Carbon. in Whey and Sonic Screwdrivers.

I wrote my first entry in nearly four years. I’ve had lapses of journal-writing over the years, but this is by far the longest. By now, I’ve kept a carbon journal for most of my life. Without looking, I know my first entry was somewhere in the summer of 1998. To physically take pen to paper enters a very safe headspace. There’s the things we’ll say to others, but in the end it’s the things we say to ourselves that matters most.

That I stopped writing for four years says something in itself, something I’ll only privately acknowledge.

I forgot how centering it is to write. We’re spoiled by keyboards, and how quickly we can communicate ourselves. In addition to having to compensate for classically terrible handwriting, ink takes a LONG FREAKING TIME. By the time you finish one sentence, a billion more thoughts come pouring out. I don’t want to make a chore out of writing, but it’s an understatement that I need to write more.