For years I have kept a journal. At times it has been a place to rage, at others to rant and more often than not a place to reflect. In my personal struggles, spending time putting words to paper helps me sort through my inner chaos. I find that writing long hand on physical paper is my best mode of expression during these times. Fingers tapping a keyboard is not the same as feeling the paper beneath my hand, feeling the friction as I move my pen across page. Even the smell of ink from a cheap ball point pen can be soothing. A mode of writing that does not glow with light and is not accompanied by the tap of keys is a rare experience. Instead of reaching for my nearest screen, I reach for a battered notebook and search for a pen. I love that faint sound of the pen moving across the surface of the page. It is slower, it can’t be copied, pasted or cut, but it can be scratched through and marked over. It can also be ripped out and crumbled, thrown away and retrieved. Take a little time to put words to actual paper. How long has it been?

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