Tuesday, January 12, 2016
If there’s one thing I’m truly crazy about, it’s notebooks. Yes, those bound papers held either by string or spring, ruled or plain and come with different sizes and covers. They can be used as journals or for taking notes, of course, hence the name, ‘notebook.’ If I have a love affair with words, I have a fetish for notebooks ever since I can remember. Buying them when classes would start excited me more than anything else. Now that I’m not going to school anymore (to study or to teach), I still go to the stationery section of a bookstore to scour for them. Sometimes, just buying one beautiful notebook would make my day.
There’s something about writing in notebooks that beat pounding on the keyboard or clicking the mouse or typing on touch screen android phones. I delight in running my hand over the smooth surface of the pages and bask in their scent. My hand and fingers dance with joy as they slide with my pen on the paper as if pouring down the thoughts which would like to escape from my head down to my neck and shoulders and out into my arm and hand. The notebooks are mute witnesses to my passion in writing, welcoming my every story, my every expression of joy, pain, anxiety, fear, anger, opinion and whatever comes to mind as I write.
I have kept my favorite notebooks from college. I used to have what I called a “scratch notebook.” Every semester I would get one and take notes in class (with doodles sometimes) in that notebook. I would then transfer the notes to the individual subject notebooks, elaborating on the lectures. That would be my way of studying back then. Since high school, I would cover my notebooks with paper from glossy magazines or ads from Reader’s Digest so they would be different from those of my classmates.
I would keep a notebook even at work where I would list down names of clients and their needs when I was at the bank and my notes for classes when I was teaching. I also have a regular “planner” or a record of the day’s events (even as food journal) which I have kept every year since 1988. And I have this little blue notebook where I list down my “Things to do” every day. Old habits die hard so even if my phone can do that job, I’m still keeping this little blue notebook. There’s a sense of accomplishment for every crashed out thing to do at the end of the day.
Now, I keep a notebook next to my bed which I also bring with me when I go out of the house. Who knows when inspiration would strike? At my age, my memory would sometimes last shorter than when I say “What was that again?” I use notebooks nowadays to write down the thoughts which I would patiently transfer to my PC and eventually share online.
Taking notes of my thoughts…delightfully noteworthy.