So. We got back and then Monday I took my daughter to Staples because I wanted to buy a journal.
For years, maybe more than 10? I consistently kept a journal. It was a specific kind of journal, one I had seen in a magazine in the 1990's, and one that had to be ordered.
For much of that time, I would keep a concurrent notebook with me, where I wrote down song lyric ideas and also did some CBT "homework" when I was stressed or upset about something.
Then I stopped the official journal and wrote in many many other journals without thinking too much about it, until this week. People would give me journals, sometimes very nice and expensive ones, leather bound, special paper, etc. and so of course I wrote in those, but there was something about this green "Record" journal that never left me.
Over the years, I thought I saw the exact same one at Staples, but didn't/wouldn't buy it because...I had others, why buy this one? etc. But lately I've realized that I can hardly remember what happened yesterday let alone last week and why is that? And I wanted a record. A place where I could put some thoughts, some things I've done, etc.
So. I found a very similar journal, only larger. I got it. My friend in NY had just given me some really beautiful moth stickers and I put one on the cover and started writing again on Tuesday, October 9, on what would have been my father's 86's birthday. And if felt good, like picking up a thread again. Of course, I thought--do I really need to be doing MORE writing? The blog, the tweets, the memoir, the screenplay and now, again, the journal? But so far it feels good.
Then, I got up the courage to find the last of my former green journals--all in a crate in a closet because I wanted to see when I stopped writing. It was in March 2001, either on my trip to London or shortly after I got back. I left a significant number of pages blank, which is not really like me, so it forced myself to think about why I stopped.
I took a mental/emotional fall and felt like I had to devote myself to my CBT homework. The forces of fkery were too great--my father had basically declared war on me, my finances were frightening and it seemed like my dreams of succeeding in music had gone up in flames. I felt deeply betrayed and manipulated and...I guess angry is the word I'm looking for.
This morning I was thinking of taking that old journal and trying to sort of "catch up" write a bit, short condensed posts mainly stating facts about who what where when how, to pick up the thread to 2018. Even if my daughter has no interest in reading this, it would (I'm thinking) give me some peace of mind.
My great Aunt Ethel (memorialized in the song "She Has Gone to Heaven") kept a record, but it was mostly of her travels, the what/when and data about her health--how much she paid for this operation, to this Dr. this hospital--fascinating in and of itself, but no real data into her internal, private thoughts. I have her diaries and *hope* to one day get it all in order.
Not sure if my daughter will do the same. So far she does not like to write much. But, that could change, of course. Just trying to let her be her own person, even though I have sort of encouraged music and fashion.
Anyway, my friend in NY loved the dress I had made/was wearing and said she'd pay for one, so I have one almost done for her. I have to go and buy some fabric dye because I did overdye the fabric. "Staff of one" is my awareness.
My friend did not seem to buy my interest in painting. It's definitely hard to have more than one creative endeavor. But, she's right. I do have this fabulous maker studio now and so...make away!
And music is just such a quagmire. Even though--I can now play "You've Got a Friend" on piano AND sing it at the same time, which is honestly, an achievement. I am not playing the same notes that Carol Kind plays. I'm playing what Waz taught me. And it's fun, and I changed the melody a bit here and there, which I like. But Waz is right, I need to practice with a metronome.
Anyway, it's a day off for my kid here, and she wants me to dye her hair a color. Like purple. We will have to see. It seems like a big project and her hair is so beautiful and natural, but...not what she wants.
I do have a gig tomorrow at the farmers market!! I think it's the last market for the season (?) or near last. Gone cold here all of a sudden, have a great week, until next time.