Small events that can make all the difference.....


This morning I was rooting through a box full of papers and miscellaneous junk looking for my darned ouac website password. I guess I wanted to see if any of my applications had gone through, or even if *gasp* I had miraculously been accepted.
Well, I finally found my password, and I regret to report that I was not accepted...yet. Of course not yet. Offers don't come in until April. But at least I wasn't refused! yet.

Anyway, while on this search I came across my highschool writer's craft notebook (as is displayed on your left:). It wasn't lost or anything- I've been looking at various little passages over the years- but I was pleasantly surprised to come across it. Being as bored as I am, alone at home during the day, I decided to open 'er up and have a look at my futile, juvenile attempts at writing.
Again, I was pleasantly surprised to find that some of my stuff wasn't half as bad as I might have once thought.
This realization has got me thinking. I wonder why I don't write anymore, and where the passion I seemed to have for writing got lost.

The book is filled, from cover to cover, with random thoughts, wildminds, writing assignments from school, poetry and memories from highschool through to my first two years of university. Some life changing events and feelings are captured in doodles, little notes and poems, and the fact that I've ceased to record my life this way is a little bit of a downer. It makes me wonder why and where I stopped, and also if I have the potential to start this up again. I'd like to, I know that. But the question is, will I?

A couple of years ago, when I first moved in with Paul, I bought a journal that had my favorite sort of life mantra on the cover. Today I am taking it out for the first time since I unpacked it and placed it on the bookshelf when we moved here 2 years ago. There are four entries in it from 2003, which are the typical, personal, and embarrassing journal type entries. But I think from now on, I'm going to write other things in it. Not just thoughts about my life, but thoughts about life in general. Descriptions of things I see and hear and of things I find touching and beautiful.

The thought of this task is a little daunting. I don't believe much in my writing, but as I discovered today, by reading my old work, it's more important to just get it down on paper; the polishing can come afterwards. So, to encourage myself and my abilities, I'm going to add another line to the mantra. Write as though you are a capable and talented author.

You know, I never considered myself the type of person who could really write. I mean the type who loves words and creating stories. But lately, through various seemingly insignificant events and signifiers, I feel as though it may be something that I am supposed to do. Perhaps by reviving my writer's notebook, I will be setting in motion the events that will lead me to become a writer in the future. One never knows what effect these small things will have in the long run, but I guess that's what makes the future so exciting. Life would be boring if it was all planned out and completely predictable, wouldn't it?