A Little Writing

I love the feeling of paper with ink on it. The texture from the pages, the sound it makes as I turn each page, even the look of the crinkled paper and the smudges from a hand brushing against it. Or the dirt smudge from a thumb that has pressed and held a certain page open for a long period of time as though a certain part has captured me on that page. I know a page is important when it is dirty, which is probably the only time you can say that about something important.

Something about it gives me chills
Something about it feels right

Something about it calms me

Something about it is peaceful

Something about it makes nothing else matter

Something about touching each page, turning it slowly over in my hand allowing my fingertips to brush lightly along the indents of scattered lines twisting upon the page. Something about it, is powerful.

These pages contain memories, feelings, thoughts, ideas, some good, some bad. Some smart and some dumb. Some mature, some--most--filled with angst. But always doubt, always uncertainty, because there can always be another way that nobody else has yet seen. Doubt and uncertainty are not the same I would associate with angst. They are the doubt and uncertainty of all questions and conundrums that a person may happen upon in thought. They lead a person to other possibilities. They keep a person questioning, wondering, and ever curious. Something I never hope to lose. These start in February 2010 and the top journal dates to the present date, nearly done. My goal: a library, of all my thoughts from a foolish boy, to a foolish man. For as long as I live.

We are humans, we don't have the answers to anything, we only presume to.