From Journal to Blog: I Tell, Therefore You Are
My first journal -- a bright red, cloth-covered, hardbound affair bespeckled with small, white forget-me-nots -- was given to me for my ninth birthday. I don't remember who gave it to me; it must have been my parents, unlikely as that seems, given what my father thought about the past times of reading and writing. I remember feeling excited but also a little overwhelmed by all of the blank pages, wondering how I would fill it, whether I should document my days, record the facts, or tell my deepest secrets. I also remember feeling vaguely disappointed that it didn't come with a lock and key, like the pink and purple ones I'd seen shrink wrapped at B.Dalton.
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