On July 12, 1989, I wrote my first journal entry. I was 19 years old, working at Interlochen Arts Academy, a fine arts summer camp for kids ages 8-18. I had a lot of free time, sitting around watching orchestral rehearsals, play rehearsals and dance rehearsals. So I started to write. Once the words were written, they were almost never re-read (aside from the need to craft a few alibis), the covers were closed, the volume was filed away and the next journal was started. They have spent the last 25 years in a storage tub and for the the last 20 years, that tub was in the back of the loft at the lake house.
I thought 25 years was enough time and distance to read them. For the most part, the early journals are poorly written, even more poorly spelled and very very angry. A lot of people and things were “stupid assholes” and “dumb bitches.” I am slowly reading them and creating a series of based off of them. I like the idea of posting what I wrote 25 years earlier with a scan and a transcript and any explanation that I may need to provide. I’ll even scan some pages to show you the spelling errors.
These journals have me thinking that I should start writing them again, on paper with a pen. I have volumes and volumes of paper journals and digital transcripts when I switched to an online journal, but I think I am going to take it old school again. It is more personal, it is not written with an intended audience or even better, they are written knowing that no one will ever read them. They are honest, incriminating, freeing and therapeutic.
Here are my journals, I hope you like them.