In a way, this blog is an extension of the journal I’ve written since I was about ten years old. I was given my first journal for a birthday by my grandparents, and I’ve got through far too many since. My Dad too has written a diary from a young age, and without fail writes in it every day. He records the weather, comments on his flock of sheep, and mentions anything that has happened on the particular day. Often he proves his diligence by telling us what the weather was like precisely five years ago.
I love to write – it’s always been very cathartic for me. At first I wrote in my diary about things that I’d done, then during my early teens I poured out my emotions onto countless pages. Then for a while I only seemed to write when I had a problem that needed solving. Now, however, I write more about my plans for the next few days, and things I’d like to achieve. That suits me at the moment. It’s really important for me to unload everything spinning around in my head onto paper; it’s like mental tidying up. Otherwise things get too much, and I find it hard to concentrate and become easily angry (my poor boyfriend).
These days, I think journal writing is become increasingly less common. That’s a shame, really. However, perhaps the rise of blogs makes up for the decrease. More people than ever publish their thoughts, emotions and opinions online to share, and this is something I favour completely.