Journaling

1-11-09: Journaling
I've tried a number of times throughout life to keep a journal. It started when I was around 11. Back then it was called a diary and I hid mine between my mattresses. The day after I confessed my crush on Brian Greenwell was the day I found my mom relaxing on my bed reading it. Perhaps that's what put me off?
The next time I tried was in University. The guy I was dating wrote in his journal religiously and there was something quant in the idea of keeping one myself. Perhaps I would discover a new sense of self or that I was an amazing writer and just never knew it. But it wasn't to be. After I got through one and half books I burned them and vowed I would never go back. Instead of unlocking secrets of life and writing philosophically about my University days, I wrote the mostly negative and gloomy thoughts. The journal became a dumping ground for every depressing and unconstructive thought that came to mind.
Against my better judgment I thought it would be neat to start a Peace Corps journal. After about two months in country I started writing my mood next to the date:
"Exhausted."
"Ok. My brain hurts."
"FRUSTRATED!"
"Ahhh!"
"Frustrated, upset, why am I here?"
"Full."
"Annoyed."
"Sad."
"Pissed off."
"Frustrated!"
"Holy Shit."
"Frustrated."
"Sigh."
"Pissed."
"Surprisingly calm."
"Lost."
"Not good enough."
"Depressed."
"Disappointed"
"Stupid."
"Frustrated as always."
"Hopeless" (Wow. Did I really write that? Ha, ha, ha, that was after two months of no schedule!)
"Sick, worried."

You may be surprised to learn that I do not have a thesaurus with me. And that I didn't kill myself (that's sarcasm people!) For the most part, I quit the journal by November of my first year. There was too much negativity. I started writing stories for this blog instead. I knew that I couldn't whine unrestrained here because people might read them. It forced me to look at things for what they were; ridiculous.

(Wow! I just got the following text, "There's a rapist loose in my town. Yikes." WTF?!)

As I read my journal now I can hardly keep from laughing. At the time, what was happening was such a big deal. Like when it took the school three months to figure out that I could not read cursive Ukrainian and that they had to help me if they wanted me to do anything. Or the time they wanted me to teach IT in Russian. Turns out I couldn't even turn the computer on. They accused me of breaking it. Or my personal favorite, the ecology speech I had to give. Twice.

What it all boils down to, the moral of the story, is that even if something is complete shit at the time it's likely not as bad as it seems. I know that I was really unhappy- and frustrated and pissed and ahhhhh! - in those first few months, but I can look back now with a smile and simply say, "typical Ukraine."

Maybe people keep their journals for just this reason, to look back and laugh at how ridiculous they were instead of how ridiculous the situation was. Looking back serves as a reason to stay positive and learn from our mistakes. Personally, looking back at those crazy first months today is enough for me. I'm going to burn all of these pages in the pechka and leave the negative thoughts here in my house, where they were born and where they eventually died. I'm making the rest of the journal into a cookbook. It will include recipes without potatoes.