Notebook, get in my belly!

Image source: SEI design group

I have a problem. It's not particularly serious, but it is a problem nonetheless. Or is it? It could simply be a healthy addiction. Perhaps a slightly expensive healthy addiction at that. But here goes... I love notebooks. Notepads, diaries, Filofaxes, exercise books, journals, and just plain old notebooks.

I love them so much that if it were possible - which it probably is - I would roll one up, stick notebook paper inside of it, light it, and smoke it. (Actually, I could do that, but it wouldn't have much of an effect other than to cause me to cough my lungs out.)

I love notebooks so much that I would grow my own paper penis, cut a hole in the notebook, and make sweet love to it all night long. There - that's better, and a tad more practical. (I just had a mental image of my paper penis spitting out liquid paper.)

It's not that I ever write in them much, either. I mean, I use them for taking notes during lectures and tutorials at university... But that's it, really. It's just something about that fresh paper. When I buy a new notebook, I have high hopes for it. I wonder about the information that it will someday contain; whether its sole purpose is for a place to spill all of my secrets, hopes and dreams, or just a place to write my weekly grocery shopping lists.

That's the problem. I buy them, but hardly ever write in them. I may begin to write in them, but forget to continue - or simply lose motivation. Sometimes I avoid writing in a brand new notebook out of sheer fear. Fear of guilt. That's mainly if it's not one of those spiral spine ones, though. If I wrote in a fresh, new notebook, I would feel guilty, as someday I may decide to use the notebook for another purpose... And I couldn't bear to rip out any pages. If I ever did that, I would avoid using the notebook altogether as I wouldn't be able to bear looking at the thin, ragged strip of paper along the spine of the book.

That brings me to another problem - I'm highly obsessive compulsive. Especially in regards to this notebook business. I'm one of those anal (haha!) people who will only use one colour pen in one book. This includes my lecture pads for university. It needs to be blue, or black. And it needs to be either blue or black throughout the entire book, or I would feel a strong desire to toss the book out of the window. Or rather, never use it again.

A glorious Moleskine notebook.

But anyway, I'm currently experiencing feelings of lust towards one particular type of notebook. The Moleskine. I've never actually owned one of these so-called beauties before, but I want one. A lot. Many bloggers have described the Moleskine notebook as being the "only real notebook". They have mentioned the beautiful, smooth feeling of the paper under the pen. Oh my gosh, that's what I want!!

You know those pens that cause your handwriting to be a lot neater than usual? Those pens that you actually look forward to using. That's what the Moleskine is like in my lustful fantasies about it.

I will search, and search, and search. I will find you, Moleskine notebook. And you will be written in like a mofo.