When I see a notebook, I think of the stories that have yet to be told.
The notes that have yet to become ideas fully manifest.
An unrequited love, a terrible shame to bear.
Loops, swoops and curls. Writing for writing's sake.
Some thoughts that barely make it out of the pen, only to be erased.
Proud moments in our lives that remind ourselves the struggle is worthy.
I see the quiet, contemplative thoughts that surface after a day of turmoil.
The to-do's, plans well laid that never go as planned.
The cursing, dark thoughts that have their place on pages instead of the internet.
A roller coaster with peaks of optimism, followed by troughs of pessimism.
An appreciation of beauty in all of its amorphousness.
It's life as a human being, inside of a human being.
--This ode to the notebook has been brought to you by the wonderfully colorful Rhodiarama notebooks, which just arrived at the office this afternoon. I can't help myself when I see such a beautiful cover, full of silky smooth ivory paper.
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