It’s a new year, a new start and time for a new journal.
Do you journal? If you don’t, now is an excellent time to start.
A journal has been at my side since college. They began as a way to pass the time and boredom by writing stream of consciousness before a doctor appointment, meeting a friend for dinner or sitting by myself in a coffee shop. Since modest beginnings, they’re now a catch-all for my life: jot notes; transcribe interviews; sketch; poetry; lists; reminders; overheard conversations and remembering the time of my life. It’s the one chronological thing in my life, a free write without critique or proper grammer.
Each journal lasts weeks or months, depending on where I go and what I do. Do I write in it every day? No, but I’m prepared for inspiration or boredom. I always carry pens to write with, at least 2 colors, but that’s a story for another day.
I write to the end of each book, not wasting one page, but at the end of December 2020, my navy soft-cover Moleskine told me it was time to let go.
I needed to start something new in 2021, to leave 2020 in the pale, stupid past. My journal agreed. The four cream-color lined pages at the back will stay empty of writing. Fitting, that emptiness. We parted strong.
My journals-in-waiting rivals anyone’s TBR pile. The stash box holds gifts, presents, souvenirs, apologies, purchases, decorations and everything in between. Which one will speak to me? Write in me.
The first one I picked up, first only because of how the journals were organized, was a Moleskine special edition LEGO hardcover. I have been craving hardcover for awhile, needing something sturdy to support and organize my purse. I placed it aside, needing to feel every one of them.
The journal that enters 2021 with me
What did I want? Ring bound. Stitched. Small. Pocket size. Square. Lined. Cream blank pages. White lined paged. Blue grid. Decorated pages. Thin lines. Wide lines. Hardcover. Soft cover. Bare cardboard cover. Fabric. Faux fur. Glitter purple covers. One might think too many choices, but I adore options.
It came down to LEGO and owls, owls only because of its stitch binding and softer firm cover. Will it fit in my purse? Yes, but it’s wider and I could struggle with the zipper. Does it slide into my writing bag? Yes, but it could bend too much. I was trying too hard to justify not using another Moleskine. I wasn’t feeling it. It didn’t make me happy right now. LEGO it was.
There’s a real LEGO block on the cover. I guess that’s part of the “special edition” to it. After unwrapping the book, I saw and felt how the block’s hard, pointy edges could scrape everything from the inside of my bag to my fingertips. I peeled it off, sacrificing some fingernails with the hour-long yanking procedure.
No sadness “ruining” the book. My journals are not pristine. I have plans to use that LEGO block on an altered cigar box I’m crafting. As for the ripped cover, I will cover the torn square with something, but I don’t know what. A sticker seems obvious, but what? For now, the the space is mostly glued down and feels solid enough.
My journal and I are happy. We breathe the open air. We both live to start a new year together.
Here’s to you finding your writing pages in life.
