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Journal thoughts
Oct. 9th, 2018 02:33 amLacunae perhaps? I wonder what it is about online journals that so many people give up on them, and so quickly at that. I've been using mine, first on livejournal, then here, since what, 2002-ish? But not a single one of the other journals I've friended or followed over the years kept with it. Many lasted less than a year; most, come to think of it. I guess I feel like if you're going to go to all the trouble of creating something, don't let it vanish into the aether. Granted, I use this much less often than I did in the first year and have at times gone a month or three between posts, but I've never ceased.
Maybe I still use it because I don't often have a reliable outlet for my thoughts or gripes. Plus, writing my thoughts down really helps me process things. Something about being forced to slow my thinking down in order to put it on screen or paper. Plus, it's still a hell of a lot easier and quicker to write here than in the pen and paper journal I keep next to my bed and barely ever use anymore. The irony in that one is that I don't write as much in the real journal because my life is less angsty and thus needs much less expressing. I kept having days where I would just sit in bed and look at it with literally nothing new to say. Without the hormones of youth to make everything so much more momentous, I'm okay with not having as much to write about. Truth be told, I think I'm also just out of the habit. As with many endeavors, one must use it or lose it.
My writings in general tend to be lot more stream-of-conscious than I like to admit and tend to meander. But that can be good for me as well, as it means that I had much in my head that needed pondering and venting. I've always had interest in so many disparate areas and ideas that I am rarely able to sit down to commit to any one thing, and my writing shows it. The few attempts I made back in the day at writing fic (most revolving around the first few seasons of Smallville) mainly ended up being vignettes. Some people could write entire epics given the same time and topic, but I excelled in the short spurts of creativity. It's ever interesting going back to read the things I once wrote. Some make me squirm to think I actually wrote such a thing, or at its simplicity, but I am also gladdened to find as oft as nought (naught?) my work stands up.
I actually find it a tad depressing when I reread some of the funnier things I wrote, as it makes me wonder where went my whit. It's like, why am I not this funny anymore? Of course, some of that old creativity came from hormones and from some pretty major depression/anxiety, none of which I would return to in exchange. I don't know what it is about being in a funk, but it can power some pretty mighty creativity at times. I wrote so much poetry in my more hormonal, angsty moments... Ah, memories.
Maybe I still use it because I don't often have a reliable outlet for my thoughts or gripes. Plus, writing my thoughts down really helps me process things. Something about being forced to slow my thinking down in order to put it on screen or paper. Plus, it's still a hell of a lot easier and quicker to write here than in the pen and paper journal I keep next to my bed and barely ever use anymore. The irony in that one is that I don't write as much in the real journal because my life is less angsty and thus needs much less expressing. I kept having days where I would just sit in bed and look at it with literally nothing new to say. Without the hormones of youth to make everything so much more momentous, I'm okay with not having as much to write about. Truth be told, I think I'm also just out of the habit. As with many endeavors, one must use it or lose it.
My writings in general tend to be lot more stream-of-conscious than I like to admit and tend to meander. But that can be good for me as well, as it means that I had much in my head that needed pondering and venting. I've always had interest in so many disparate areas and ideas that I am rarely able to sit down to commit to any one thing, and my writing shows it. The few attempts I made back in the day at writing fic (most revolving around the first few seasons of Smallville) mainly ended up being vignettes. Some people could write entire epics given the same time and topic, but I excelled in the short spurts of creativity. It's ever interesting going back to read the things I once wrote. Some make me squirm to think I actually wrote such a thing, or at its simplicity, but I am also gladdened to find as oft as nought (naught?) my work stands up.
I actually find it a tad depressing when I reread some of the funnier things I wrote, as it makes me wonder where went my whit. It's like, why am I not this funny anymore? Of course, some of that old creativity came from hormones and from some pretty major depression/anxiety, none of which I would return to in exchange. I don't know what it is about being in a funk, but it can power some pretty mighty creativity at times. I wrote so much poetry in my more hormonal, angsty moments... Ah, memories.
