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Lately I've been doing all my writing in my personal diary. There's some kind of connection between handwriting and creativity. I seem to blossom with idea's when I hand-write in my journal. That's where all my stories and opinions have been going. I thoroughly miss BLOGGING so I'm here today, right now, in this hallowed land of words. **giggles**

I don't remember at what age I knew I loved writing. I remember in the 4th grade, my Language Arts teacher, Miss Elly Tepper, conducted a weekly journal session. It would take place right after lunch recess. She'd shut off the lights and start a meditation to calm us down to get in "the zone". For some, this exercise was challenging. Some folks didn't know how to calm down, didn't know how to be silent and sit still. For me, it was an absolute treat. What thrilled me is the power I had to write about anything I wanted to. Fiction or reality, it was all up to me. I admit that I embellished the truth a lot in those days and probably created more drama in that composition book than any 4th grader then. At the end of the exercise, we'd turn our books into Miss Tepper. She'd read the journal entries, make a few comments with her red pen, then give them back to us the following week.

My mother encouraged me from a young age to keep a daily diary. I have volumes and volumes of my journals to pass on to my posterity. It is quite an event when I pull out the journals I kept when I was a teenager. The vocabulary I used as a teenager is absolutely horrendous. I didn't curse on paper. What I'm talking about is the type of slang words and phrases that I used as a teenager. The terminology was weird and at this point in my life, I just don't find the humour or logic in my selection of slang phrases. I'm sickly amazed at the tone of my entries. I was so boy-crazy! **giggles** Even though I was such a tomboy all through grade school and the seventh grade, eighth grade found me blossoming into a young lady. My diary entries detail a school girl with a brand new crush every single day. I'm almost sure that my mother insisted I keep a journal so that she could sneak and read them to know what's going on in my world.

My childhood and teenage years were spectacular, void of any real drama. Having such a solid foundation of happiness and joy prepared me for the struggles that were ahead of me in adulthood.

Through my journals I'm able to revisit some of the darkest days of my life. That era was the post-teenage years on up until probably 30. Between 18 and 30 was an absolute challenge. Age 18, I was raped. I pressed charges and endured two trials in front of a jury of my peers. The first trial ended in a hung jury. The second trial set my attacker free. I married at age 21 and endured the most difficult heartbreak ever. The problems in that marriage started early on. Things just were never right between he and I. We were separated a couple years after marriage then finally divorced when I turned 28. My journal details every dark day and builds the anticipation for a brighter day.

I'm thoroughly convinced that my posterity will revel in the emotional narratives written into each and every page. The journal chronicling 2007 reveals a woman beginning a total-life-makeover where I had since re-married, kicked the tobacco, alcohol, etc. to prepare myself for a spiritual awakening. Awaken I did, along with my husband. It has been, by far, the most eye-opening experience EVER and I cherish it dearly.

Here I am today, my journals are less exciting, almost monotone yet filled with my most intimate thoughts and emotions. It's value is invested in the future. The ones that will benefit from my innermost feelings, my childrens childrens children, will connect with me from beyond mortality and see in to my life with perfect insight. These journals, as are these blog entries, are for my children.