the 8 year old me

I was so excited when my younger brother uncovered some old photos and school documents and brought them to me recently. Amongst them was a school journal I wrote in 1991 – when I was 8. It’s funny to read some of my thoughts at the time, to see the 8 year old handwriting and the events that I had forgotten about for the most part. I always love the feeling of re-connecting with my younger self.

journal

I also find it so fascinating how the art of writing and journaling has changed. If you had told the 8 year old me that I’d no longer do most of my writing in books and that they would be mostly done on “the internet” and “computers” I’d have never believed you. At this time I had zero concept of what internet would even be. Getting out any sort of feelings out was always done on paper with a pencil. There was no concept of anything beyond that, really.

 

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If I really thought about it, I could actually be a bit sad that I’ve lost touch with the 8 year old me who knew so little about the world and what roll technology would play in my life. It’s a part of everything I do now – socially, professionally and personally. In many ways it has helped me become a better writer. It allows me to get my thoughts out almost as quickly as my mind can think of them. That has been huge. Because with an imagination as wild as mine, often my best ideas are the first things that pop into my head. Writing would slow that process down. Force me to second guess myself and perhaps never really say what I needed to say. On the other hand, I do miss the art of hand crafting something and the slow, meticulous, thoughtful way I can take the time to say it truly meaningfully on a piece of paper. My heart felt full when I flipped through the pages of this. It brought back memories of things I had forgotten and places I’d been. It reminded me that sometimes it’s nice to slow down. To reconnect to a more simple way of doing things. To not get so overwhelmed and wrapped up in the digital-everything and to take the time to create tangible memories. Photos, pieces of writing, home cooked meals, handmade art/crafts. This is the legacy that I, as an 8 year old girl, imagined I would create in my life time. It’s all I knew. I look forward to using this blog as often as I can as a medium for getting those ‘finished products’ out into the world beyond myself and my family. A marriage of using the old and new I guess. But the real work, the real actual time spent creating, building and crafting is what’s most important. Ideas born from the mind of the 8 year old me.

8 year old me

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