So I don’t know if it is the writer in me trying to bribe me to do something, but I am addicted to buying journals.
I have so many now that I could never fill them all. I collect them like someone would collect coins. I go to the bookstore and “innocently” wander closer and closer to the journal section like it’s not even why I am there.
I turn around the corner passing all the calendars and it’s like a feeling I get when I start approaching all these different little books that are all different on the outside but empty on the inside. It’s like that feeling in the morning when you think there is no way you can get through another day and then that first sip of coffee hits your veins and brain and…. “ahhh”.
Maybe it’s the possibility of something great that attracts my attention. I have the same feeling walking into an office supply store. All those empty notebooks and folders lined up in all different colors and patterns. It’s always so appealing to me and I think it’s because not only is everything so organized and in it’s place, but it’s the sense that I am going to accomplish something. Standing in front of these empty pages makes me feel as if I am about to become super productive.
I actually started using one of my journals earlier last year to mark time and events or things that I thought I would want to look back on and remember. I seem to always have a terrible time remembering how long ago something actually happened or what I was even doing at the time.
I knew my wedding was coming up and I wanted to be able to look back to the year I got married and who I was at the time. What were my interests and hobbies back then. What were some of my firsts and maybe my lasts that year.
Maybe some day soon (if I do end up not working where I am anymore) I will actually attempt to sit down and just write. Maybe writing like this will help me attempt to one day string words together in a way that gives someone the feeling I get when I stand in front of all those empty journals. The possibility of something great.