I was a very serious teenager. Journals were my favourite books because of the potential they held, to house my most personal intimacies on life, love and my desires. They were akin to sacramental vessels. I loved them. I can remember too, when I was 16, I dreamt of being a designer. My bedroom was furnished in black and white with pops of colour. Black and white Audrey Hepburn postcards adorned the wall, as did other black and white photos and art pieces. My cupboard that was home to my op-shop wardrobe I wore to school – was a white stand-alone, and on the top, I displayed (as if a shop display) my personal items – books, scrapbooks, sketchbooks, a blue Sub-zero bottle with a yellow gerbera in it and my quotable journals, of which I had a few. My student desk was also my drafting table to help with my orthogonal and isometric drawings I had to produce for my graphics class. I even had my own orthogonal ruler (thanks Mum). Minimalism meets Mondrian was my style guide, if you can imagine it. I even had black bed sheets because any other colour or pattern would wreck the flow.
Finding this journal for sale today at Vinnies op shop was a delight. Buying it at its $2 price was easy. But having it now in my possession is priceless, for it has brought back memories of the person (and dreamer) I was, which I am sure will undoubtedly influence and shape my near and unveiling future.
Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life you’ve imagined.
-Thoreau
Sure thing, journal! Slowly, slowly!
Geralyn 