Blank Pages in My Diary

I promised. I really did. That I would never be negligent about writing on my journals, when I first discovered blogging. But just this morning, I checked; a full week's entry is missing. Is it time to let go of a daily relaxing ritual for me?

I am a diligent diary writer since I was in 4th grade, I would say. I started using the school issued diary to write notes, not everyday though. My first real diary was a pink Hello Kitty notebook which I got from the Sanrio shop in Quad for free because they have a promo: exchange so much wrappers of colgate and safeguards and you get to choose an item.

Again, it was not an everyday thing - it was more for keeping my thoughts about my crushes. Adolescent thingy! But I had to violently give it up when my cousin sneaked out with it and proceeded to read my thoughts out loud; for the neighborhood to hear. Yikes! I was so ashamed, I ripped out most of the pages. Then when I was in fifth grade, I discovered a script used by early pinoys, during our history class. During that time, I was still having crushes fits! So to keep the names (with S, yes!) secret, I decided to use that script. Nobody had a clue what those weird scrolls were; even I, for that matter -- re-reading it a few months later :-)

It was an English teacher in fourth year high school that made keeping a daily diary fun. She diary writing an everyday assignment for us. By then I already discovered that I love playing with words. Thus, I was hooked. I wrote my thoughts, the crushes turned into puppy loves (with S again), and as my world turned; my diary turned with me. When I left for my first job stint in Bangkok, my diary was the first item in my luggage. My Bangkok diary received some Thai scripts, too -- I was learning how to read and to write Thai, yes! I am sure when I return to it now, I wont know what I was scribbling about, haha!

Living in Deutschland, I needed my diary, too. My diary's first entries were the overwhelming sights and sounds of Europe. The luck of finally finding someone after more than 30 years; the decision to stay and to have kids. Until it slowly became a mom's journal.

More than thirty years later, I have a box-full collection of diaries. The words within are fluctuations of me, too - more in English, bits of Tagalog and Thai, some Deutsch; and the secret private words of a family. My husband finds my diary writing intriguing but he's never tried to peek in. He encourages me to continue doing it; especially when I told him that these words are for the kids.

Now what? Instead of writing these things in my diary, I am again babbling here.