I have a notebook I bought to write in a while back and when I started this blog it became my blog diary. The other day I had it out and was considering whether to write or not when my Husband decides he is going to use it for scratch paper.
Needless to say , he was rather offended when I said, “No!! You can’t write in that notebook!!”. He did not understand what the big deal was, even when I explained that designated paper (ie. paper I have designated a certain purpose to) is basically sacred to me and can NOT be marred by another purpose until it has fulfilled the first one.
There is just something about a complete notebook; It looks, smells, even exudes freedom and inspiration. It is full of potential; full of life. But it seems that with every wasted page, every piece that is torn thoughtlessly away, it loses a little bit of that life; its pages do not shine as bright. It seems to get a little sadder.
Not too many people understand, or know, or even care though. It’s just bleached dead tree matter to them. How sad that no one realizes that that on which we write, draw, paint, or whatever, was once alive and that force still faintly glimmers across each blank page just waiting to become something great.