July 8, 2011

book journals

Good afternoon (if you’re in the States), otherwise hello to you and the green grass you’re walking on or perhaps good evening to you and the sparkling stars above you. I just came home from a nonsensical test albeit logical might be the only word to describe that course. Thought I did enough considering that an unwelcoming surprise on a frosty issue - which I have been avoiding of late - came in when I made my way to the exam hall.

So I thought I’d cheer myself up especially that the scorching sun giggled at my misery. A minute away from the hall I walked into White Rabbit (where I first saw book journals). To kick off (perhaps) a future collection of my own book journals, I purchased Nancy Drew’s Mystery Stories #8. Just because mom loves Drew and I just need to embed sentimental value on it. The cashier thought I made the perfect choice and I replied saying I just love the whole idea of a book journal.

“I write because words have power to change and shape us, to express what seems at first glance inexpressible. I write for the joy of watching a word picture develop like a photograph in a darkroom pan. I write because if the words build inside me I’ll pop a blood vessel. I write because I understand why God created words,” Cynthia Ruchti. An old friend of mine recently applauded my writing to be inspiring. Words of encouragement always help diminish self-doubt. I used to disregard myself as a writer because there were more loopholes than perfection - to convey most of the substances, which linger in my system without having to lose its authenticity. That is hard. After a few rounds of assurance, I thank you for your uplifting words.

I write because words have the ability to generate sight, hearing, taste, smell and touch. I write for the serenity it brings upon me. I write because I wish to inspire like how words have had on me. I write because I feel that words reduce the gap between mankind and its Creator.