Beginnings

I can't believe I'm starting a blog/journal/diary again.  Not to be boring and predictable, but I was the kind of young girl who would rush out to buy a Hello Kitty notebook from the nearest stationery store when in the midst of a sudden inspirational burst. 

I'd sit down at my chipped white painted desk and scrawl out pages (this isn't as dedicated as one might think, the pages were usually tiny and my handwriting quite on the large side), and I'd write and write.  This would only last a few days at most, and the journals were then tucked away in dusty corners- I was a messy girl 90% of the time, I seldom had any urge to clear up the mounds of tossed clothes and teetering piles of old books- very rarely would I get bursts of dangerous cleaning storms.  Same for religion- that came in despondent moments while living in Astoria.  Same goes for yoga and diets.  You can sense much about my character from this.

But I digress.  I haven't really written in years.  Surprising for a girl once declared 4th most likely (out of five) to be the next Shakespeare in her middle school graduating class.  Note that our graduating class consisted of maybe 60 or so people, and that ought to tell about my writing ability.  :)

Blogs are so ... narcissistic in a way.  I don't know who's going to take the time to read what is likely to be a huge mound of self pity or a dazzling flash of ego inflation.  I guess I'm just lonely again, and this is the closest to social interaction I'm willing to go for.  Plus, I just want to write.

Writing is really the only thing I was pretty decent at (I'm better at reading), and I'm in one of those contrary moods where I want to defy that horrible dinosaur of an English teacher that made me silence my pen for these years.  I exaggerate, of course, nothing but my own hand stilled the pen.  But it was part of the reason I suppose...

My boyfriend says I dwell too much on the past, and it is so very true.  I do want to get over that, I do want a bright new future, but I think here perhaps I'll try yet again to quietly pick over my life so far.  I've made many beginnings, oh so many, that if all my hasty beginnings of diaries, friendships, and journeys were to be gathered in a pile, it would be about the size of a four story building... but I want to try again.

Surely making a start is better than not trying at all.  I hope the patience of paper will beckon me, and keep me this time.