i'm not blogging because it's my new year's resolution or anything. i've blogged before. it's been pretty random and chaotic, a microcosm of my life. only this time, i'm going to try to keep it all in one place. i find random writings everywhere: other websites, saved on my laptop, on bits of scrap paper, or on the backs of essays.
i've always had the internal debate of writing vs. typing. should i be using an electronic device to express myself, when i know the pen and pad is best? it already seems like it's too late, as i've already gone this far. i don't want to lose the skill of handwriting, so instead, i think i'll document my life and such through typing, and i'll make an effort to use handwriting for personal correspondence. the good ole paper will take over the email.
i miss letter-writing. and letter folding. and waiting for a response. and seeing what stationary was used. and smelly pens. and a.c.r.o.n.y.m.s. and secret codes. and calloused hands. and pen(wo)menship.
help me in that area.
i'll bet that most of my blogs will be about dreams. that's what most writings have been about lately. it just intrigues me so.
last night, i can't remember any of my dream, but it all feels so familiar. i can see it in my mind's memory, everything that happened in my dream. but for some reason, i can't translate what happened into words. words that i can't speak, nor type, nor write. i can't even put the thoughts into tangible thoughts. i just feel what happened in my dream and know it was so. that always seems to happen.
it's like this: i'm trying to dig for those artiffacts, but i don't even know what i'm diggin' for. i just know something's there, and someone'll find it one day.