In a world of easily accessible oversharing, an unguarded thought is almost a gimme, a certainty, an unavoidable consequence of the instantaneous I suppose. We tend to be unfiltered and uncensored to the point where we automatically give quarter to a misspoken word by excusing the blunt affrontation to our sensibilities by simply chalking it up to a careless slip and moving on to the next soundbite. The constant stream flushes away unintended words and thoughts, solidifying the fact that they are all temporary... the internet may remember everything but, people don't. I started thinking about the accountability of a journal. Words and thoughts set to ink are deliberate, intentional... they are not spell checked, autocorrected by technology, not double spaced or even in some cases legible. The words trapped between the covers of a private journal are as sacred as an arching spine wanting to receive the attention of a pen nib. We tend to guard our thoughts more when they are affixed with a signature of sorts, a handwritting that bares witness and exposes truths a typed page conceals.
