I always found daily journaling to be a waste of time and effort. Recording my daily thoughts on days when nothing of note happened never felt like something I should do. In fact, most of my attempts at journaling would transform into works of fantasy; mostly involving pirates and the occasional cannibal. I've always understood the importance that people can find in journaling, don't get me wrong! It just lacks that importance to me. I wish I could journal. I wish I could be so disciplined that at the end of every night I sat down and wrote out everything that had happened during the day. But I'm not.
Instead I vlog.
Vlogging is exactly like journaling, except I don't have to deal with all that pesky writing! Says the writer... Anyways, don't question my logic! Honestly, it's more the fact that I don't have to remember what I did during the day, I can just check my footage and I'm good to go! I mean. I'm still writing everyday (what do you call this?), so I don't feel too bad about not writing in a journal. I keep journals, but they're all full of writing and poems, and ideas for said writing. So they're more fancy looking journals. I'm exhausted if you can't tell by my writing.
The idea of journaling has always fascinated me, and many of my historical and fictional heroes have journaled. They all made it seem so magical. With each stroke, they made history. And their writing read like Greek epics, and when they touched on their love life, every phrase was carefully constructed to perfectly reflect the beauty they saw. I may have a romanticized view of journaling. And maybe this romanticism is the reason that I can't make myself journal: I don't feel like I can match the perfection that I see in other's journaling.
February 24th, year 2016 of our Lord,
Today I awoke to the gentle intones of my alarm sitting upon my bedside table. A gentle smile caressed my face as I rose to greet the day. Wide, did I fling open my blinds, eyes closed basking in the simple touch of sun's warmth.
Joyfully I reached for my mobile, the source of much of my joys and my means of connection with those I love, to peruse my notifications. My eyes lit gleefully when they fell upon her name. Oh! How did my heart flutter at the sight. Speedily and without grace I fell upon my bed to compose a witty response to her salutations. No mere words could ever truly convey the pure love in my heart for her, nonetheless I struggle towards that unattainable goal daily.
"As much as I love the greetings of morning's sun, all pales to the pure bliss I experience at the first message I receive from you." More sap and less witticism, but still an adequate (albeit only adequate!) response to her's.
Much to my dismay, dear journal, I had to put my mobile down and prepare for my day's trivialities. She stayed on my mind the entire time, but stating that is as obvious as stating capitalism doesn't work [I had to, sorry]. How my heart yearns for the day that I can collapse into her arms at the end of each day! Alas, this is not to be--not yet! I hold onto hope that the day will come to be!
The day progressed much as usual. The crisp ice, left over from yesterthaw, crunched underfoot as I strode, rather dejectedly as I had not heard from her yet, into my office building. A rather resplendent building befitting the treasures that are held within.
Normally, dear journal, I would write past this! Unfortunately I cannot, for not else has transpired as of yet.
As fun as that was, I couldn't write like that every single day. I would probably start laughing at myself from the pretentiousness of it all.
Anyways. Hope you all enjoyed that!
Instead I vlog.
Vlogging is exactly like journaling, except I don't have to deal with all that pesky writing! Says the writer... Anyways, don't question my logic! Honestly, it's more the fact that I don't have to remember what I did during the day, I can just check my footage and I'm good to go! I mean. I'm still writing everyday (what do you call this?), so I don't feel too bad about not writing in a journal. I keep journals, but they're all full of writing and poems, and ideas for said writing. So they're more fancy looking journals. I'm exhausted if you can't tell by my writing.
The idea of journaling has always fascinated me, and many of my historical and fictional heroes have journaled. They all made it seem so magical. With each stroke, they made history. And their writing read like Greek epics, and when they touched on their love life, every phrase was carefully constructed to perfectly reflect the beauty they saw. I may have a romanticized view of journaling. And maybe this romanticism is the reason that I can't make myself journal: I don't feel like I can match the perfection that I see in other's journaling.
February 24th, year 2016 of our Lord,
Today I awoke to the gentle intones of my alarm sitting upon my bedside table. A gentle smile caressed my face as I rose to greet the day. Wide, did I fling open my blinds, eyes closed basking in the simple touch of sun's warmth.
Joyfully I reached for my mobile, the source of much of my joys and my means of connection with those I love, to peruse my notifications. My eyes lit gleefully when they fell upon her name. Oh! How did my heart flutter at the sight. Speedily and without grace I fell upon my bed to compose a witty response to her salutations. No mere words could ever truly convey the pure love in my heart for her, nonetheless I struggle towards that unattainable goal daily.
"As much as I love the greetings of morning's sun, all pales to the pure bliss I experience at the first message I receive from you." More sap and less witticism, but still an adequate (albeit only adequate!) response to her's.
Much to my dismay, dear journal, I had to put my mobile down and prepare for my day's trivialities. She stayed on my mind the entire time, but stating that is as obvious as stating capitalism doesn't work [I had to, sorry]. How my heart yearns for the day that I can collapse into her arms at the end of each day! Alas, this is not to be--not yet! I hold onto hope that the day will come to be!
The day progressed much as usual. The crisp ice, left over from yesterthaw, crunched underfoot as I strode, rather dejectedly as I had not heard from her yet, into my office building. A rather resplendent building befitting the treasures that are held within.
Normally, dear journal, I would write past this! Unfortunately I cannot, for not else has transpired as of yet.
As fun as that was, I couldn't write like that every single day. I would probably start laughing at myself from the pretentiousness of it all.
Anyways. Hope you all enjoyed that!
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