Monday, January 19, 2009 at 1:27 a.m.
What is meant to be private?
Anything?
I am beginning to see that nothing is.
By living a life in which I must have secrets, I must be doing something wrong.
And so my mind wanders, as it so naturally does, to the place of wild possibilities.
A journal.
The heavy shoes of my mind have found this thought, this polka dotted secret that lays before me.
And they stop.
"What if..." they begin to ask, "what if we could take this secret, this little book filled with pages and pages of things unsaid, and make it seen?"
And so my mind stops awhile to think on this blossom of a thought.
Should it be done?
Do I have the courage to lay bare all the ramblings and secrets that I ever wrote in one tiny book?
If so, what does it take...
To publish a journal.
