Hello, my name is Yetzirah, and I am a journal junkie.

Hello Yetzirah, what's your story you strung out scribbler?

It all began at a Ben Franklin 5 & 10 cent store in a small town in Ohio. I had grown tall enough to finally see the array of this and that they had displayed on this one aisle for children. I worked my way past the rack with the cheap suckers hanging in their cellophane wrappers. Wow, that was an eye opener right there. But beyond the red, green, yellow, purple and orange suckers was an assortment of merchandise guarenteed to make a 6 year old think of starting a life of crime. I passed miniature bottles of Coke in real glass bottles and a little wooden crate to hold them, wind up tin cars, paddle balls, teeny tiny dolls with movable arms and legs attached with elastic thread, plastic bags with a rubber ball and jacks. [Who plays jacks anymore?] There were cardboard tubes with pick-up-sticks in them and many more things I cannot remember right now. But among all this wonderful stuff, I found a stack of little tablets with rainbow colored paper. I flipped through the pages imagining all the wonderful things I could draw or write. I felt faint. I was overcome with paper lust. I thought whoever invented said tablet must be some sort of genius. I have been hopelessly addicted ever since.

As a matter of fact, the first crime I ever committed was to pinch a #2 pencil from a family friend who was babysitting me. I was found out and duly ashamed and humiliated. I was a good little girl most of the time, but the first real conscious wrong that I committed had to do with a writing impliment.

So  you see, my problem runs deep. One might also say it is hard wired in my genetic make up. But that doesn't excuse my theft. Oh no.

Today I come by my pens and paper honestly. And today I made a run over to Target to get milk after taking some packages to the post office. It's a brand spanking new Target and they carry some really great notebooks. I was in a bit of a mood, having been up in the middle of the night, unable to sleep and ended up writing in my journal about buying journals.

( Is this story GOING anywhere? If not, I have papers to correct...)

Feel free to go about your business.

ANYWAY, I pawed through all the notebooks at Target and ended up buying three of them. I hardly ever do that. I usually make myself choose just one. But I couldn't help it. I succumbed to the paper fumes ...

Now, I already have a drawer full of journals at home. And I was a little chagrined when I was putting the new ones away. Why you ask? I discovered I already HAD one of the ones that I bought today.

Here they are. The one's laying flat are the new ones.

Ben is inspecting them. He declared them practically perfect in every way.



[album 65561 Journal Inspection.jpg]

I really need to get a grip on myself. This is entirely too many blank journals. It's practically obscene.

( I could not agree more. Positively decadent. And possibly immoral. I'll have to think about it.)

Let's just bypass that whole process and I will stipulate that this does border on the immoral. I need to go on a journal diet. No question. I know my weakness well however, and I could certainly use a sponser to talk me out of further journal purchasing next time I'm in the notebook aisle...

Any volunteers?

( I wouldn't touch that job with a ten foot pencil.)