A place for my thoughts

When I was a pre-teen, I began to keep a journal.  I had just read the Diary of Anne Frank in school and I decided that I would keep a journal too.  At that age, I thought to myself that it would be good to keep a record of my life so that people could read about me 100 years from now after I was a well-established household name.  

However, I soon began to realize that this journal idea was not as important for the masses as it was for me.  My beginning journal entries are awful.  Poorly written, poorly thought out and, frankly, just painful to read.  But, nonetheless, they taught me how to express my self in writing.  

As I got older, my journals became more of a release for me and a way to work through my thoughts.  Especially during those tumultuous teenage years.  Since then, I've always found writing a cathartic exercise that, unfortunately, is often reserved for when I'm at my most upset.  

In college, I began to write in order to simply preserve my own memories.  When I'm an old lady, I want to be able to look back on my former years and remember them.  Journaling, I felt, was the closest thing to a time machine I could give myself for the future.

...But you know how it is in college.  You get busy, and my journaling was one of the first things cut.  Since then, it's been a sporadic exercise at best.

And now here I am.  Trying on this blogging thing for size.  The idea of blogging for others to read is a little strange to me.  I understand blogging events in your life so that your friends and family can keep up with all you do....but what about just your thoughts?  

Well, I don't know.  But, I guess I'm going to give this a shot.  Maybe, somebody who stumbles across all this ramblidge (my blog, my made up words) will take something away from it.  

I kinda doubt it, but either way, I'm happy to be writing again.