My Fancy-Pants Journal

This morning I listened to Back to Work, episode 23, where Merlin talked about notebooks and it reminded me of my fancy-pants journal.

I call it my fancy-pants journal because I remember buying it five years ago and how special I felt. I paid $30 for it. It has leather binding, gold (painted?) page edges, and artisan paper. This book is gorgeous. I got back to my office and promptly wrote my name in the cover with my very best script.

That was the end of it. The fancy-pants journal has been in my drawer for FIVE YEARS and I haven’t written a damn thing in it.

I’ve taken it out, clicked my pen, even scratched my head as I flip through the pages. (Did I mention they are artisan paper?) No matter how hard I try, I can’t bring myself to write in this “journal”.

In contrast, I have no respect whatsoever for my Field Notes pocket notebooks. I scratch ideas in them with terrible penmanship. I jam it in my pocket. I tear pages out (perforation or not). And when I’m done with them, I throw them in the trash, without ritual. So where does this leave me? I’m taking the fancy-pants “journal” home and giving it to my 9 year-old. Five years is enough.