Journaling used to be something that I was forced to do, and is now something I love to chose. When I was in therapy programs and hospitals being treated for anorexia, I was always told to "journal about it." Feeling sad? Journal about it. Feeling angry? Journal about it. Feeling happy? Probably journal about it! Once I was able to be the one to decide, hey, maybe I want to journal, journaling became freeing. I now like to journal during my subway commutes to work, which are about an hour long from the CELINE corporate office to my apartment in The Bronx. I write in my little pink lecture notebook, the words all squiggly from the twists and turns of the D train. I write about whatever I want. No one tells me to write. And I must admit, sometimes my motives for writing on the subway surround the idea of looking cute and mysterious, just in case some cute boy steps on the subway. But once I'm writing, I'm lost in it, but in the very best way, and boys on the subway are the very last things that matter.