journaling

I can't for the life of me figure out what to write here, although I have felt a urge to write something for the last few days. I haven't even really written in my personal (offline) journal for a couple of days - time still is eluding me. I wonder why it is so difficult to maintain any kind of schedule. What is it about me that can't consistently get up at the same time every day and maintain a routine? My first response is laziness and then maybe simple inertia, but sometimes I wonder if there is something more subtle or subsconscious at work within me.

Journaling is a strange process for me. I don't really seem to say anything in my journals. Much of my private ones are simply self-doubt repeated over and over or lists of things I need or want to do - pretty dull reading for anyone who might stumble across them in the future, I'd say. They aren't a true reflection of me or my life. Sure, I do have a lot of self-doubt and I can be pretty critical of myself, too, but my mind isn't generally occupied with these kinds of thoughts. Usually I just daydream and make up stories to amuse myself. Sometimes, I think about more philosophical topics. But I don't really think of me, except in an almost abstract way. I'm the hero of a daydream or maybe I'm an actor playing the hero of a movie based on the daydream. I'm never me, Betsy, the person who takes out the dog or sits in front of computer 8 hours a day. I'm ashamed that I don't look forward to a future for myself - I don't daydream about a fantasy trip with Andy or even about what I'll do this next summer. It's as if I don't really exist to myself.

I wonder a lot about what other people think about. Do they have richly detailed dream worlds that they spend most of their lives in, or are they more practical and daydream about a new car, a better job, or sex with the cute person they see in line at Starbuck's?

What's supposed to be in a journal anyway? Should you write to the imaginary person who will read them after you are long gone or write as if no one, not even yourself, will ever read your words?