Doing Things The Old Fashioned Way

I totally suck the big hairy one when it comes to keeping a paper journal.

This year, I undertook the challenge to keep a paper journal. Not even 20 days into it, I stopped. Thirty-nine days later, I can't even find my journal. So much for doing things the old fashioned way.

Ever since I was a little girl, I've loved the idea of keeping a paper journal. Of course, way back then they were called "diaries." Girls carefully dated each entry and began each written confidence with "Dear Diary" before spilling the dirty details of the boy they were crushing on. And if there was no current REAL boy crush, then there were plenty of entries on how one day Donny Osmond would walk into the room, the sky would turn purple (his favorite color!), and a choir of Latter Day Saints would sing soft love songs in the background.

Growing up, I had plenty of diaries. I collected them like Jeffrey Dahmer collected body parts. The diaries would be beautiful... pristine. But then I'd go and murder them with a few odd entries, cast them aside for a month or two, and they'd never be the same again.

Today I still collect diaries, but now they're called "blank journals" and I can't get enough of them. I have some girly ones. And Mary Engelbreit ones. I have a few cool retro ones. And a variety of others, ranging from the delicate to the radical. The only thing they all have in common are lines. That's right. Lines. This is one girl who can't write straight without lines to guide her.

For this project, I had all intents and purposes to go buy a new journal. Why? Because I couldn't bear to mark up one of the ten thousand blank journals I have already. I think deep down inside, I knew I would ruin it. I would either write in stupid stuff, or make lots of lineouts. I probably also knew that it would be a project that I would start... and then abruptly stop. So, I was going to buy a journal I didn't care for, so I wouldn't mind so much if it ended up abused and abandoned.

I didn't, though. Buy one, that is. Instead, I looked through my collection for a journal that might inspire me to pick it up everyday. And I found one. The front cover was done up in teenage girl style, with a mirror in the middle. Above the mirror was the phrase "Hello Gorgeous." Now, who wouldn't want to write in a journal that proclaimed them as gorgeous every time it was picked up?

Apparently I wouldn't.

I mean, I did. I wrote in it religiously for three days straight. Then I missed a day. Then I wrote in it again. And missed another day. And wrote in it again.

Then I missed two days in a row. Not to be discouraged, I picked it up again and scrawled off a page or two. But then I put it down and neglected it for a week.

Feeling like I was woman, hear me roar via pencil, I picked it up again. Again, the writing didn't last long. And finally... it's nowhere to be found.

Without it, the dream of keeping a paper journal has died before my very eyes. More importantly, who will tell me I'm gorgeous now?