Thinking about it ... that's why I love reading journals. I've never done so much reading as I have these last few months! I survived high school and college without reading the required literature. I skimmed books and paid attention. That's how I passed - and got praised for my reports!
I'll never forget my H.S. English teacher, Mr. Fontaine, [who rarely gave A's] photocopied my report to hand out to the class and an entire lecture was spent on my "perfect example." I was terrified. I didn't have the nerve to tell him I hadn't read the book. I just took good notes from his lectures. I mean, come on: One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich? Seriously, what's it about?
I remember going to a bookstore with a strange, eager feeling. I said, "I'm looking for a book about me." I had all these unanswered questions, overwhelming emotions, intriguing curiosities. I wanted to understand what it all meant. But I didn't know where to begin. Where was that book with a mirror on it that reads, "This is You"? That's the one I wanted!
Well, eleven years and a handful of wonderful books later, I realize there's nothing in a book that will ever come close to capturing the true essence of me. Except for the three boxes of personal journals sitting in my closet.
I think that's why I love to read other journals so much. It's a true window to the soul. I'm drawn to the spirit of the journalist. I love getting to know people through their art. But there's something deeply intriguing about that creator's life story in words. Oh, put the two together and it's heaven on earth!