Ever since I was able to write, I've kept a journal of one kind or another. When I was six, it was the tiny blue one with the pink lips painted on the front. When I was eleven, it was the glittery one with a big "R" in rhinestones on the front. Since then, I've probably filled a half-dozen or more.
I love how it feels to crack the spine and open up 120 pages worth of possibilities. I like watching the pages fill until you can flip through them and watch all the ink fly by. And I like to know that things got better, or that things worked out, or even that they didn't, but life moved on at least.
Lately, journalling has become part of my daily routine, especially when it comes to staying inspired. Sometimes it's nice to jot down an idea and take a refreshed look at it later.
Here's some of my journals and kinds of entries they see:
The Collected Journal
It's a book full of all the things I love. The expensive dress from a catalog I loved? It's in there. A poem I wrote when I should have been doing something else? It's there too. Pictures cut out of old National Geographics? Of course. It's a visual compendium of the inside of my brain, perfect inspiration for just about anything.