sequela \se*que"la\, n.; pl. sequel[ae]. [L., a follower, a result, from sequit to follow.]

 1. An adherent, or a band or sect of adherents. ``Coleridge and his sequela.'' --G. P. Marsh.

 2. That which follows as the logical result of reasoning; inference; conclusion; suggestion.

 3. (Med.) A morbid phenomenon left as the result of a disease; a disease resulting from another.

I only write intermittently because I often use paper journals and write longhand, but there's something very different about the feel of the keyboard under my fingers and the speed and clarity with which the computer allows me to transfer my thoughts straight to a screen in printed text.  My brain processes printed text much differently than text written longhand and so my computer entries are at once more accurate and eloquent yet also more confused and abstract.  Which, now that I think about it, is exactly what my brain's inner voice is like.

 I've never been a talented speaker or communicator, though I am a wonderful listener and observer.  I am a student of psychology and neuroscience but I never bothered to attempt to understand why it was that writing longhand and speaking are so entangled in my head.  I've been an avid reader of books and cannot remember a time when I was NOT able to read.

The printed word associates with different areas of my brain.. the areas connected with comprehension of ideas and seeing through another's eyes and being, literally, inside another person's head, and absolute freedom of expression without criticism. So when I sit down at a keyboard I'm able to tap into these abilities whereas when writing longhand or speaking, I have to consider who I am speaking to, the simplest way to communicate, and also am hindered by chronic social anxiety that began when I became aware I wasn't quite "the same" as the rest of the kids on my street I was growing up with, (though I was never excluded, made fun of or looked down upon).  

Furthermore, knowing I am anonymous and yet also writing to an anonymous audience that may or may not read my entries gives me an extra drive to be creative, expressive and direct in a way I would not be if I were keeping a privately typed journal.  My explanation of events, my actions and reactions and my thought processes become more detailed and precise and as a result these entries are more valuable to my understanding of myself than any other type of documentation has ever been.     

I remember that one fateful day when Coach took me aside. I knew what was coming. "You don't have to tell me," I said. "I'm off the team, aren't I?" "Well," said Coach, "you never were really ON the team. You made that uniform you're wearing out of rags and towels, and your helmet is a toy space helmet. You show up at practice and then either steal the ball and make us chase you to get it back, or you try to tackle people at inappropriate times." It was all true what he was saying. And yet, I thought something is brewing inside the head of this Coach. He sees something in me, some kind of raw talent that he can mold. But that's when I felt the handcuffs go on.

From Deep Thoughts, by Jack Handey