On writing...

I remember when I used to love writing. When I looked forward to sitting down at my computer, or my journal and just writing out my feelings. When journaling felt less like a task, and more like free therapy. I've missed those days.

Oddly enough, (pun intended) I became passionate about writing-- journaling in particular when I was 13. I had read a very thought-provoking story told by a young Jewish girl through her diary entries. "Dear Kitty," she would write, telling her experiences of life in hiding during the most intense and traumatizing period a young girl could live through.

I carried that passion all through high school when I excelled in English classes, and continued to love writing when I first went to university and majored in English. Even when I changed majors, I knew my love for writing was still present when I started this blog, almost two years ago. Writing anecdotes about my life and opinions was fun for a while, but I'd noticed I had become obsessed with building my blog more than I was about sharing my craft. You know why I loved Anne Frank's diary so much? Because it was genuine. She wasn't writing for an audience, she was writing for herself. I had become so involved in the blog, that I'd forgotten the real reason why I had started it to begin with-- to write. Not for views, for me. And maybe for a few other people who might find inspiration in my life the way I had in so many other's blogs. So I quit.

I quit the blog-- cold turkey. I put away my metaphorical pen and paper and didn't look back. Until now. My theory is, when you're passionate about something, you don't ever lose that. Sometimes you can't find it for a while, but that doesn't mean it's gone.

Have you ever misplaced something? Ever go looking for that item in a frenzy trying to figure out where you could have placed it? Only to feel total relief when you've found it again? That's how I feel about writing-- I've misplaced it for a while, but now it's back. Now I'm back.

How about them apples?