I’ve always hated writing. Hated it with a passion. I still do. My mother used to say that someone who loves reading as much as I do should love to write; but I don’t.
I’ve written quite a bit, though, for someone who hates writing. The thing is that I’ve always been extremely sentimental and love hearing stories from my parent’s and grandparent’s childhood. I assume my children will also want to hear stories from before they were born. So for several months I thought about starting a journal.
My mother-in-law gave me a leather journal for Christmas 2002. Around that time I realized (through reading other’s journals and blogs) that you don’t have to write every day. I began keeping my journal January of ’03. After several months of journaling by hand my husband (a complete computer fiend) started suggesting a weblog. I loved the idea of being able to search my journal; that was about the only drawback with the handwritten one. I’ve been online since the beginning of this year, and I don’t think I’ll ever go back. I try to keep my journal about me and my family; but I’m continually impressed by those bloggers who are such great writers. I’ll never have anything published, but I enjoy knowing that I don’t have to rely on my memory for special moments.
Maybe one day I’ll type in that first year of journaling.