I got my first journal when I was six years old. My mum gave it to me and it had a teddy bear on the cover and a small lock with a heart on it and half of the pages were pink and the other half was blue. I wrote in it occasionally until I finished it when I was about eleven. Over the years I have finished a lot of journals. I’m not an everyday writer, more of a period writer. I get a period where I write quite a lot and then it can go months or years between “posts”. I wrote the most when I lived abroad for a year but I think that was related to not having a TV and therefore being a bit bored
I like the idea of being able to look back and remember what I’ve done but I find it utterly embarassing to read my own thoughts on a specific matter years after. I simply don’t want to re-live bad moments or sad thoughts (and let’s face it, it’s easier to write in a journal when you are feeling blue). Sure, I could just not re-read it but why keep a journal if not to get back to entries later on? Then I could just write things down and then throw it away but what’s the fun in that? Therefore the blog is such a great format. It has been more or less active for more than six years so far, and that is some kind of journal. It gives me what I want, an idea of what has happened, without the things I don’t like.
Lately I’ve also started a “One line a day” journal where I write something brief every day, mostly to remember Me Made’s first years later on. I lasts for five years and I can do what I like, compare from year to year what I did on a specific day. I think this might be my thing!