Monday, February 11, 2008

This Chick Only Lived in February

I forgot the spiral bound notebook I've been writing in for the past week at home this morning. I guess trying to remember the notebook, my cell phone, iPod, the blue, thermal lunch sack I packed last night, and my copy of The Time Traveler's Wife was too much to handle, so the fancy new notebook was the sole item left behind. I feel naked without it.

It occurred to me recently that every paper journal I've owned in the last 12 years, pages full or nearly empty, has been started in February. Apparently there is something about the second month of the year that depresses me so much I'm not willing to talk to anyone else about it, so I write to myself instead. This February proved to be no different when I found myself standing in the aisle full of school supplies at CVS on my lunch break last Wednesday. As much as I like all of the pretty pastel colors and books with front covers branded with "Journal" or "Diary" I decided I had to be practical and comfortable if this particular journal was supposed to make it beyond the average use of 3 weeks, so I veered from my ordinary choice and went with an 8 x 7 spiral bound notebook with white floral silhouettes on the cover and a brown elastic band to hold it closed. It works like a charm and I've written in it every day.

I'm trying to teach myself to stop writing for an audience and to just write how I feel. It's been years since I've done it so I'm pretty rusty on the whole write-your-heart-out thing. I just have to remember that it's my notebook, I can write whatever I want, and I don't have to worry about anyone thinking it's boring or sappy or that I'm a total nut job, because I'm the only one who will read it unless I decide to share something. But I think I'm getting there, gradually, and it takes so much less time to write in a notebook than it does to write a post because I'm not freaking out about wording something properly or coming up with enough original adjectives. It's stupid, but it usually takes me 1-3 hours to write a Livejournal post because I second guess everything and proof read it a million times, and then I battle whether or not I should even bother posting it because, well, it's boring and I'm all too aware of it.

Ah well, baby steps it is. Besides, I am a total nut job, but I'm a cool nut job.

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