I have a notebook coming in, and I might be a tad bit excited
π On Paper, Again
How does it feel to write on paper again?
Not just any paper β but the good kind.
Thick. Grainy. Absorbent without bleeding.
The kind that doesnβt make your palm sweat or your ink misbehave.
The kind that demands respect and gives some back.
Pair that with a good ballpoint pen β smooth, deliberate.
Iβve realized I have something against too much glide.
I want resistance.
I want to feel the words forming.
βοΈ Incoming
I have a new notebook on the way from China.
It should arrive in a couple of days.
Right now, it exists only as an idea β
a future weight in my hands,
a blank presence waiting patiently.
βοΈ What I Actually Write
I doodle a lot.
I jot down thoughts, but rarely tasks.
Fragments of myself make it to paper β
never schedules, never reminders.
Those things belong to the digital world.
Calendars. Notifications. Silent nagging rectangles.
But⦠that might change.
π Intentions (Soft, Not Rigid)
I want to sharpen my focus.
Improve my access to flow.
Meditate more.
Move toward the tactile.
Toward the analog.
Typing will probably stay β
the clickity-clack still scratches something in my brain,
a comforting facade of productivity.
But paper feels different.
Slower.
More honest.
π The January Effect
Itβs still the start of the year.
I know a lot of people are doing the same thing β
buying journals with good intentions,
abandoning them a week later.
Luckily, Iβve noticed something about myself:
I donβt abandon pocket notebooks.
I just take my time filling them.
That feels important.
π What This One Might Become
This new notebook will probably be a dream journal.
Not just sleeping dreams β
but waking ones too.
Dreams as liminal spaces.
The blur between what is
and what could be.
Actuality brushing up against potential.
π For Now
Itβs all still a blur.
A blurb.
A soft idea forming its edges.
No worries, Iβll keep you posted.