pens, pencils, and paper


From the earliest age that I can remember I have kept a paper journal. I have always had a love of pens, pencils and paper. Journals fill the storage around my house, and my drawers overfloweth with the ageing things, but they are used less and less frequently these days because I realise that they will simply rot with me when I die. In fact, many of them appear to be rotting already. I’ve started to turn to blogs (gasp, sigh, shock, horror, weep) but these, as long as there is no global meltdown or zombie apocalypse, will still be floating around in cyber space (presumably) for years to come. Don’t get me wrong, the hand written journal is still a beautiful thing… nothing short of a truly passionate love affair, and it will always be a part of my life, but things have to change.
                Having said this, the problem with the blog is the very thing that makes it a positive – the fact that it can be read by anyone anywhere in the world at any time. The fear of disclosing personal and private information is something that must hinder the writer to a certain extent in spite of what he or she consciously believes. Subconsciously, self-censorship takes place when writing is going public. Recently I have toiled endlessly over my public output. It doesn’t take long to realise that the very things (the only things) that I find interesting to say and read are largely unacceptable to the majority of people. Speaking of killing neighbours or partners, questioning the institution of marriage and the practise of having children, along with jokes about suicide, drug addiction and alcoholism simply do not go down well when being read by all of the people you have been friends with from school through college and university into your jobs and including your current colleagues and managers.
I am often guilty of the classic ‘post it tonight, remove it tomorrow’ act. Last night I posted something on a social networking site about killing your partner after you’ve had a child because the only true happiness from that point on is derived from sharing in one’s child’s life. The partner is merely a by-product of this and is usually more of a hindrance than anything else (captive Black Widow Spiders have it right). Everyone knows this… but it simply cannot be said in the public domain (well, it can be said, of course, but not without consequences). I was quite proud of the comment. However, I awoke (in the middle of the miserable, wind-swept night) to the thought that this may be offensive to those who are unable, biologically, to have children. The more I think about it, the more I regret deleting it.
The fact remains, self-censorship is rife in the public domain and unless one wants to lose all friends, destroy their love life, get fired,  and create a rift with each and every family member, the hand written journal (locked away in a safe storage place) will always be a necessity whilst the blog is there for posterity and possibly some form of creativity if we are fortunate.

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