It must not be easy to be a student whose daily gift from a demanding teacher is a blank page upon which to splatter thoughts that somehow resembles a unified something. I get it. I really do. It is easy for me right now because right now I  have a purpose and a goal, and I am writing about something I actually know something about--writing journal entries. There really isn’t a writing plan for a journal entry. It is what it is: “a place and way to keep a personal journal... to enter or record daily thoughts, experiences, etc., in a journal”

A journal and a diary are pretty much the same things, but a journal goes on beyond what is typical in a diary. A diary is strictly a record of personal and daily experiences, while a journal does that--but so much more because a journal can also explore science, mechanics, art and any other passion, hobby or avocation . A journal can be used as sketchpad, a place to host podcast. Many of my most recent journal entries are focused on ways to rebuild motorcycles, fix leaky boats or worries about somehow engaging all of you in a spring of online learning--all interspersed with poems, songs, essays about teaching, lesson plans or whatever occupies “my” time in any given day. 

Really--anything I do, experience and think about I try to recapture in some way shape or form in my journal. When something “good” is created, and I think it is worth sharing, I rework it, edit it, revise it and gussy “it” up [Visual Rhetoric]--and only then will I post to my blog; or I make a podcast or a book or a recording, but the seeds of everything I publish, and am proud of, sprout from the often illegible scrawls and ramblings in my journal. You can do the same

Right now it is late at night. I am sipping tea on my back porch. These late hours are often the only quiet time in my day to actually write for the sake of writing. Drips of rain are sounding on the back deck. Some cars splash puddles on route 117. The only other sound is the off and on clacking of my keys. Right now there are long, silent pauses between the sentences. Earlier, I was “in the flow,” and my computer rat-a-tatted like a machine gun spraying bullets into the night. Words come and go with a seeming will of their own.  But still I am as patient as a hungry hunter, so I wait and persist, and hopefully something I am writing here makes sense. Hopefully, too, I am staying close enough to my theme--journaling--that I can call this an essay: “A thought fully explored!” And soon I can post it to my blog and be done with my daily assignment. 

In this way, I am no different than you. I am a writer and you are a writer. We have a job to do, and all we can do is try. That is the gift of journaling. Try it.

Holy crap! I’m done...