I love...writing.

Over the years I've collected a lot of journals. I think I have a box of them in my attic, there are probably still some at my parents' house, and tonight I counted seven on my bookshelf. Some are filled on every page, in others I've written on random pages - the 5th page, the 20th page, the last page.

They're filled with my thoughts, short stories, song lyrics, poems, ideas for a screenplay, and then some pages are just filled with beginnings, middles or ends of stories that are waiting to be revisited.

As I flip through their pages it's a nice little trip down Jenny-lane. It's a reminder of what I've loved for a long time...writing. I write when I'm happy, I write when I'm sad, I write when I'm bored, I write when I'm stressed. I write in my apartment, in coffee shops, on airplanes, at the park. I even used to write in the middle of class. Writing makes me happy, it makes me...me. And sometimes stumbling back upon your own "me" is pretty nice.

That's what happened tonight. I gathered up these journals, flipped through the pages and stumbled back upon my own "me".

On a piece of paper torn from one journal and tucked into another, dated in 2006, I found this:
"He wants to keep her forever
with her head on his pillow
and her body between his sheets.
He would give up everything else
just to lay there,
living the rest of his life
in her eyes
and through her breathing,
traveling along the curves
of her body
with his fingers
and his hands,
careful to leave her dreaming -
forever."

Then on another (undated) page in another journal I found this:
"In an itty bitty town, in an itty bitty house, lives an itty bitty ant with an itty bitty head and itty bitty hands and a large apple named Appleonia (well a regular-sized apple, but to him it's giant)."

Then this:
"Jenny Chalk
Jenny Chalk
Jenny Chalk
Jennifer Chalk
Jenny Chalk"
(I like practicing my signature.)

As I type these out I'm already editing them in my mind. What will become of the couple in their bed of forever? What does the future hold for the itty bitty ant and his large apple? What will happen to Jenny Chalk?

You'll have to wait and see, and so will I.