Inside our living room credenza, I have a clear plastic tub stuffed with old sh*t.
Every few months, I take it out and go through a weekend-long ritual.
I shuffle through photographs from the 90s, laugh at the pencil-thin eyebrows, and scan some choice shots of me and my friends from when we still had baby fat on our faces. Oh, all that pretty collagen! But what were those awful jeans? I share these on Facebook, then realize I already scanned and shared the same photos last year.
I read the college pile, most of it on ripped-out notebook paper with furled edges.
It contains letters from friends at other schools (Hope Wesleyan is great! I drank too much sex on the beach’s last night at the Canteen, and today my dorm mate told me, “Frankly, you were acting obnoxious and embarrassed yourself in front of all the guys.” I want to die)…
Pickup notes dudes wrote me in the campus gym, where I pretty much lived on the stationary bike (Hi, don’t stop pedaling! I see you in here alot. My name is Steve and I’d like to take you to dinner)…
An angry breakup note (See you when hell freezes over! Have a nice life — Steve)…
An intervention letter from freshman year (or Frosh year, as my school called it) from my best friend who lived across the hall: Laura — step back and look at what’s happening — Fred is being a dick, blowing you off, and copping out of being honest. He’s holding you back from better (i.e., Steve). Get out now, Laura.
(I needed that.)
…And typewritten letters from my parents, both apologizing that they might not be able to drive all the way to Connecticut to pick me up for Winter break. Wow, someone was a spoiled brat. (If you’ve ever met my parents, I don’t have to tell you this bit is from my dad.)
And then, the part that takes the longest. I start reading the journals.
I torture Steven by muting the TV every 15 minutes so I can read parts out loud.
“Turns out I wrote down everything we ate in Sicily. Wanna hear? First course: spoon of ricotta with urchin; bacala mash…”
“Check this out — I was afraid to introduce [EX-BOYFRIEND] to my friends because he didn’t trim his nose hairs.”
“OMG, listen to how miserable I was in 2003 when I couldn’t get you to commit.”
The journals are tragically intermittent. They take up 6 thick black spiral notebooks, and span from 1996 or so to 2009, when I gave up on pens and started journaling on 750words.com.
Almost every entry starts with, “I have nothing new to write about,” and yet almost every one has something priceless, something I can’t believe I almost didn’t write.
Records from Jury duty in 1997, showing how much the world has changed:
“Wow, everyone in here must be very, very important, because they’re all taking calls on their cell phones. Are we supposed to be impressed you have a cell phone?”
My daily gripes in 2005, showing little ways I’ve changed:
“I used my whole session with [my then-therapist] Emily talking about why I can’t get myself to make the bed till afternoon.”
Congrats to me: I now make my bed first thing every morning, without a second thought. I even make it by accident on days our housekeeper comes.
The same dumb common themes that weigh on me today.
I’ve written this sentence at least 3 times in every journal:
“I need to figure out my big idea. What can I write that will make me enough money to only fly First Class?”
A me I barely recognize (and want to shake):
“I know I shouldn’t have anything to do with him, because he’s married, but he says they only live together like civil roommates.”
Sign-of-the-times snippets, like this one from 2002:
“Girl at Intermix, trying on hat, to friend: ‘Am I so Cheryl Crow in this?’ FRIEND: ‘Yes, get it, you’re so Crow.'”
All kinds of moments I would’ve forgotten.
I’m resenting my best friend in the world for making me spend so much as a bridesmaid (itemized tally included), and for making me wear grey silk shantung, which shows sweat….I’m elated that scripts went over well in a writer’s meeting….I’m sheepish that I upgraded myself to Business Class while my boyfriend is sitting back in Coach. He tells me, understandingly, “You have your needs.”
….I’m hungry and shaky after having a Go Lean bar, and lamenting that my new antidepressants haven’t made me not hungry.
….I’m in jury duty, wondering whether one of the other potential jurors is truly paranoid or faking it to get excused, in this exchange:
LAWYER: “Have you ever been the victim of a violent crime?”
MAN: “People have tried to kill me on 12 to 15 occasions.”
LAWYER: “Can you give some examples of what they did to you?”
MAN: “Well, there was one time. Where the guy [Makes slicing line across neck]…He uh, you know. Tried to kill me. But the other ones, well, you know, I managed to elude them before they could do anything. You know, I’d see them in the shadows and get away by the skin of my teeth. Like one time I was pulling up to park in this space, and I saw someone, and so thank God, I chose to park elsewhere. Because he would’ve killed me.”
