I've kept a regular journal since 2001, when I went on an exchange to Germany as a high school student. I still have scraps of paper from as far back as 1994 - when I was ten years old - that tell me about the kind of person I was, what I felt, who I loved, hated, and how I thought about life. But what happens when we fall silent? When we stop writing? Does time just disappear, life just flow right past us?
That's how I've felt about the past eight months since I've written in here. Like time is just escaping. But I need to write, I need to share and connect with people. But what has led me to not do that?
It's not being busy (we're all busy all the time), it's not for lack of interest (writing is in my heart), and it's not because I love doing other things more (except design comes close). It's something I can't describe, and should it matter? No. Passion is timeless, as is art. We should just create, because that's what our job is to do.
In these past eight months I got a new job. I traveled to South Africa. Traveled to Amsterdam, New York, London, Kansas City. Took weekly Dutch classes. I stopped drinking. I found something magical within myself - which I will share with you, when it's time. So, this writing continues. To figure out what I am doing, what is happening, to stay true to myself - I need to write.