Ruth-Ann works in a local bakery/coffee house/cafe. You know the type – cool atmosphere, expensive, but tasty food. The kind of place you are happy to have in your city and want to tell everyone about, but you don’t want everyone to know it’s there.

Ruth-Ann is the kind of person that makes this type of local establishment work. She was friendly with everyone who came through the door and seemed to be a genuinely happy person.

Her curly blond hair was pulled back in a loose pony tail and her eyes were disconcertingly bright blue. Ruth-Ann’s story is beautifully cryptic. Where do you think the dream begins and ends? Let me know in the comments. Enjoy.

It would be dreams. It started about a year ago. I was laying in bed w/ my 1/3 Indian boyfriend at the time in a building that had been used as a venue for bands w/ no place to play. I thought I woke up to a group of boys down stairs and I walked out to see what they were talking about – all the doors were open and the wind rushed through and the morning was bright blue and nobody was outside.

I woke up again in my bed w/ my 1/3 Indian boyfriend. No wind. No blue.

During the Broken Social Scene Jig at the free Summer Concert Series, I whispered in his ear, “I can’t be w/ you” and I walked through the mass of people and watched the rest of the concert w/ a tree. I don’t know why I did it.

Its about dreams tho, really, dreams that aren’t dreams.

It goes like this:

I wake up multiple times and have multiple conversations.

I met a boy at a bike shop. He had red hair longer than mine and everyone elses. We rode down the canyon and I took my hands off the bars in the dark and cracked my head open on a rock. 25 stitches. University Hospital. Watched bats together at 3 am because we were locked out of my apartment. Layed on the parking lot. He touched my hand. Gauze around my skull. Pineapple cake mornings after drunk roommate finally got home at dawn.

Fast forward redhead bomb to blast the **** out of my life. My existence since that crash is loving him and trying to remember who I am and what is a dream.

We talk about coffee, why I don’t have the flavor he wants, and the I wake, it wasn’t a real conversation. Dream. I get confused. Wake up for real. He punches a hole in my wall.

Not a dream. Wind.

My head is loud loud loud in the morning. Vivid as high definition TV. And more real than (real) life.

Ruth-Ann Twitchell

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I’m a dad again!

We now have a little girl which brings our family to four (my son is two). Mom and baby are doing well – the delivery couldn’t have gone any better. I’m very blessed.

I hope you don’t mind the personal note. I’m just a bit excited. :)

I do have someone who really wrote in my journal. I’m putting together the entry and it should be posted later this week.

Also, if you’re interested in contributing to Write In My Journal (you know…get a journal of your own and go out and get people to write in it then scan it and send it in) email me at david @ writeinmyjournal . com.

Or, if you’re not interested and just want to say hi, I’d love to hear from you.

The proud dad,

David

I passed Mitch on the lower floor of the library. He was slouched down in his chair, camera hanging around his neck as he stared off at…well…I’m not sure what he was staring off at. I walked past him, paused and turned around to talk to him.

Turns out Mitch is in a photography class and was apparently lacking inspiration (when I asked if I could take his picture he said yes, but only if he could take mine. Anyone wanting to use me as a muse has to be desperate). He said he’d write in my journal, but that he only had a short time. He wasn’t kidding. This is by far the shortest entry to date. Despite being so short I have to admit that I think it’s one of the most intriguing because it leaves so many questions unanswered.

My name is Mitch.

I was born in Wisconsin and adopted into a family in Utah, I like it here.

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I met Ethan while strolling along BYU’s campus. I was hoping to find someone there because it seems like a campus would be a great place to meet diverse people with different backgrounds. Sure enough, Ethan fits the bill. As we passed each other in the quad, he wearing a kilt and aviator glasses, Ethan offered me a sincere “Hello”.

Now, BYU’s campus is probably one of the friendlier places on earth (neigh unto Disneyland) and it isn’t uncommon for people to say hi to strangers in passing. But something about Ethan struck me so I pulled a u-turn and caught up with him. He agreed to write in my journal and here’s what he had to say:

My nam is Ethan Unklesby and I’m a freshman at Brigham Young University. I’m from Ohio and feel out of place in Utah. I’ve always wanted to be a famous singer, but my dad doesn’t think I can make it. I really want to, just so I can show him wrong.

I love to make people smileand I hope to be able to do that through music. I’m single but I might have a thing for this incredible girl in my Latin class. I’ve never been 100% confortable and confident in myself, but I mask it pretty well. If I could tell everyone just one thing, it would be to look to Christ always. Sin happens, but he takes it away. When you are most overcome, let Him carry you.

Ethan Unklesby

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I saw Stephanie eating alone at Zupas while my family and I were out to dinner. Her back was turned to me and I noticed she was eating alone. Now, while dining in groups tends to be the cultural norm, I must say I enjoy going out to eat by myself or going solo to a movie every once in a while. As odd as it may seem, it’s a bit liberating.

