When I was a child, I had both a diary and a journal. The diary was created at nine years old; it contained childish thoughts, feelings, and daily ramblings all about my friends, teachers, and a particular boy I had a major crush on at the time!
Three years later, I wrote in something akin to a journal, based on my family's summer vacation in England, Italy, and France. Straightforward and relatively unemotional, it was filled with actual places we visited and what we did there. But I found out it served another function: years later when I reread my journal's entries out loud to my family, we all agreed that it was such a fun evening reentering all those interesting travel sites––a true memento.
These days, if I were to write a diary it would probably be a combination of the two earlier formats. However, now being an author, there would also most probably be a lot more physical descriptions, details of my inner thoughts, observations, and ruminations. Furthermore, because of my professional calligraphy experience, there might even be some swirling letterforms surrounded by scribbled non sequiturs. My observations might be anything from watching my cat stretch out on his back, his legs and paws suspended up in the air as he sleeps to some inner thoughts of happiness, frustration, annoyance, or contentment.
Hey, I just realized something! If I added this new, extensive memoir into my life, when would I actually have time to write books, edit, read, promote, and be with my family and friends
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