Seven Thousand Pages

Yesterday, I reached seven thousand pages in my personal journal. I am near the end of my fortieth volume.

My first journal entry was on April 20, 1976. I was 18 years old. I have kept it up for 37 years.

Why have I kept it up?

Number 1. I am a writer. Writers write. It’s what writers do.

Number 2. We have a choice: expression or depression. I choose expression. Or it keeps choosing me.

Number 3. A journal is a place to practice with few negative consequences.

Number 4. It’s history. It is for my children and grandchildren. I hope it will be of value to them someday. Someday.

Though at times I have ripped pages out of my journal, it is mostly an intact record of my adult life. A record of my woes and joys, of trials and triumphs, of miracles, of my ever changing perspective.

Some of it is self-enamored drivel. I know that. But I forgive myself for that.

It is a pathway. It is both a method to relieve my madness and to relive my madness. And happiness. It works. It has been worth the effort.

I only wish I had written more.

P.S. This is not an April Fool’s joke.

One thought on “Seven Thousand Pages

  1. I come from a journal family, too. I am currently compiling my parents history. Gratefully they kept journals, lots of them, so it makes it easier. As I read them, I get this panoramic sweep of their lives and my life. When I listen to music as I work on it, it's almost like a movie in my head and brings me to tears and laughter. What a great gift this will be for their posterity. It helps keep mortality in perspective, too.

    Jay and I also did one for my dad's folks and my mom's folks. That said, I want to make sure I write my own and don't leave that task to anyone else. Mine will certainly be smaller.

    I'm glad you are starting a new blog. Love your writings. It's fun to keep track of your family in your Salt Lake adventure through facebook postings.


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