Thursday, November 22, 2012
The Writing on the Wall
I packed up lots of books and some favorite pictures and frames, and then I came across a box just marked "closet shelves." And when I opened the box, I found those six journals in the picture up there. I don't really remember being a serious journal keeper, so I expected the pages to be mostly blank. Imagine my surprise when, one by one, I opened each journal to find them all entirely filled with writing. Turns out, I was a bit of a journaler. From sixth grade through the end of my sophomore year in college, my entire life is documented in my own words.
Color me amazed.
I guess it's no accident that I have taken to blogging with such a fierce determination. Because really, I have been doing it in some form, albeit less public, for almost twenty years.
So, of course, I will be taking these six books back with me to New York to keep in my new house. And although I won't display them on my bookshelves like I will my prized book collection, and although I probably won't go back and read them (because honestly, who wants to read words written by their high school selves?), I will know that they are there, existing as a symbol. The writing on the wall if you will. A sign that I am, finally, becoming what I was always meant to be.