All these snapshots I almost didn’t get.
Because I thought I had nothing to write, or thought, “I don’t need to write this down, I’ll remember it.”
It kills me how many I’ve missed.
Every 20 pages or so, the date jumps by months and a new entry starts with an apology. “So much for my writing streak. Gotta get back to writing every day.”
At every stage of my life, I’ve had the notion that I’ve reached completion. That there won’t be anything special about today to look back on, because I’m now fully “me” and this is the way I’ll be twenty years from now.
WRONG.
Every day is worth writing about.
Even if all you write is how you have nothing to write about.
The way you write about something one day won’t be the way you write about that same thing another day.
I look at sentences I wrote and think, “I’d never come up with those words now.”
Every bit of writing is the result of a zillion variables — your state of mind, where you’re sitting, how you’re sitting, what you ate, what you dreamt, watched on TV, or read online — all coming together in a way it never will again.
It’s like a snowflake, except it doesn’t have to melt or get dirty and peed on.
(I hate snowflake analogies, but what else is there that’s not replicable — besides my husband’s spicy spaghetti pomodoro, which is based on a recipe but comes out a little different every time? )
So, in the words of me every 3 weeks of my life, “Gotta get back to writing every day.”
Let’s all do it. Who’s in?
I should write in notebooks, but my hand forgot how to write, so I’ll keep using 750words.com.
Now you.
Do you write every day? Do you keep your old writing and rediscover it every year or so?
Do you weep for the writing you didn’t do?
Are you going to write something today?
TELL ME IN THE COMMENTS.
I write almost everyday. In fact, I’ve written everyday for the last 15 years (from 6 year old to now, 21 year old)… I now own 112 notebooks but I’ve put 30 notebooks a year ago in the bin, which were Morning Pages Notebooks. It’s so good to write everyday ! I always joke that I’m a beaver because I “eat” paper by writing so much 😂
I think one of the reasons I love your stuff so much, Laura, is that I see myself in your writing and through your lens my idiosyncrasies seem charming and funny. When I go back and read my own writing (I’ve inconsistently forced myself to write in journals over the years) I cringe at my stupidity and unsophisticated self obsession. I admire the fact that you can lovingly look back at how you saw the world at different points in your life. Maybe I’m too tough on myself and maybe you’re just so fucking funny that everything is delightful when you say it.
OMG I love the old stupidity! What I cringe at is the idea that I may look back one day at the me I am now and cringe.
At every age — whether it’s 6 or 36 — we think we’re who we’re always going to be…and then, nope.
Will I one day be like, “I was such a putz when I was 85.” I should be so lucky, I guess.
omg, I weep for the writing that I did do and have thrown out as much of it as I could find. Glad to be rid of it. Thanks for the great essays, Laura.
I used to write a diary every day from the age of about 7 I think and then cut back to only when I had something interesting to note down and then cut back to never. I think a part of me craves it but I’ve been ignoring it. I loved this post and can’t wait to get back to it…Writing rocks. even if no-one else gives a crap about what I’m writing :). Thanks Laura!
Dear Laura,
what is a credenza?
Love, Matthew
Thank you for posting this – so many of my own journal entries also begin with “so I’m clearly not great at regularly writing” or some similar sentiment.
I used to live journal years ago, which was really interesting, since I began the journal to write privately, and ended up making friends on the site with people who began as anonymous strangers, and some became quite close friends. Along with that came a reason to write each day, as I’d log on and see all their posts about their own days.
I think some of it must have come down to that ubiquitous teenage sense of self importance about how profound and unique my thoughts/experiences were!
Thanks for sharing the above, particularly as I had no idea about 750words.com, which is so fabulous!
This is so beautiful Laura.
Thank you for sharing this with us.
I love being able to hear your story, and I imagine it’s inspired other to share their own, or at least journal more.
Perfect Saturday morning read for me.
Thank you!
Ha, I too am trying to build First Class seats all the timez into my business plans! So spacious, and when I get to sit there I feel like I’ve made it to the good life. Warm nuts and chardonnay in a glass.
This is so true about everyday being a different and fleeting perspective. I’m supposed to write every morning for this thing I’m doing. Miracle Morning. But I never have anything to say in the morning because I’m sleepy. Night time journaling could be better.
I’m almost inspired to write a journal by this post! But I have cramps.
