Throughout the day on most days, if my mind has a moment to spare, which is less likely on days that I am at work, I think of things that I want to write. I come up with ideas for a blog post, ideas for an essay, or I simply want to stop what I am doing and just write.

I was better about writing when I was in my early twenties. As an undergrad student, I would carry my journal in my bag so that I could write in between classes. There were times, if the lectures were boring and I felt confident that my printed notes or reading material would suffice, that I would write during class. It is probably why I never made any friends in my classes. I liked sitting alone in a corner where I could write, unless the class was actually interesting, of course.

Some of the things I wrote in my journal would make their way onto my old blog, the one I kept on MySpace (one of my biggest regrets in my life is that I blogged on MySpace instead of using a legitimate blogging site). I would translate my writings into posts that would make sense to others. I would translate them in such a way that I did not mind sharing. So much thought went into those posts. Sometimes, I would even include photographs or music or links. It felt fantastic!

I had more spare time back then, unless my week was crammed with exams. Even after I graduated and landed my first job, I wrote more than I do now. I continued to carry my journal with me and would lock myself in an office during my lunch break so that I could write undisturbed. Writing was my therapy. It was my drug. There were times that I felt crazy if I was unable to stop and immediately put my thoughts and feelings into words, onto paper.

I was also more creative back then and so full of ideas. Writing was my biggest creative outlet, but I also drew and made inspiration boards/collages. I also continued to hope to become even more creative. I had a guitar that I looked forward to learning to play, once my “study” time could be devoted to it instead of being devoted to earning a degree, and once I had enough money to pay for lessons guilt-free.

The point of all this is to say that I miss being creative. I miss journaling, I miss blogging, I miss drawing, I miss wanting to play an instrument, I miss letting my mind wander.

My journaling stopped because it became stupid. The things I wrote about eventually became superficial and writing was not very fulfilling. Then a certain someone read the damn thing and I stopped entirely, which was fine. Again, at that point, I wasn’t writing about anything significant.

Blogging. This. I became discouraged from blogging when the people whose blogs I read stopped posting. And my readers stopped reading. The feedback became nonexistent. I partly blame MySpace because that site became completely obsolete. I had no one to write to or write for. If no one was going to read my posts, it made more sense to keep a private journal alone, and well, you know what happened there.

The frequency of my posts dwindled. I completely ceased keeping a journal. I stopped wanting to write everything down. So many events went undocumented. They were only partially documented on Facebook. Only tidbits of my experiences captured in photos and brief captions or blurbs.

I stopped drawing. I felt that it was pointless, but what was really ever the point? Other than the fact that I enjoyed it? Somehow, that stopped being enough. Geeze, Daisy.

Well, I am going to write more. I am going to blog more. I am going to keep a journal again. I will write in it, I will draw in it, and I will take photographs of my entries and share them here or maybe on my Tumblr or maybe both. I own an amazing camera and would be a much better photographer if I actually used it more. I have a set of calligraphy pens, which I will learn how to use. I have a sewing machine, which I will also learn how to use. Maybe I will even learn how to play that damn guitar of mine. Finally.

The big move that I have previously written about is happening on Saturday. This past weekend, I found a desk that I really like and I plan to buy it once we have moved in. I cannot wait to have a desk again. It may well become the center of my universe, the place where I can unwind and release all my creative energy. I feel that buying this desk may be the most important catalyst for making me a creative gal once more.

Equally as important will be for me to STOP spending so much time online. I admit that I tend to look to Pinterest, Instagram, and Tumblr for creative inspiration, but I focus so much on looking without actually doing. Isn’t that absolutely silly? There should be less Facebooking as well. It’s time to return to documenting things in a worthwhile, thoughtful manner.

If anyone reads this, please hold me to these things. Ask me for a photograph or an update on life and my thoughts and my feelings and everything going on in my brain. Ask to see my handwriting. Ask to see something that I sewed. Do NOT ask me to play guitar for you. That’s bottom of my list and probably the thing I will be the worst at.

Have a perfect, sunshiny day and check back soon!


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