I don't journal. This has always been a source of constant pain, like a rough pebble in my shoe, ever grating. Without a regular record, I don't know important things, like when exactly I started my menses (I do know that my dad announced it at the dinner table beaming just as proudly as when the Lion King introduced Simba, while my little brothers groaned, forever losing their appetite for stewed tomatoes). I can't remember when my kids got their first tooth, or their reaction when they tasted their first circus peanut. There is no record of my first and most recent kiss. Disgusting! Not the kisses, but the lack of evidence proving that it happened.
After just reading the book, These is My Words, I became motivated to do some journaling. But I heard once that insight doesn't motivate one to action. Behavior motivates action. So, I'm jumping on the "blogging bandwagon" and here I am. Despite not having ANY time for it, I am bound and determined to write something every so often. Yes, blogging may finally be the way to write the journal I've so desperately neglected. No one may ever read this (actually, I highly recommend that people don't), but it will be here, for better or worse.