I have 3-4 different journals, of life, drawings and heartache, written in my otherwise lovely twenties. I enjoyed writing so much, often at my bedside before sleep. Writing and musing over things, thanksgiving, summing up, planning.. it actually kept me sane. I’m sure of it.
When I found the man and expected my daughter it stopped. In the hospital a day after birth I wrote; So much have happened.. I have a beautiful daughter now.
Sorry, will have to write more later.
I never did.
I’m sure I was too happy.
Have had two blogs of 4-8 posts each, I’m ashamed. Thought of sharing, but the one interesting post (because I felt it to my core), is sadly but very fittingly in Norwegian.
Left my heart and zillions of quite fun and quirky comments in a net community, alongside my net friends.. until admins terminated the whole thing. I even lost my precious poems in the end. My saved files from the site, collapsed with my virused PC. Perpetual lament!
<3
Relate so hard, from spotty journals to 750words. (I am on a 13-day steak at the moment, thankyouverymuch.) I am very sensitive to the inequities of flight classes – how did that go over with the guy? Was he really okay with it?
Great post! I could almost smell the paper (and the yucky water).
I started writing several years ago–but as a notebook on my watercolour paintings. It quickly morphed into a daily journal–something I’d never done before. I stopped writing the year my parents passed away–I just did not have the time, but now I wish I had written during the year I was saying Kaddish–I think it would have helped and there’s all sorts of stuff I wish I could remember now.
I’ve been doing it spasmodically since then and so many entries start with “oh my god how much time has passed…” but I’m getting back to daily or every couple of days. And by hand, in a book, with a fountain pen (which is as close to painting with words as I can get).
This was gold. I told myself yesterday that if I got a lot of work done in the morning, I could write over my lunch. Didn’t happen. But I’ve been feeling the tug of writing again and your post is so timely. I love it! Was that truly a letter from your father? Hysterical. I think I need to check out 750words. Because as you mention, my hand seriously has no muscles left for writing. It would go into spasms if I had to take a college exam today. Well, maybe they even use a computer for exams now???
And as I read this, I’m thinking I need to start my work day writing. I have always tried to do it before bed, but it doesn’t work. I’m brain dead by that point.
I also must say that I’m so happy I met you at GKGC Live a few weeks ago (we sat at the same table and spoke about your eyelashes at the end of the day), because picturing your actions and hearing you speak while I read this only enhanced the experience.
Thank you for sharing. Here’s to writing more than I have!
Are we the same person? All of what you wrote is true about me. All those journals that I filled over the span of years, sometimes decades, going months at a time without writing, and apologizing (to who? to myself? to the journal) on the next entry.
I can safely say that as of this morning I am on my 14th day of writing, every day. And yes, it’s due to something else you wrote about: 750words.com. Seriously… where has that been all my life?
Thanks for the pep talk and walk down memory lane… makes me want to break out my old journals to see who I was crushing on in the 10th grade, and what minor high school drama was playing out in my life that was SO important and life/death. Makes me want to laugh and hug my former self. 🙂
I hope we are the same person, because I didn’t write any journals in 10th grade. Now I can enjoy yours as my own!
Glad you’re making use of 750words.com. It really makes it easy, and I love the done feeling when the banner comes up saying I’ve reached my 750 words.
Love your blog post title. That’s the first time I’ve seen the word pairing, “tarot bitchslap.”
Thanks, Laura! The way tarot talks to me, it’s often a bitchslap. It’s MUCH nicer to my clients. 😉
I always tell myself I should keep a regular journal, but it’s been sporadic over the years. Earlier this year, I bought a journal, but I realized I was using it to write notes instead of journaling!
Thanks Laura, your post has inspired me to want to actually journal, and not just write notes. And oh, I so miss my old hand-written letters! Lost a lot of them over time.
Cheers!
What I wish I had are the letters I wrote to everyone else! I’ve only mailed one letter in the past 10 years if not more, but I knew to make a copy of it before sending.
Yep, everyone has similar writing habits. I finally stopped writing stuff at the beginning like “sorry for the long gap” or “I should write more” because I kept getting annoyed at myself when I went back and read it. I wouldn’t have even known if I didn’t look at the date.
Then, in one journal of poems I decided not to put any dates because what I was going to write was ‘timeless’. (Now I wish I did. Dummy.)
