“Words are powerful — you both discover and create who you are by your words.”

-F. Buechner

I received a new journal for Christmas. Lined paper, beautiful floral cover, just the right size for a full year’s worth of introspection. Exactly what I needed.

My old journal, while still not completely filled, was becoming outdated. I desperately needed a new one, if for no other reason than to simply encourage me to write again.

See, writing in my journal is one of my favorite pastimes. I never do it as often as I’d like, because I don’t get around to it or I’m too busy — whatever. It is important, though, and it’s something I need to do more often.

Writing allows me to ramble about my feelings and concerns without having to bore any of my friends. If I’m going through a difficult situation, I can write it all down to help me come to a conclusion.

And, if at some point in time I become either incredibly famous or obscenely rich (neither likely considering my chosen profession), I can sell my old journals to allow others to see exactly how I made it big.

But best of all, I get to reread everything I’ve written.

Every once in a while, when I’m bored, avoiding homework, or some combination of the two, I get out my old journal to laugh about the frequently funny and occasionally insightful things I wrote.

I was 16 years old when I got my old journal. I was full of teenage angst and ready to pour out my soul in words, so I wrote about everything from broken hearts to problems with friends to concerns about the future. It’s all in there. Each phase of my life during high school is clearly illustrated in my journal.

I wrote about all my failed relationships. The boy I dated for two months who dumped me for a blonde junior, the boy I desperately wanted to notice me, the boy who still hasn’t figured out that I liked him as more than just a friend.

(You remember that old junior high way you asked your friends who they liked: Do you like him, or do you LIKE HIM like him? Well I LIKE liked this guy.)

I wrote about my friendships, too. All the fights, the miscommunications, the botched slumber parties. Everything in those incredibly influential relationships is carefully jotted in my journal.

I also wrote about my future. Throughout high school, I always thought there was somewhere else I wanted to be, something else I wanted to be doing. I thought college would be my opportunity to really accomplish something.

When I was reading through my old journal, two entries in particular struck me. They were both about my impending college career. I hadn’t made my final decision yet about which school I was going to attend, and I was pensively anticipating my life after leaving the halls of Lincoln High School.

“This is probably the most exciting time of my life, and I love it,” I wrote during November of my senior year. I was excited about everything in my future, and I couldn’t wait until I was that cool, grown-up college girl.

Then, in February of my senior year, I wrote, “I’m immersed in the preparation for graduation, college, etc. It’s exciting and frightening at the same time.” I wanted to leave, but I wasn’t ready yet to let go of that scared little girl I had always been.

I wrote about the unrest I felt at leaving everything with which I was familiar. I knew at that time that I would not be temporarily leaving for school, like most college entrants. I would be leaving home for good, since my family was relocating to Iowa. I knew I would never be back to the place I grew up.

I also wrote about the anticipation I felt at finally being able to go out into the real world — to grab life and take advantage of all of my opportunities. All I wanted was to leave my little world and explore everything the big world had to offer.

Reading that journal entry over gave me insight into the girl I was not very long ago. I had absolutely no idea what was coming my way.

At that time, I still thought I would be attending the University of Minnesota in the Twin Cities. Little did I know that two years later, I would be the opinion editor of the Iowa State Daily.

Life changes so fast, too fast for most of us. But it’s necessary to remember who you were and where you came from.

The proverb beginning this column is inscribed on the front page of my brand-new journal. It reminds me that the person I was is an important part of the person I am.

I created that person through my words in that old, tattered journal. I will continue to create myself through my words now.

And, through my journal, I will hopefully always discover the little girl who is so much a part of me.

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Sara Ziegler is a sophomore in journalism and mass communication from Sioux Falls, S.D. She is the opinion editor of the Daily.