that a blank piece of paper just calls for me to fill it. Sometimes I get a new notebook or tablet and I can barely wait to use it. It looks so fresh and pretty. But a journal, a fresh new journal demands that I fill it. I have on occasion filled pages of a journal at a shot just trying to get to the end. It’s like reading a good book. You just keep going because you can’t put it down. You have to know how it all turns out. Well, journal writing is sort of like that for me. I just can’t put it down, I have to know how I’m going to end it. I want to know where I will be when it ends.
Dan didn’t understand this fetish very much. He thought that anything you wrote down could eventually come back to haunt you. While I do have to agree somewhat with his theory I have to admit that I wish a bit more of his thoughts would come back to haunt me. It was a bit of an adjustment during our dating period. My love of the written word was rarely satisfied as he just didn’t write . . anything. My dad is kind of the same way. He doesn’t bother writing unless he really has something worth writing about. Again, not a bad philosophy to have, but again not quite the way I work. I think I have every single letter he wrote to me in college stashed away somewhere. Probably have most of Dan’s stuff too. Their lack of writing meant that what they did write was a bit more valuable.
Anyway, all that to say that this blog is great in that I always have a blank piece of paper just waiting for me to fill it up. And even better yet, this talks/writes back. =)
I have to admit that this fetish also makes me do strange things. I often look at things like the directions for putting together Benjamin’s bassinet (way back when) and edit them. I think I found over 30 misspellings and simple grammar errors in those directions. Obviously a foreign made object . . or at least that was the joke between Dan and I. I have caught myself on occasion wondering if Mrs. Marion (college Eng teacher) is doing the same thing to my blog. Are you? =) I hated English. Never felt like I did a good job. Punctuation still evades me. And I would rather write like I talk anyway. Loved my teacher, though. =)
But I really must stop writing. I’m not likely to reach the end tonight — of my grieving or the end of this page. (Oh, and it’s so much easier to erase, rearrange, and rewrite things on a computer. Paper just can’t keep up with that.)