While I do not yet consider myself a writer, I’ve always found writing to be the best way to release emotions, to better understand my own thoughts, and to keep myself creating.  Over the last few years I’ve made attempts to keep a journal, and since moving to England I’ve gotten much better at making entries at least once a week.  I find myself very frustrated when I’ve gone more than a week without taking the time to sit down and work through everything in my head on paper.  A writer’s block for a journal-keeper is probably the most frustrating type of block—for me it feels like I have no thoughts in my head at all when I can’t think of something to write.

The best part about journaling is going back through your entries and being able to see how you’ve changed over time.  My journal from my senior year of high school is a form of endless entertainment and heartache for me.  Reading through it a stroll down the clichéd memory lane that I could never do on my own.  Over the last few years I’ve realized that I have a horrible memory.  I have difficultly remembering why I ever liked certain bands, or how music affected the passion I felt for my high school crush, or why I even liked a guy whose face was covered in cocktail-onion sized zits (my oldest sister’s characterization of him).

More recent journals remind of topics that affected me or even inspire new ideas that I want to explore in writing.

Maybe it’s because I’ve been watching too much Ugly Betty recently, but I want to start actually writing about things on this blog- not just documenting events in my life.  What good is telling the world about what you’re doing if you can’t offer a way for other people to connect to you?  So, while I know I have about 2 people who actually read this, I want to turn this blog into something worthwhile.  If I’m so desperate to get into the world of publishing, then it’s time I started proving that I actually have some ability.