At the start of this year I began a new journal, thinking I would definitely fill it up by mid-year. Instead I’m maybe 40 pages in and wondering why I don’t make it a consistent habit.
I mean, I would love to look back on the clusterfuck of 2020 and read, in my own handwriting, what I was doing and thinking. There’s something a bit romantic about hand written stuff, tell me you wouldn’t rather have a personalized birthday card rather than an e-card.
But aside from the fact I haven’t had to hand write long form consistently since high school, and we’re not talking about how long ago that was, I think I’m just out of habit.
When I sit down to journal my mind immediately goes to all the things I am grateful that I accomplished (like today: laundry, grocery shopping, new license plate on the truck) and those things I have to write down so I don’t forget to do them (renew my passport, fold the laundry, give the dogs a bath).
So I get all my thoughts out on those things instead of my thoughts on life. How I feel, what’s frustrating me, what brings me joy, what I anticipate next in my life… you know, the good stuff.
It’s not that the mundane stuff is unimportant, but in a world where we have The Price is Right does anyone really need to know that it was $3 for a can of pineapple so I just bought pineapple juice instead?
As I work on my new house it’s always a balance between the major and the mundane. For example:
- I bought LED lightbulbs so I can actually see the rooms I’m renovating. Boring!
- I need to measure the first floor square footage so I can shop around for hardwood flooring. Boring!
- I’m testing paint colors for the exterior (which needs a lot of work). Major project.
- I’ve started to work on the landscape plan, cutting back some bushes and planning the fencing. Major project!
Each of those things I can write about, I just need to get out my pens and journal and do it!
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