Marty Romero

Sometimes, this is how I journal

I struggle to write

If you browse through this blog (which is somewhat of a journal) you’ll see that I don’t write very frequently. Sometimes I go months and even years between entries. Its mostly because when I start to journal I feel that I have to write something meaningful and/or poetic and sometimes—most times—I am feeling neither.

A year ago I started to keep a different type of journal to archive my feelings. I began to use found foliage. I pluck or pick-up leaves and flowers that resemble the feelings that I am experiencing. I keep them in a sketch book and write a little note by them. It’s not about detailing what I was doing, but rather to capture the feeling of a specific moment. Here are a few entries.

I was feeling broken

A picture of a tattered leave. Today I picked you, because you kind of feel the way you look.

I was feeling inadequate

A picture of a wicked looking leave. You look so wicked! You deserve to hang in a gallery somewhere, but I saw you first. What is it like to look so wickedly handsome?

I was feeling sad, unloved, but needing courage to go on

A picture of green grass. Because despite months of snow you are still green. The cold didn’t phase you did it? You are just what I needed to see after a week overcome with sadness.

I was experiencing a deep feeling of love for my wife

A picture of a petal. I don't remember what type of flower. You were 116th monthaversary. She said that you were the best bouquet ever. You really were a pretty flower. I hope that she thought of me every time she saw you. Thank you.

I felt a deep sense of gratitude towards mom

A picture of a petal. I don't remember what type of flower. Mom smiled like she does when she is joyful. I don’t see that joy in her as often any more. I love her and I know that one day I will miss her. Thank you for giving her joy through the week.

I was feeling a longing for the spring

A picture of a petal. I don't remember what type of flower. I found this flower poking out of the snow on my way to toastmasters. My first winter in Ellensburg was rough and I really felt the need for something colorful. I felt overwhelmed.

This doesn’t say much about what I might have been doing at the time, but I remember perfectly what I was feeling. It’s how I journal sometime.

Jose Romero