the dire diarist

Pardon my Lemony Snicket-style post title. I've been cleaning out my room and closet and I just realized how many journals I have sitting in my bedside bookcase alone. I have stacks more in my closet dating all the way back to elementary school! Do I really want to have my diary from third grade hanging around all my life? I'm not sure, but I can't bear to part with it yet. Ditto for my middle school diaries.

In high school, I switched to digital journaling -- at first just in a text file on my computer, then when I got internet access, on blogs, diaryland, LiveJournal. I began to write on paper again after high school, and have journaled steadily since then.

I seem to get a journal or two every Christmas and I almost always use them. I just started that green woodland creatures journal on the right in March and I'm already past half done with it, so I bought a few new ones with the gift card my grandma gave me for my birthday...

Heart, heart, heart! I really prefer a larger-sized ledger to these smaller ones, but there's lots of gorgeous options available in the smaller size.

In the back of one, I tested the set of Staedtler pens I also got and wrote down each of their names, which aren't listed on the packaging but are available on the website. How pleased was I to see Van Dyke Brown? It reminded me of Bob Ross.

I also taped in a little strip of all the washi tape I've shamefully collected as a guide to what they each look like off the roll.

I love emptying out my noisy brain into these things. It's mostly boring listing of activities, notations of worries, and grousing. If I die young, bury me in satin, and also just throw away these journals.


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