Snippets from 36 Days of Daily Journaling That Might Just Make You Smile

I’ve been journaling since humanity learned to bind pages into a book. I’ve filled pages upon pages with Twilight quotes, how many hairbands I can fit onto my head at any one time and a short, if not sharp, 13-year-old commentary on my mom’s new boyfriend (he’s not so new, 14 years on).

But I’ve been daily journaling like many Love Island relationships: on and off. I made it a rigid habit during lockdown, a page a day. no exceptions, but that stiffness sort of made it feel more like a chore than a joy. So I reverted back to journaling as and when, always having one on me, but not always having it open.

Until the 21st of March, 2023. Ben had a dentist appointment that lasted longer than we thought and so, whilst I wandered round waiting for him, I “stumbled” (beelined directly for) my local Waterstones. Then I saw this. And I bought this.

As is the lure of a new and spellbinding journal, I found myself standing there making an internal, and hopefully eternal, promise.

“No more unused journals. I will fill these pages with my immortalised moments, no matter how mundane or erratically spaced. I will journal — no, micro-journal — in this beauty because it’s good for me as a person, as a writer and, above all else, this bloody thing cost me 15 quid.”

Well, I did it.

I’ve been doing it for 36 days (and counting). I’ve loved every moment, but more on that another time. For now, here are some little bits from this past month that just might make you smile.

21/03/2023.

20:42. If Mike Rojournaling was a friend of mine, he’d swiftly become a distant acquaintance, considering he’s not been around in forever. Well, Mikey Ro, you’re moving in with me now. These white walls are for you to make your home.

30/03/2023.

21:08. A quote I love from Anais Nin:

“Put yourself in the present. This is my principle when I wrote the diary — to write the things I felt most strongly about that day. Start there and that starts the whole unravelling, because that has roots in the past and it has branches into the future… I chose the event of the day that I felt most strongly about, the most vivid one, the warmest one, the nearest one, the strongest one.”

02/04/2023.

13:14. The people I spent the most incredible 12 hours with yesterday, and a short bio (author note: for privacy reasons, I have changed their names to types of biscuit):

• Right Twix and left Twix — bday boy and air fryer buyer.
• Garibaldi — knows when it’s not half 3.
• Pink Panther wafer — wants to send me a book! How lovely!
• Choc-coated Oatie — ready to beat people up on my behalf. Equally as lovely as being gifted a book.
• Custard cream — has a new girlfriend. Is a Eurovision King. Hates Adele when drunk.
• Double choc cookie — we have our own handshake now. Loves Anastacia. Hates that DJ. Southampton soulmate.
• Bourbon — played chess against my friend so I could save face.
• Shortbread — thinks everybody is called Perry (for her, they should be).
• Digestive — dad’s get drunk, too! He let us sing lullaby nursery rhymes to his kid.

10/04/2023.

19:20. I asked Ben to say 7 entirely random and spontaneous words (because I couldn’t be arsed to think of 7 names for the 7 kittens I just made on Sims). They were:

• Pennies (cat was called Penny)
• Sapling (kept it)
• Architecture (cat was called Archie)
• Moss (kept it)
• Electricity (cat was called Sparky)
• Felt (kept it)
• Infrastructure (cat was called Infra)

10/04/2023.

22:04. Things Ben is saying whilst playing Elden Ring with his best mate, Tom:

“There are fire building nutcases over there, Tom.” “What is shadow bait when it’s at home?” “I feel bad killing one of my brethren.” “Poor little Colin Crabsworth.” “Shall we go fuck her up?” “I can just hear her crying. Bit rave. No, no, she’s just bleeding out. At least we’ve got +8 weapons.” “Got to go get that needle repaired first, yeah? And then will that get her alive to go mug her off?” “In the beastial fucking highlands or whatever.” “Do you not know where the road of iniquity sidepath is off the top of your head, Tom?”

12/04/2023.