I actually still write in notebooks. I like the idea of drawing the words. And I use blank pages now, with no lines, so I can do all kinds of crazy artsy stuff like draw pictures, write sideways, or write big words and use the blank space to draw attention. It’s fun for me. But I don’t end up writing a lot (takes longer.)
It’s funny you posted this now because I just recently was reading some of my old journals.
I have a bunch of epic dropouts, like when I was writing about my son’s birth, and said, “I’ll write the rest later.” And then never finished. 3 months later is the next entry.
Thanks for the juice.
Seth Godin says we should write a public blog every day, even if it’s in a place where no one sees it. It’s not for them, it’s for us.
Maybe I’ll start using 750words again.
But I still like my journals.
In fact, my latest one is made from waterproof paper (just in case that flood situation happens.) (Or I want to write in the shower. You can actually write with a pencil on it under water. Coolest stuff ever.) http://Www.Riteintherain.com
I believe Seth Godin. I did come up with unexpected material when I was forcing myself to blog every day.
But damn it takes so much work. I think I could do it every day, ongoing, if I turned off comments and didn’t try to write the extra email with it.
You’re inspiring me to start journaling again.
Curious, do you pause when you journal or do you do it “morning pages” style – just keep writing/typing without pausing until you fill your pages?
So looking forward to meeting you in Italy!
I go “morning pages” on it. 750words.com prods you to keep going, because it’s timing you and counting the words. But I think I’ve always made an effort to keep going without pausing, since it forces you to fill the space with whatever comes out. In conversation, that’s not such a plus. But on the page!
You get all kinds of stuff that you’d never have thought of if you were editing yourself.
This was so good m!
So true. Every word of it. I’ve found plenty of old writing that I don’t even understand any longer and probably sounds better to me today than it did when I wrote it.
I also have old notes from meetings where a friend and I were bored. These are a total mystery, because half the conversation was on the other person’s paper.
This is sooo good. It really IS so cool to look back at that stuff. It’s like someone else wrote it. And especially good so cause looking back to me is like a couple of months since I have no memory. I don’t write much but every couple of days I make sure I pop at least something into my DayOne journal – even if it’s just sending a pic from my phone I took that day of my kids homework or my dog.
Oooh, I’d never heard of this DayOne app – I’m going to check it out. Thanks for the hot tip!
I love the observation “Every bit of writing is the result of a zillion variables”, and at the risk of repeating myself one too many times, I can tell you what your big idea is, the one that will allow you to fly First: write Mugging Money. This post provides plenty of material.
You really think so, huh? OK, let’s discuss.
OMG I just love taking the trip with you Laura. Always a surprise, and the words are the curtain. <3 😉
The words are the curtain? Or are they the magic carpet? And do those match?
I have tried, periodically, to journal over many years. There are SO many entries that all start with some variation of “I really need to write more often” and yet I don’t.
Even my old online journal was like that from time to time.
I know it would benefit me though, so hopefully this will be the kick in the butt that I need.
Do it. Go back and read those sparse entries and you’ll be so glad you wrote them, you’ll create more. Works for me.
If I could travel back in time, I’d go up to my teenage self and rip all my journals out of her hands (from age 6 – 15) and do whatever it took to convince her NOT destroy them in a fit of hormonal rage.
Thank goodness I started blogging online so I have some of my young and gross writing on record. I’ve always been a sporadic journal-er, but I made a goal this year to have at least one sentence, drawing, or note every day. So far, so good!
Oh no! Teenage Cara, don’t do it! What a crime.
I like that we got to see the evolution of your entire relationship with Steve in just a few lines.
That was pretty much it, right there! I was never into him. He couldn’t wrap his head around that, he thought he was hot shit.
Like you, I tell myself I should write more but fall off the bandwagon a lot. I also prefer writing on paper but am so not used to it anymore that my hand hurts after about a page. Wah.
My hand is so lame now! I use that word literally. It’s really incapable of creating a legible word. I can’t believe I used to write school papers by hand.
A literal shit storm! Amazing.
When I was in college my apartment got broken into and every valuable thing I owned was stolen. I was sad and freaked out for a brief moment and then…liberation! Poof, a fresh start. It felt sooo good.
All this while I was at my therapist’s office! It was a delicious bite of serendipity.
I know, if only I hadn’t had sentimental stuff in the basement, I would’ve been glad to lose most of what was down there. It was that one box. That one box that I’d haul up here every year and go through. I want that back. The rest? Thank you, Chubb.
lovely lovely post, thanks for sharing.:)
Thanks, Kelsey!