I feel like I say this at the beginning of every personal post but this one has been a long time coming. Really. I’ve had this post in my drafts for about three(?) months now and, honestly, after several rewrites it’s not even recognizable anymore. Originally, I wanted to talk about how my recent stationery addiction was getting out of hand – I had even several anecdotes all typed up and ready to go – but although I could talk about notebooks and pens and papers all day long, I found myself just plain bored with that blog post idea.
Don’t get me wrong, my stationery addiction is still a struggle I have to deal with but, after some internal digging, there really isn’t anything interesting about it other than my clinical need to fill a void inside me. While I didn’t altogether scrap that blog post idea, I also didn’t really find myself all that motivated to see it through. But then I fell into a very specific rabbit hole in YouTube: the bullet journaling community. The number of plan-with-me’s and stationery hauls and journal flip-throughs I’ve watched over the course of a few weeks cannot possibly be healthy. Those videos, however, got me really motivated to take bullet journaling seriously.
Wow. I haven’t written one of these in a while. And by a while I mean literally not since last year. Somehow every time the idea of writing an Epistolary post pops up in my mind, another, more topical idea elbows its way to the front. Speaking of, I actually still need to write a Sequel Sunday for The Heart Forger…
But not just yet.
Since it’s the first day of the month, I figured that I should at least try to start it off right. And what better way to do that than by reviewing the first two months of the year in a loose and casual personal post. It’s weird because 2019 so far feels like it’s gone on for much longer than two months but at the same time like not much time has passed at all. A real paradox, I say.
It’s been almost a decade since I got my hands on my first ever journal. I was in high school then, just recently coming to terms with the fact spilling words on a page was the most satisfying and comforting feeling in the world for me. Ma, I think, got an inkling of this newfound passion of mine and got me this thick and clunky journal for Christmas and although I only kept at it for about three months – and considering how each day had a full page dedicated to it, a full page that I was obligated to fill regardless of how inane my day was, I think I held out well enough – my 2010 journal was what sparked my love for daily journaling.