My Relationship Between Writing, Memory, and Sentiment

I never kept a dream journal. I never had a book of notes for jotting down ideas. And I most certainly never kept a diary. However, I do wish I saw the merit of writing my thoughts down earlier in my literary lifespan. It would be like having a time capsule into the thoughts and feelings of an alien who spent considerable amounts of time in your body. For me, grade school essays represent the closest alternative to a journal of my past. In a way, they are a reflection of memories and disjointed experiences. I remember writing nearly all of them. I remember writing an essay about mass incarceration in eighth grade. And how can I forget the Huck Finn essay, now permanently etched in my memory? But for every essay and academic paper that takes up space in my mind, I wonder if there’s a core memory I’ve omitted?

Only recently have I started recording my thoughts. I own a small Portuguese notebook that I keep in my pocket in case of an epiphany. At first, I approached notetaking as a skeptic. I had initially begun it as a way to pacify my brain in order to sleep. Every night I would jot down a few ideas, hoping to finally get some sleep. The first three ideas were as follows: 1) An idea for an adult jungle gym, 2) how I would beat the prisoner’s dilemma, and 3) how much I missed my family. 

It is a strange phenomenon but the privacy of externalizing your thoughts in a space you are sure no one will enter is a kind of freedom. I can write anything about my day, without judgment or a letter grade. I  write about memories I wish to preserve or bad Ideas I am not quite ready to let go of.  As I continued to write my thoughts before bed I began to develop a more concrete understanding of what I was perceiving and why. Most of my notes weren’t exactly sad, but rather melancholy, regretful and most often, hopeful. Writing down my thoughts, at least for me, became a way of organizing priorities in life. Reuniting with family, striving academically, and most often: a dream of upending my life and moving to another country to learn a language was actualized through writing. I hope to look back decades later at my small notebook and remember vivid memories of my time in college. But if not, I would settle for my sentiments.