Journaling June: This Is Why I Hate Writing Challenges

I hate days like today. It started so promisingly. My morning chores and hygiene routine went of without a hitch. The commute into work was so smooth I don’t remember it—I was zoned out and on autopilot. And best of all, at no point did I play out one of my anxiety fantasies. Anxiety fantasies are farcical situations about random things that have nothing to do with me at all.

(for instance, being brutally attacked by a police officer, a former girlfriend’s brother no less. the resulting court case is so devastating to the law enforcement community that all police, everywhere, are relieved of duty. this causes society to breakdown. civilization is reduced to a mad max dystopia.)

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Journaling June: The Right Write Stuff

Hand writing my journal entry.

I’ve almost bled my current pen dry.

Oh. Right. You’re reading this on on screen. Sorry. A little background will help. I handwrite all my journals. There is something satisfying about scratching out my thoughts on paper, something ritualistic about it. I’m sure I’m romanticizing it by giving it an almost religious quality, but I’m a writer. We are prone to the flights of fancy. Give me a break.

I’m always amazed that I handwrite enough to empty so many pens. I shouldn’t be. I mean, I write every day. I fill a moleskine notebook each month. I guess it’s surprising because for the longest time, starting in college, I used my computer to write, and so a pen would last years. Hell, a pen would have lasted my whole college career if I hadn’t lost them.

(or found one we liked better. and then another. and then another . . .)

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