Journaling

In which the author speaks of making lists and keeping journals.

I make lists. Lots of them.

Lists can break otherwise daunting tasks into smaller, specific, clear elements. Really.

You don't do stuff without a list or throw a party without making a list. Especially for a party. The who-not-to-invite list is by far the most importance list one has to duly prepare.

Then there's the other benefit of lists -- the forgetting. Once something is put on paper, under the inauspicious heading of "To Do", you can stop worrying about it. You don't have to remember once it's on the List. You can dump it right out of your brain.

It's like that with journaling. Still, try as I might, I've never been able to fill a journal, though I'm very fond of notebooks. Hardbound with narrow, crisp lines, I must have a half a dozen of them in my drawer, none of which have more than a quarter of its pages filled.

I'd like to complete one front and back, top to bottom, left to right -- fill it with ideas, private thoughts, drawings and lists. No success yet. I begin quite well but, eventually, will furiously scrawl an idea that comes too fast for neat, sane lettering. I end up with ten pages that will be meaningless in six days.

The Purist in me occasionally gets lost in details, and whose sanity is very much in question will deem the notebook void.