I’ve always glamourized the concept of journaling. I have multitudes of beautiful little blank books, and when I buy them, I always have romantic thoughts of my little book perched on my nightstand with my beautiful pen (generally a fountain pen with purple ink), where I scratch out my thoughts in perfect penmanship on a nightly basis before falling into a thoughtful deep sleep.
As you might imagine, this is not what happens.
Instead, what happens is that I buy the book with ambitious good intentions (further paving my road to hell), and then I struggle to find a thought worthy of inclusion. (I realize that I shouldn’t be intimidated by an overpriced leatherbound journal, but here we are.) When I finally find something profound to say, I’m further disappointed because I have the handwriting of a serial killer, and instead of the gorgeous script that I imagine, it comes out looking like something that’s included in a trial as a part of a psych eval. My scribble, however, was in purple ink — oddly the only thing that was in line with my expectations. Which is discouraging. I abort mission.
UNTIL I’m in another store that sells beautiful journals, and I think that all I really need is a fresh start with a new book. So I suck it up, and eagerly buy another one.
(Am I crazy? Absolutely!)
While cleaning out my office closet the other day, I discovered no less than 10 pretty blank books, each with 1-5 paltry pages of written content included. I haven’t bought one in a long while because blogging has taken over. Blogging is far more convenient, and even though it’s far less private, it doesn’t involve my handwriting.
There is a common thread between journaling and blogging. I only either journal or blog when I’m distressed, whether that’s work, life, relationships, etc. If anyone were to read my blogs to get an accurate impression of my life, they would think that I was an angry person who has a LOT of run-ins with customer services bureaus of any company that I come in contact with. Okay, so I admit that I can be a bit acerbic, and I DO have a penchant for customer service run-ins, BUT I don’t blog when I’m happy because I’m too busy enjoying life to document it.
So, as a challenge to myself, I’m going to try to blog more frequently, and when I have positive things to report. Don’t fret . . . there will always be rants (because this IS the Rantspot, after all), but there will be other blogs to counter them.
For my first topic, does anyone else love Pinterest? I’m an addict, and believe that Pinterest does what the concept of bookmarks and favorites originally set out to do. But with sharing. If anyone is interested in my inane posts about home decor, and my snarky original ecards, feel free to check out my Pinterest page. I’m just getting it off the ground, but it’s been fun so far.
Also? I’m starting an 8-week fitness challenge on the 15th with my good buddy Dre, of D3 – Dre’s Diesel Dome. Am I crazy? More on that later, but I will chronicling it on this blog and ChicagoNow with Brown Chicks. Feel free to follow me.