The “crap” journal

For the past few months, I’ve been waging my own private war against resistance, getting up early to spend some time each day writing.  This time has become sacred to me, for may different reasons, but I’m sorry to say that not much actual writing has gotten done.  Instead, I literally spend hours sitting in front of the keyboard, waiting for inspiration to strike.

Lately, I’ve realized that part of my problem is a fear of failure and vulnerability, interestingly enough, even towards myself.  I recognize that no one else is necessarily going to be reading what I write, but even so, I just haven’t been able to get over this idea that what I write has to be great in order to make it from my mind to the page (insecurity dwells deep in me.)  So I recently decided to take measures to alleviate this problem and bought a new journal.  Not just any journal, but specifically a sketch pad just like the one I had during my freshman year in high school when I attended LaGuardia, a school of the arts, and carried one just like it everywhere (literally, everywhere) I went.

So I bought the new journal/sketch pad and gave myself one rule: WRITE.  Write EVERYTHING.  Whatever comes to mind, whatever I’m thinking, whatever I’m experiencing, whatever interesting (or uninteresting) thing that happens to touch my heart: write it down.  I write anything and everything in this journal with only one exception: if I’m writing/painting/drawing something I think is (or could be) GOOD, it goes somewhere else.  This journal isn’t for the good stuff… it’s (mostly) for the crap.  The random thoughts, the doodles, the experiments with new art mediums, it (almost) all goes in the book.

I feel as if I’ve joined up with a long-lost friend.  When I attended LaGuardia, I spent hours skipping class (or zoning out during class) and hanging out in various parks all over New York City, doodling and writing in a sketch pad exactly like this one.  I have no idea what on earth I had to write about for so many hours (those journals have long since been gone) but isn’t that the point?  I may not have anything at all to write about, but…

I’m writing.

 

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