22:12. The Posture of a Gamer Guy — a poem (totally inspired by my Ben playing Elden Ring):

Sat there, he is, like a violently bent spoon,

Like the notes in a melody, all out of tune.

The handle of a hanger. Curved. That’s his spine,

He’s every shape other than straight. He’s way out of align.

The gamer guy’s posture. Scrunched (the correct way to wipe),

Arched and posied and ready for war. “Charge!” he’ll rapidly type.

Though his battle scars are anything but digital. He wears them within his bones.

In the distortion of his vertebrae. The way his neck cracks, clicks, groans.

W, A, S, D is his movement, but his back reads like the letter “C”

Stationary at the screen, whilst venturing The Lands Between — poor bloke must be in agony.

19/04/2023.

21:56. The opening paragraph of a short story inspired by an announcement I overheard when at New Street train station, in which they called over the tannoy for an Edward Delamere to report to the front desk. This one is for whoever he is. Titled:

What Did Edward Delamere Do Now?

“Can Edward Delamere please report to the front desk immediately, thank you.”

Edward Delamere blinked up at the ceiling as though the woman making the announcement was entangled in the pipes and glaring down at him. He cheeks burned.

Nobody knew that HE was Edward Delamere. He’d long since stopped parading around at catering events (and sometimes the cereal aisle in Asda) wearing those infamous, if not slightly obnoxious, “Hello, my name is…” sticky tags.

He was 37 now. A blossoming talent within his industry. And a complete nobody at a busy train station.

Still, Edward Delamere rose to his feet, a little clumsily, attracting the attention of 2 — no, 3 — brief passers by. It lasted all but 1.7 seconds. Edward Delamere began to sweat.

What the hell have I done now? he thought to himself.

Author note: that’s all for this one, folks.

22/04/2023.

18:40. A review of the dinner my Ben just made me: ASTOUNDING. An ASTOUNDING tomato-y pasta with chickpeas, lentils and more tomatoes, with a homemade sauce (not sperm) and it was, did I mention, ASTOUNDING! And it really felt healthy. Like, I actually felt better for eating it. Big fan of my soulmate’s soulplate.

23/04/2023.

22:06. My generation are gonna look like Fruit Winders when we’re older, because we’re mid-twenties and already suffering from crick neck and shoulder pain. Here I’m sat, watching Taskmaster with mom, straining my shoulders back, straightening up my spine and desperately wishing I could portal back to 9-year-old Em as she set up her first ever email account and began rooting herself in the newfound digital realm, grab her by her as-of-yet pain-free shoulders, straighten up her posture and beg her to keep doing so each day, no matter how much technology evolves and tech neck arises. “Sit up straight!” I’ll beg as she screams at the sight of an older, achier, heavily eyelinered version of herself in her bedroom.

25/04/2023.

10:07. Keir Starmer is on the tele. He’s launching some kind of “spiking” campaign in regards to the protection of women and their drinks being spiked. However, to me, it sounds like a festival for hedgehogs.

26/04/2023.

19:45. I’ve decided to list several of Anastacia’s song titles and decipher why she chose to call them that:

• Left Outside Alone — there’s a cat in the garden and the cat flap's locked.
• I’m Outta Love — “love” being the brand of loo roll she chooses. And she’s out.
• Stupid Little Things — Our Ana’s in a lengthy queue behind a bunch of rowdy teenagers that are being super obnoxious.
• Paid My Dues — she’s a freelance writer.
• In The Sanctuary — she’s in my old university bar.
• Not That Kind — she’s in big Tesco with her boyfriend and he’s about to pick out a brand of crisps that she doesn’t like.
• You Shook Me All Night Long — she’s a snorer and her boyfriend is getting irritated
• Who’s Gonna Stop The Rain — she’s in Britain.
• Lifeline — she’s down to her last option as a contestant on Who Wants to be a Millionaire.

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Right. I’m off to write a journal entry about writing a Medium post about my journal entries. I’m sure I’ll share that with you sometime.