come in.

     For years, I have loved writing my life out on paper. I have journal after journal, each pertaining to a particular place in my life. Some of them are more like daily itinerary's while others are the deepest most inner-workings of my mind and heart. I suppose there is no right way to journal.
     I find that I regret every memory I didn't physically write down. I'm not sure if it is because reading them "jogs" my memory and takes me back to a place I had forgotten, or if it is the instant satisfaction of seeing my hand write out each detail. I think it's absolutely romantic to read someones handwritten thoughts. It takes you to that place, that moment that was so important to their being, almost hearing their voice speak the words as you read them. You can touch the pages that they touched and instantly, you can feel their energy come through those pages as strongly as if it were your own. Tell me another way to really feel and understand someone. I think that takes the cake.
     Even tho I would much rather write all of these occurrences in leather-bound books with thick aromatic pages, I've found it hard to actually write as much as I would like in the realm of motherhood. And while I have little time to write, blogging on the go, may just be my best option.
     So here it goes. My thoughts are very .... eclectic, with no rhyme or reason. There is no preparation, no well thought-out ideas to build on. Just my gypsy soul spilling out into a seemingly mad smorgasbord of thoughts.

"The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible."  ~Vladimir Nabakov