After browsing 4 different stores, I finally purchased a new journal.
My specifications, though not precise, are many:
- Lines must not be spaced too far apart, or too close together. Too far apart and I feel like I’m a kindergartner, too close together and I can hardly see what I’m writing.
- Cover should be pleasing, but not overly distracting or gaudy. I’m not opposed to decorating it myself, if I have time and an idea for a suitable look.
- Notebook must have enough pages to make it worth my while, but not so many that I feel like I’ll be writing in it for ages. Admittedly, my most recent addition to my line-up has fewer pages than most, but its other qualifications deemed it worthy enough.
- Paper must not be too thin nor too thick, and appealing to the touch. I often prefer recycled paper, because I can feel good about it being made from recycled materials and it usually meets my requirements.
- Price must be in a reasonable range. Said range may vary depending on how much I like it.
But there’s something about a brand new journal. The cover of mine reads, “She’s a dreamer, a doer, a thinker. She sees possibility everywhere.”
Possibility. That’s what gets me. So many blank pages, anticipating, waiting, made for words to come and fill them. Endless possibility. As I flip through pages already filled, I find themes of uncertainty, hope, hurt, redemption, change, and more, filling the pages–weaved through the stories of where I’ve been and what I’ve done and who I’ve talked to. And this journal, this lucky little thing with its turquoise-y hued cover and slightly-cheesy cover, will become a recorder of those possibilities and stories.
It’s more that possibility though. I find the act of putting pen (or pencil, as I sometimes prefer) to paper to be an important one. Words appearing on a computer screen don’t bring me nearly the sense of satisfaction as ones on paper. On a screen, they seem much more temporary–with a few swift movements, an entire page can be gone, as though it never existed. Sentences and paragraphs can easily be moved around, a comma added here, a few words removed there. Temporary. Shifty.
But on paper? I must think more carefully as I write; the words are there to stay if they’re in pen, and even in pencil, even the best of erasers may not be able to completely take away the marks. Writing on paper makes me slow down, think, consider. And that’s why I love it.
Possibility. Permanence. Paper.
Til next time…
p.s. Do you prefer writing on a computer or paper? Why?