Because Stephanie’s back was turned, I didn’t have much of an initial impression about her looks, behaviors, mannerisms, or any other things I tend to notice about people I ask to write in my journal. This one was all “hunch” and once again I managed to come across someone who is involved in something quite remarkable.

It’s always amazed me how everything is taken for granted until we notice due to emergencies or situations. I work as a lab technician for the American Red Cross almost everyday getting the blood donated read for hospitals or for research companies to find cures. I don’t get paid a lot, but I save hundreds of lives everyday. I come across blood with STDs and diseases and hope not to get them, hope not to mess up, hope the equipment won’t break or burn me! Life is taken for granted. Live to every minute! Live with no regrets! Take a chance! It’s worth it!

- Stephanie Petty

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My wife, son, sister and I went home to Oregon for Thanksgiving. I absolutely love being in the house I grew up in, visiting old haunts and enjoying the general green splendor of my home state.

There are certain traditions that must be followed whenever we go home to Oregon (usually about twice a year). On is going to the Marrakesh for dinner.

The Marrakesh is a Moroccan restaurant downtown Portland. Patrons sit on the floor, eat all five courses with their hands (everyone gets a bath towel for a napkin), and get a rosewater hand rinse afterward to cover up the scent of the food. It’s a great experience, although we were worried about taking my 18 month-old son because…well…he’s 18 months old. He ended up doing quite well and thought it was a lot of fun to peek out between the curtains behind our table and look at the passersby on the street, his little head barely poking above the seat.

Sure enough, people walking past started noticing him and smiling. One person even stopped to take a picture. I stood up and ran outside. The photographer, “Pie” (she asked that I not use her real name), thought I was going to get mad at her for taking pictures of my son. Instead, I asked her to write in my journal.

Pie was young and kind of short – she only came up to my shoulders -  with big, expressive eyes. She was easy to talk to and I came to find he was taking photography classes and was using an old-school film camera that night. She was there with her family to celebrate her 18th birthday. After she sat down at her table I gave her my journal.

Pie didn’t want her picture taken, or, rather, it made her family nervous. Clearly I, having a wife and kid and being at dinner with my parents, seemed very threatening. :) She said she’d mail me copies of the pictures she took of my son, and I was waiting to post this until they arrived, but she must have forgotten.

“My name is Pie and it’s my eighteenth birthday and for the first time I am eating Moroccan food. It’s crazy and extremely exciting, I hope the belly dancer shows up at my table and shows me how to shake my thing. Even though I am 18 now, it doesn’t mean I am quite an adult. I am a kid forever because then I will never die. Live forever! I hope that taking these pictures, how I met this random man, allow me to go far. I really enjoy artistic stuff and truly want to make a difference in people’s lives. Also, someday marijuana should be legal because then everyone will be happy.”

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If I wasn’t a klutz, Amy Lynn and I wouldn’t have met.

We sat facing opposite directions on those rows of chairs so common in airport boarding areas. I set my wife’s water bottle on the seat next to me, but it fell between the seats. The lid popped open and the bottle rolled toward her duffel bag, water pouring out of it. I stood up and sprinted around the row of seats, kicked her bag out of the way and grabbed her boarding pass which was sitting nearby.

I’m sure she probably thought I was nuts – some guy with a social disorder, running around airports kicking people’s carry-on luggage.

I explained what had happened and apologized. She was very kind about it and wasn’t upset in the slightest. After returning to my seat I asked her if she’d like to write in my journal. Her teammate/friend piped up: “She’d be perfect for that!”

Sure enough, Amy is an avid journaler and pulled out her own journal to show off. She ended up getting on the plane before me (with my journal). When she was done, she sent my journal back to me via a flight attendant. I didn’t get a picture of her until we landed in Oregon and I tracked her down at the baggage claim.

“Nice” sounds so cliche, but Amy (in addition to being a woman of many talents), is the epitome of the word. I could tell very shortly after meeting her that she is a good person.

P.S. Amy Lynn, if you happen to see this, would you be willing to send in some pictures of your paintings?

My name is Amy Lynn.

I am 6 feet two inches tall. Yeah, that’s pretty tall! But I promise I am not scary.

I love to compete – I play volleyball at a collegiate level and I am in my junior year. There isn’t much better than the adrenaline rush that comes with a hard driven spike to the floor and hearing the crowd roar. I love my team – they are truly my sisters.

I have an enormous family!

I am the middle of seven children and have loved every second of having lots of siblings.

Besides volleyball, I love to express myself through music and art. I took piano lesson for thirteen years of my life and I play with two of my best friends in a band. It’s crazy how so much emotion can be sent through my fingers. And when I do find time aside from school, work, and practice…

I paint.

I love spending so much time on a piece – just making it perfect. Yes, I am a perfectionist! I hold myself to a very high standard in everything I do, but I find happiness in success!

