Anon

Dawn of a new journal, this morning, always one of my favorite times of the year. I love penning those last words and flipping back over the pages, nodding at the poignant passages, smiling at the triumphs and joys, and musing on the thoughts expressed over months of reflection. I often flip to random entries and read snippets, shaking my head at my ugly writing habits, and remember the days leading into these inked emotions.

Before I put a journal to rest on my shelf, eight since college ended, I flip through it quickly, not bothering to read any sentences, but just gathering in the pages like a flip book, watching time pass in a moment and creating a story I cannot understand at that pace, but seems somehow beautiful, in all the illegible characters flying by.

Finally, with a theatrical sigh and something like reverence, I pull out the descendent, and pen the first words: May 14th, 2014. Beginnings are just as tough as endings, because I want everything to be just so. I wrote a poem about that recently, like a romantic dinner (though I’ve not experienced said occasion, in my head I’ve romanticized the concept of romanticism, romantically), everything organized to a nuanced degree, showing care in preparation of love.

First words are important, and definitely my favorite things to write in longer works. I agonize for days over what the words should be; this is the hook, this hauls people on board and carries, drags them into a new world. But for a journal? This is just for me, and so the hook is simple.

There are a lot of beginnings, lately, and a lot of endings. I think there always are, if you know how to see each. I think this year’s journal is going to be exemplary, filled with some of the greatest moments of my life, captured in celebratory moments with my dearest friends. There will be associated sorrows, but this, too, is time’s prerequisite it seems.

The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away.

But I have plans, oh such plans, and adventures waiting in the wings. But like a magician, I redirect the vision until only I am seen, and not the things moving in the darkness on cue, waiting to spring into view magnificently. A magical year awaits – let the games begin, ladies and gentlemen, for when it comes to these, I’ll win or break trying.

http://benjaminwblog.com/2014/05/anon/