i don't blog.

no really, blogging just isn't my thing. it seems to be a large part of several of the new people in my life that i love, but its just not for me. not saying that someday it might not become part of it, but currently, i'll stick to my pen to paper paper method in a bound book. besides, if i gave up on journalling completely, what would my birthday, christmas, and random gifts consist of? (i have always received a journal as a gift on these occasions...always.)

but seeing as i'm not a blogger, you're probably wondering what this all is....

i used to write.

well, scribble.

in high school, in my super twelve/ victory lap of school, i took a class called writers craft. looking back at super twelve and all that year was and wasn't and could have been but wasn't, i can recall the constant wondering "why am i here"? why did i chose to remain behind? i was ready for all 'this', so why didn't i leave after graduation? it is my firm belief that writers craft is the reason behind my grade thirteen experience. without the guidance of that extremely amazing and loving teacher, i would not be who i am today. she nutured our class into a family, and despite how different were all were and all still are, we have that common link.

the spontaneous writing time in that class defined me as a writer. when the lights were dimmed and her music playing, magic happened. it didn't matter what in the world was going on, that room was safe. safe to confess deep secrets, to share the most intimate reaches of our mind, to pour our souls onto the page. i miss it. intensely. there are somedays here that i would give anything to return to that class room, if even only for an hour. but, the past is in the past. unfortunately there is no returning and we're supposed to grow from this point.

i haven't been writing much lately other than school assignments, but i'm hoping that by going back and sharing some of my past work maybe i'll inspire myself to write again. we'll see how this all works out.