Okay, well maybe that’s just me then.
New notebooks have always felt like new chapters in my life. When I start a new notebook, I feel like maybe I am not tied down by what I wrote in the old one. All the whinging and pining and the rants (my gosh, the rants!) are closed up. They are over. They are stuffed into a pile of old notebooks.
I actually have a lot of notebooks. Waiting. Waiting to be used. People give them to me for birthdays and stuff like that, and I’m rather behind on using them. I really miss being able to just buy a fifty cent composition book and cover it with pictures as I go on, but I understand that buying me notebooks is how the people around me try to say that they “get me.”
Back view. When you put them together they actually say Know Your Rights. And the words are the Declaration of Human Rights, if you are wondering. My friend Jess got it for me to go with my 18th birthday present. (Yeah, it took me a year and four months to get to the notebook!?)
So I’m going to take it with me everywhere for a while and break it in. Because notebooks are a little bit like shoes in that way. You reach into your bag looking for your old notebook and come up with the new one. “Oh yeah!” you say, remembering that the old one is gone.