Almost a year ago, I started my new year's resolution of writing a little bit everyday. I accomplish this through a little journal called "Q&A a Day: 5-Year Journal." The journal asks a different question every day for a whole year. When one year is up, you answer the same questions and slowly see how you and your answers change every year for five years.

I started this resolution because-- as a writer-- I wanted to make sure I was writing something every day, even if it was a little bit. However, I also started this to make this conscious effort to document my life as it passes.

I can't really say when this desire to physically document parts of my life started-- there isn't a very solid answer.

A part of it stems from the lack of documentation from I was younger; I don't have too many pictures or written accounts of middle school or early high school (then again, would I really want that? Haha). Another part comes from my fascination of when I look at my mom's old pictures, or the feeling I get when I go to my grandma's house in Ohio when I can look at the physical history of where my mom and her siblings grew up. Perhaps another part is my terrible memory.

There is something so exquisite about tangible accounts of life: writing, pictures and anything else that awakens the memory.

When I'm 95 years old, I don't want to just recall my high school prom, or when I moved in to a college dorm, or when I got married and had kids-- I want to see it, and I want to read the words on the page and become transported through time.

When I see my pictures and writing I want to feel the same feeling in my heart; I want to remember the smells and sights around me when the pictures were taken.

I can only hope to read this article again one day in 30 years and still smell the faded scent of my apple cinnamon Glade plug-in, with "Redbone" by Childish Gambino playing in the background as I feel the warmth of my heated blanket on my legs.

Memories are so precious and I want to do what I can to preserve them-- and documenting is how I've chosen to do it.

But the journey that I've taken to be more proactive in documenting has caused me to go a little crazy.

Not going to lie, I'm ashamed to admit that I've been one of those millennials to pull out Snapchat anytime something remotely interesting happens. I began to feel the need to take a picture of anything and everything when I experience something new. I currently have 1,298 pictures on my phone; my phone lags so much now because I have such little storage.

I started to notice this, and even more so when my boyfriend beleaguered me on how I take too many pictures.

So, obviously I purchased a Fujifilm Instax Mini 8 Camera (the little Polaroid camera in pretty pastel colors) to fuel my addiction.

I wouldn't know at the time, but purchasing this camera taught me a great lesson on preserving picture-worthy moments.

The camera takes a film pack with 10 pictures at a time. Film is expensive, so I had to soften my financial blow and be conscious of the pictures I took on my camera.

This showed me the value of only taking a few pictures instead of 20. It helped me remain in the moment, but still capture a moment that I could relive years down the road.

I learned that documenting doesn't have to rob you from the moment. As with anything, I document in moderation; when I look at these recollections, I actually have a moment to be transported back into.