I have an odd obsession with paper. Paper and Ink. As weird as it sounds, when I’m writing, I have to actually physically write and in a technological age such as ours, with all of our smartphones and tablets and laptops and desktops that makes me a bit of a dinosaur(a Tyrannosaurus Rex to be exact). Nonetheless, I can’t write by typing my ideas directly into a computer, well I can but I don’t like too, I like to write. There’s just something about a blank page that I find inspiring, intimidating and alluring all at the same time. As a result of this infatuation I have piles and piles of notebooks lying around the house. Some filled to the brim, others still empty, eagerly awaiting to be filled with new ideas and new stories. And I love that, I guess filling up another notebook gives me a certain sense of accomplishment that makes me want to just write more. I’m even obsessed with the buying of new notebooks, its like a guilty pleasure. And I don’t mean composition notebooks or spiral college rule notebooks. I mean the good stuff, the moleskin type notebooks, just a smidgen-of-quality shy of those leather-bound journals. When I see them I gobble them up, I need them, have to have them, as I said, it’s an obsession, (I’m not even gonna go into my thing with pens and other writing utensils). Keep in mind, once I’m done writing I still have to type out the handwritten text into my laptop, but I don’t mind the extra step, it gives me an additional opportunity to proofread if nothing else. Now this little writing quirk would be fine in of itself, only now disaster has struck…
I’ve lost one of my notebooks! My son was born in April, I put my notebooks aside, we moved out of our condo, I put some stuff in storage, I put some stuff in my dad’s attic, put some stuff in my father-in-law’s attic, moved into a house, I hadn’t written a words in months, I figured I’d get back to work once things got settled, I got settled, I was ready to work, and I looked up, AND I’M ONE NOTEBOOK SHORT! Dear God why did this have to happen to me, I’ve tore my house apart looking for it. I’ve tore my dad’s house apart looking for it. Now I’m going to have to tear my father-in-law’s house apart looking for it! (Which is going to make the next family gathering a little awkward) But I must find it, it’s got like three or four chapters that I have to transcribe outta that bad boy!
Ah well, it’ll turn up, or I’ll burn down this city to find it!
Till next time,