J: Journal

April 11, 2015

For as long as I can remember, one of my new year resolutions every year, except perhaps the last couple, has been to keep a daily journal. I would buy a new diary, and sometimes, even a nice pen, in the hope that these would inspire me to write everyday. I’d succeed in keeping the resolution – till about the third week, or if I was extremely fastidious, till February. 

At times I would manage a little longer, with sporadic entries here and there, perhaps upto June. And then, like my other constant, top-of-list, every year resolution, brushing teeth at night (no, I still don’t, please don’t judge me), I’d fall off the wagon, and completely give up. Hey, at least for this one, I wasn’t buying a new brush and toothpaste. Finally, some sense crept in, and I stopped buying diaries. If I felt the urge to write, I’d pick up some other pretty notebook I had bought (Hi, I’m Shub and I’m a stationery addict) and write. 

I might have earlier thought that the word journal has something to do with journey, but it doesn’t. It would be pretty cool if it did. You are recording your journey through life, after all. But apparently, it comes from the Latin diurnalis, which means daily. 

Keeping a daily journal is remarkable, I think. I’m trying to blog here everyday for a month, and I’m barely managing to meet the deadline each night. So I’ve stopped trying so hard to record the daily life. What I have begun instead, and really enjoy, is to do a sketch once in a while. And write the date beside it, and write a little note about it.

For all I know, twenty years down the line, I might cringe at the terrible art I was trying to make, and terrible entries I made, like reading my older blog made me feel at times. But maybe, just maybe, I won’t hate it that much, and would actually appreciate the effort I put in, instead of trying to record mundane everyday entries? I wish I could time travel and see what the 60-year-old me thinks of the present me. 

PS: Here’s my journal entry for today. 

I went out for what I call a ‘sketching lunch’ and had the most amazing time. At first I thought I’d do it by myself, with just my sketchbook and pens for company. Then I asked a friend along and she agreed as well. Nearly three hours spent in a lovely courtyard-style cafe, with a little conversation and lots of quiet, focused sketching. This is my meditation, my therapy. 


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