With This Pen

Journaling has been a feverish addiction of mine for as long as I can remember. Consistency in journaling, when unleashed in the chaotic uncertainty of haphazard schedules, can prove to be a bit challenging. However, my obsession with the journal itself shall never cease. Holding the leather bound, cryptic collections of acid-free paper brings me sudden bursts of joy and little gasps of bewilderment. The crisp pages outlined in goldleaf, pictures, and creative expressions take hold of my attention and I get lost in a world unfamiliar to many. Choosing a journal from the shelf, I flip to the center of the masterpiece, and inhale the scent of the glued binding. Perhaps one of my stranger rituals in life, I cannot help but associate the smell with something of my past...maybe an elementary school textbook or a magazine from the doctor's office. I choose to collect journals with hopes that each one can be filled with an adventure. Some of them may sit on a shelf untouched by my magic pen, but their purpose is not to be filled with nonsense. Instead they push me to the next step.