Welcome :)

Hi,

I want to start this off by saying I have no idea what I am doing. I feel like I have this obligation to myself to do this—an obligation to write down all these small milestones, thoughts, and memories. I hope that taking a log of them will help me hold onto the inevitable loss of time as it slips through me. Like putting all these things into one place will keep them safe, and in turn keep myself safe.

There are so many times when I wish I could go back in time and tell myself, “Write this one down!!!! Jot down everything—every thought, feeling, moment—because soon you won’t be able to recall every detail, and it will make you grieve for the life that once was.”

But I can’t.

I’ve spent sleepless nights trying to remember my life in fragments. Moments in the shower, the water cranked to its hottest setting, steam filling the room while my skin burns pink and raw—as if the heat could melt through the debris in my mind and uncover the memories beneath. As if they would pour out all at once, washing over me until the grief of what I’ve forgotten finally dissolved.

So my next thought was: what could be done?

I have a lot of little hobbies. I like to crochet, hike, swim, play tennis, etc., but I’d never consider myself a “crocheter” or a “swimmer.” All my life I have had this desire to try so many different things. I pick up violin lessons for five months and enjoy it, but then quickly move on to the next thing, and the cycle repeats over and over again. There hasn’t been anything I have consistently done for more than a couple of months before switching to the next new, shiny thing.

Or so I tend to think of myself.

In a recent revelation: I realized I have journaled and kept diaries for most of my life. I remember when I was eight years old I received a spiral notebook, a hardcover made of something similar to cardboard. It was magenta pink, with small purplish and white swirls starting at the front cover and bleeding its way onto the back cover. I’d jot down my crush, 100+ things about myself, and every single random thought I had. Since then, I have kept journals. I will go months without writing but then randomly pick it up one day and write 5 pages a day for 3 weeks straight. 

So I have consistently, inconsistently kept writing my entire life. Would I consider myself a writer? Would I consider myself a good writer?

Not really…

But it’s a constant. It’s a comfort. It’s the thing I circle back to, no matter how many new paintbrushes I buy or if I buy brand new Altra zero-drops for my new excursion into trail running.

So I know I want to keep my thoughts in a safe place. I know I have consistently written for my entire life. Where do I go from here?

What do I want to give to the world?

In an epic collusion of my newfound interest in disconnecting from social media (albeit I still consistently watch YouTube), and my ever-growing interest in exploring creative pursuits, I thought having a simple personal blog to share my life, my interests, and a fun way to save memories and to share with others.

So thank you for being here, grab yourself a little drink (maybe some tea, (yuuuuummm!!!)), sit back, relax and make yourself at home.

– Brianna

Welcome to WordPress! This is your first post. Edit or delete it to take the first step in your blogging journey.