After receiving and looking over this journal and the instructions on charming it private, I thought it would be a good idea to read another book that I've been eyeing in Father's library. It's "A Study of Graphology", which I suppose isn't the most enthralling title, but it does explain things rather thoroughly. Graphology being handwriting analysis, I mean. It seemed the apt thing to study up on, being that there will be so many samples to examine, now. Or I think there will be. I mean, there's not very much one can do with a journal, traditionally.
I don't doubt my housemates would have given over samples if I'd asked, but it never occured to me to be curious before. I just thought about how this little book will soon be full of writing, not all of it mine, and about how handwriting can be like a familiar face, when it's someone you know well - like Absinthe's peculiar way of writing the letter 'M'. I'd recognize her hand anywhere.
So I thought I'd share, since it really is fascinating, and I don't suppose everyone has a copy.
It sounds dubious, I know, but apparently trained graphologists can gather an astounding amount of information from simply looking at something you've written. Besdies creating a complete personality profile, other things can be found - health issues, morality, past experiences, hidden talents - and that's just a few. Sometimes notes from criminals are examined in this manner, to help the police to find them.
"Your brain guides your hand". A true, simple statement, but not one I'd previously given much thought to. I wonder just how much I'm revealing by how I dot my I's and cross my T's? It's a little daunting to think that everything you don't say can be read plainly if the person doing the reading knows what to look for.
Even how dark or light your writing is can show something - how much pressure you're applying, obviously, but that means something about your emotional state, about how stressed you are or aren't. Isn't that amazing? And the slant of how you write.
If anyone wants to borrow the book, I'd be more than happy to send it your way. And I'm nearly certain your local library could do the same - I'm not certain about exact copies and the like, but it shouldn't be hard to find texts on the subject. Or you could just look it up online, I suppose, if you prefer that route.
I know that's not really speculation on what these are for, as I suppose there will be a lot of, but, well. I do think there will be rather enough of that without me adding to it [being that this is a rather curious addition to the school list], and I do think they'll have something to do with writing. I doubt Professor Knightly would suggest we wear the journals on our heads as hats or something.
I'm a little sad to see Professor Sprout go. She was always such a nice woman. Not that I think Professor Knightly isn't, [I don't quite know him well enough to judge, and doubt any of us really do] but I do think I'll miss her. I wonder what changes he'll be making? Since he did quite a lot at Beauxbatons, I mean. It'd be silly to expect him to do things just like Professor Sprout did. Perhaps I should read up on him?
Absinthe would like to add, apparently, that she does not want to write in a diary. I suppose that is why she is saying as much to me rather than using the journal she got. Apparently she doesn't quite understand why cracked it open after supper and the supplementary reading, but I suppose that's to be expected, too. Tarragon didn't pay much mind to the things, either. I shall simply have to plead a liking of writing with pen and paper, despite all the technology available. It's somehow much more personal, don't you think?
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