#personal journal

[thetypewriterdaily]

sometimes it feels like you’re going nowhere — just turning in the same spot over and over again, until you’re dizzy with doubt, confusion, and overwhelm. but all this spinning is a part of the process. the way clay doesn’t resist the wheel and trusts the motion, you can, too. so when life puts you in a loop, be gentle with yourself, and remember that even the clay spins in circles before it becomes 🌀🥣💌🫧

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[hmcscolumbia]

Archival work is so intimate. Here is the photograph of an 18 year old boy who would die aboard a Canadian ship in World War Two. Here is a series of telegrams between his family, sharing condolences and following his remains as they travel by train to Vancouver. Here are the patches cut from his uniform. Here is proof that he was born and he lived and he died, all lying here in this filing box. Yes, I’ll scan the photograph of you in your uniform. Yes, I’ll preserve it digitally forever so that you might be found again and again, over and over, until we all join you in the ground.

[21stbrighteststar]

I’m reading Project Hail Mary and I know that when I see Rocky speaking in music notes I should just make noise in my head or something but I also studied music for like 7 years and just automatically started counting the rhythms

Rocky is not saying “1 2 and 3 and 4 and” he is making noise

[the-bar-sinister]

For a few years in my 20s I was homeless. Not living on the street, but bouncing around several places back and forth by the grace of friends and (unfortunately) family.

During that time I lived out of about 2 backpacks.

Eventually, I started renting a room in a woman's house, boardinghouse style. This went on for a year.

During that year, I never unpacked. Never accumulated things to decorate my space, or even just to add to the space. Didn't buy any furniture or clothes. Money was tight enough that food was an issue, but even so the real reason I didn't buy anything was the same as when I was homeless.

It was just easier to be able to pack everything into two bags, since I never knew when I'd need to get up and GO. I never wanted to add the friction of inconveniencing someone who might otherwise give me a place to stay by having something bulky - or heaven forbid unnecessary - that I needed to take with me. It was just me, my clothes, and my laptop.

It's been 8 or so years since I've had uncertainty about where I was going to live, and I still find it hard to accumulate stuff. To buy furniture. To buy decorations.

I don't even think about it, it's just instinctive.

I'm only writing about it now because I was cleaning today, the beautiful apartment I share with my partner - and it's full of stuff. Stuff I love, but stuff that will inconvenience us when it's time to move.

And I realized it still makes me anxious. It's still the reason why I hesitate to buy 'stuff'. Even if I don't consciously.

I hope one day I won't be anxious. I hope one day I'll forget I was ever anxious about it at all.

[somewhere-dreaming-her1]

Ever since I was a child, I’ve wanted to be a writer. I realized early on that I was good with words — good at storytelling. So I decided that I wanted to become a writer, to tell my story, my voice, and my life journey.

But after life happened, that quiet dream was long forgotten.

And yet, here I am.

Sometimes I feel discouraged. I feel like things are not what I expected them to be. This is not what I once dreamed of. I feel like I should have written a book by now.

But little by little, I’ve grown an audience. It’s not much, but it’s there.

Just because there aren’t thousands or millions of people reading my work doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter. If a piece of my writing touches even one person’s heart, in whatever form it may be, it still matters.

In whatever form or way, it will always matter to me.

That is the reason I started writing, even without experience or formal knowledge of writing. I write because I have a story to tell the world.

If one person reads something I wrote and it means something to them, in whatever way it may be, then that is already enough for me.

I don’t need applause to prove that what I have is worthy.

What I write always comes from my heart.

And if I’ve connected with just one heart somewhere in the world, then that is enough for me.

[raining-tulips]

Take what the water gave me

[thatpollguy]

Did you write an entry in a diary/journal today?

Yes

No

I can't remember

Voting ended onJan 13