Life Written in Shorthand

I’ve felt kind of manic today…. Sleep deprivation and too much Plexus Slim will do that to you. Oddly enough, I haven’t written in my journal since January 21^st. I’ve picked it up several times, only to solemnly put it down. I can’t seem to bring myself to journal the last few weeks, but I haven’t had a problem blogging; I find that odd. It’s probably a Mother issue (isn’t everything?). I’ve kept a journal since I was really young. When I was in high school, I had a sense that Mom would read my journal, so I would boobie trap it. I'd lay it on my night stand and place the pen in a certain direction so I’d know if she’d been snooping. I wasn’t prone to rebellion, but if I had a certain something that I didn’t want Mom to know, I’d journal that portion in shorthand, mainly just to drive her nuts. After all, isn’t that what being a daughter is all about.  Life written in shorthand has got to be more interesting the life written in longhand, or so I thought 35 years ago.