Thursday, October 02, 2008

My Thoughts on Notebooks

I love notebooks. I love to write in them, receive them as gifts, decorate them, create projects in them... I cannot think of a good reason not to have lots of notebooks in which to express yourself in some creative way (preferably with something crayola). That is until today.

Yesterday, I re-packed two suitcases, a carry-on bag, and a "personal item" all according to the airline's policy. I am bitter I have to pay $40 to take them on the plane but I'll get over it. Luckily, my aunt is sending me two boxes that include some sweaters, college sweatshirts, and my winter coat. (It is nice having a relative who works for a shipping company.) Because of my method of travel (and lack of personal transportation for the moment), this is all I can take with me to my new destination. I've become an expert packer who's learned to discern the necessary from the frivolous. I am taking only what I need for now and will decide on the rest later. In my discrimination of items, I did not bring any notebooks. They are heavy & since I cannot bring my box of creativity, I thought it would make me sadder instead of happier. (Yet I chose to bring the famous ceramic "hugs & kisses" jar because sharing my savings habits seemed important to me. Plus, I really really like the jar.) I woke up this morning trying to figure out the best way to write. I write every day. I have on and off for years. There is a container full of words in my parent's basement. (Actually two, mine & my sister's. She lives on an island. We're quite the duo.) I discovered the emotionally overpowering ways of writing in a hidden document online. I had to stop writing because the words flashing across the screen made me uncomfortable because I would never write them in a notebook. It never occurred to me writing in a document and writing in a notebook would be different. My only reasoning is there is almost zero potential for anyone to "find" your notebook and delve into the closets of your mind. It also never occurred to me I was subconsciously censoring my writing out. Apparently I have been doing just that. Gosh, it is overwhelming to let the words pour out and messily spill all over the page without a care. They are so honest it is blinding. My dad always says some things are better left unsaid. I wonder if that includes unwritten?

I think I might miss the colors, pictures, and glitter too much to give up my notebooks completely. We shall see...

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