Ever since I could remember, I have been fascinated with movies that show that dusty leather-bound journal with handwritten notes and pictures. I have always wanted to own one for my pleasure. Now, though with a computer I have the world wide web with me but I realize it isn't the same.
Okay, so this isn't a beauty product but writing is beauty. Pressing pen to paper may feel antiquated to some. For me it is stimulating. Holding a pen and guiding each stroke onto pulped wood reveals a new dance. The ink blotting strokes synchronized with the words in my brain make me believe that I am actually making words dance upon paper. I can gather my thoughts from my vast array of files in my past, present, and possibly future. My worldwide web is my imagination--a box of originality that no one can explore. Every stroke of my pen explores the crevices of my mind. This is why I wish for a red leather journal from The Orange Windmill. Nothing can replace the feeling of pen hitting paper.
Am I old fashioned? To some I am, but to me I feel the love of words coming alive. Yes, I need a journal to forget the finger-pouncing trauma of my computer keyboard. I need to explore the vast hills and valleys of my mind!