Feeling: Wide-eyed.
Listening to: Dashboard Confessional - The Places You Have Come to Fear the Most
Reading/Watching: Harry Potter, until my eyes will close.

Is there anything more pretentious and frivolous than the journal aisle in Barnes & Noble?

When you have just enough money for one, they immediately become the answer to all your problems. The one thing you require to fulfill all dreams of happiness lies in that one little bundle of cardboard cover and recycled lined paper.

When you have no money, it is very easy to see how ridiculous they are. The ones with the dried flowers that are going to flake off as soon as you take them anywhere, the teeny tiny ones that give me hand cramps trying to write in them, the clever "left-handed" notebooks which can be two dollars cheaper if you buy a normal one and flip it backward. And of course the "Poet" notebooks that have little scripty poetry-prompts and suggestions in gold ink to "help with writer's block."

I won't deny how they entice me, though. I leaf through those thick pre-lined pages and think of all the poems and scribbles that could fill them, how satisfying it is to put something on that very last page.

Then I came across one made entirely of recycled, handmade paper. It was thick enough to hold three hundred sheets, but instead it was probably lucky to fit in maybe fifty of those off-white, wrinkly pages inside a lumpy, gray-brown cover. So you're paying fifteen dollars for fifty pages. And people actually buy these. Riiiiight.

Someone up in corporate has obviously sold his soul to Satan somewhere along the line.

(oh, and saw The Ring. Scared the living crap out of me. Evilevil.)

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