I am only twenty years old and I still have so much of life to experience, but if I could give anyone reading this just one piece of advice: don’t hold back. Do your best in everything you do, and don’t be afraid to let your true self shine! I have much to work on in this exact same aspect, but hopefully one day I find who I really am, and become who I want to be…oh and find a guy like my dad along the way!

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The good news is that the reason I haven’t been out and about as much is that my wife and I are expecting our second child! We’re very excited for the new addition (due in late May).

However, having a pregnant wife along with a very active toddler who is running around, drawing on my iPod, throwing my computer mouse against the wall and generally acting like a normal 18 month-old means fewer outings. I’ve also been driving to work more often (instead of taking the train) due to hectic mornings wrangling my son and helping my morning-sick-feeling wife. In addition to all that, the entire family is just getting over nasty head colds.

It’s been an eventful few weeks.

Things are falling back into a routine now, and I hope to have some new posts up shortly. I’ve also realized there are so many stories out there waiting to be told, and I obviously can’t collect them all, so I’ve decided to open up Write In My Journal to contributors! I think it would be wonderful to have dozens (hundreds?) of people out there collecting stories that can be shared on this site.

Interested in participating? Check out the new Contributors page for all the details, or feel free to email me with any questions.

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It was just after 7:00 am and Crystal was standing behind my sister and me in line at a university bookstore. They were having a sale on Apple products (educational discount plus no sales tax!) and we were both picking up new laptops. She asked me about the preinstalled software on the machines she was buying. Being a bit of a geek, I’m always happy to talk tech, and so our conversation began.

Crystal is getting her undergrad in exercise and sports science and will pursue her master’s in the same. She teaches yoga and is an avid outdoorswoman. When I mentioned that I’d never skied in Utah (something nearly blasphemous when living in this state) she asked, slightly baffled, “What do you do if you don’t spend time outdoors?”

I never would have guessed that Crystal had the difficult background she wrote about based on interacting with her. She has been proactive overcoming her trials and is now trying to help others do the same.

If I had to come up with a single word to describe Crystal it would probably be genuine. She’s one of those people who makes whoever she’s around feel important. Crystal would be a good friend: fun, sincere, and outgoing. It was a pleasure to have met her.

Person in line @ Apple sale:

My father died in a hang gliding accident the day before I was born. Before age 10 I attended a retreat in which I burned a decorated branch that symbolized my fear of my mother’s death. In my teens I exposed myself to as much sensory stimulation in search of something that would draw me into the present moment – this extended into my early 20s in the form of substances. I spent 2 months in an isolated population which allowed me to begin a longer process of feeling OK w/ being alone.

I’ve continued to take particular actions that lead towards assisting others with fear of loneliness but sometimes I forget and feel lost. What’s beautiful is that there are always reminders bringing me back to self and what I feel comfortable dedicating my life to. When ego or the external edges of life sneak in my confidence is blurred. Being humble in my lack of understanding of information and life keeps me young – curious – playful and loving. It is through suffering that I have arrived and continue to arrive repeatedly. I am not religious specifically but I learn most when my connection with spirit is strong.

I often feel people should have an autobiography to hand others upon initial meeting so that there is less time spent on potentially superficial interactions – then realize the process of love and compassion comes in all forms. I don’t enjoy talking about myself but I end up there anyways.

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I got an e-mail from Vicky the other day. I received enough comments and e-mails of concern about her that I thought it would be appropriate to pass along the happy news:

Good afternoon David,

It’s Vicky Johnson. I haven’t written you in quite some time. I’ve been really busy trying to get my life together.

So basically, what’s been going on these past few months is:

-I started school at East High about 3 weeks ago. A little late, but I did it. The reason I didn’t start on time was because my dad didn’t want to register me. He assumed that because I didn’t do so well in school the years before, the same would happen this year. So I talked to the VOA drop-in center for homeless youth, and they taught me that because I am homeless, I could register myself for school and due to a law they have (i don’t at this moment remember the name of this law), they cannot refuse me. So I registered myself for school, without anyones help. And I’m doing pretty well. I just get really anxious because this is my first time back in school in a year and a half.

-I moved into a VOA transition/group home for girls. And I will be there for the next 18 months. I can leave anyday I wish, but I think that I ought to stay for as long as I can. Get me off the streets and help me straighten out my life. And it’s getting cold outside and winters coming fast. Sleeping in parks is no fun in the snow. -I’ve done it before.

I just wanted to let you know that I am doing well. I struggle sometimes, but I’m keeping it together. And I’ve got alot of people supporting me in what I am doing.
Also, I don’t drink or smoke weed anymore. Actually, I am getting drug tested for it. But even without the drugs tests, I think I am finally done with all that nonsence. My party days are over. And to be honest,I think it’s kind of lame to get “****** up” everyday of your life and do nothing else.

Thanks for your time.

Peace, Love, and Happiness <3
Vicky Johnson.

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