I bought a journal…

…and I’m not sure why.

I mean, seriously.  Most of you know I’m a bit of an over-sharer when it comes to the interwebs; I try not to post what I eat for breakfast on facebook, and I try like hell not to get too cryptic and passive-aggressive on twitter (with varying degrees of success).  I blog…not at much as some, but more than many.  I was once dubbed “storyteller” because I have a tendency to prattle on about this really cool/funny/weird thing that happened the other day…

Yet I’ve been thinking for a while that I want a journal.

Maybe it’s because several of my lady coworkers have them, and they always look vaguely intentional when they open them up to take notes.

Maybe because they are so perfect in design: the right size, consistency and weight.

Maybe it’s because they’re just pretty.

Maybe it’s because there’s a lot in my head that I don’t share, believe it or not.  And someday, when I’m famous, someone will put my journal in a glass box in a museum somewhere.  Hey, it could happen.  🙂

Or maybe it’s because I want a place to keep to-do lists and little moments of reflection that are either too mundane or sentimental for social media.

Who knows?

On Saturday, I got some really good news.  The kind that I can’t share on this blog.  On Sunday, I went to the bookstore, bought me a journal, and wrote that news, and how it made me feel, in my journal.  I will probably blog about the news at some point.  But I love that it’s written down, in my crappy handwriting, in my new journal.  It was a big moment, and I wrote it down.  I just love that.

Is this a phase?  Perhaps.

But it’s so pretty, isn’t it?  And it has a little magnet closure on the flap.  And it’s a map of the world that I want to get lost in.


Do you keep an actual physical journal?  What do you use it for if you do?

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