I have a Moleskine.

I have a Moleskine with my named stamped in gold on it.

It was quite a lucky happenstance when I got it. We were in Tokyo visiting a friend who flew in from Hawaii, and we had some time to kill, waiting to meet up with her. So after a quick donut breakfast at Krispy Kreme, we headed to Tokyu Hands for some art, craft, kitchen, hobby window shopping. On the stationary floor, Moleskine was holding a special sale of their journals with personal engravings. I had never owned a Moleskine but my artist friend had one (or a few) and I admired it (them). So I picked up a medium-sized, unlined journal in black and got my name stamped on it.

Since that day two years ago, I have filled it only halfway. I don’t know if this is a good thing or bad. I try very hard not to judge myself to harshly when I don’t fill it daily. In this Moleskine, I have drawn in ink and pencil, sketched birthday and Christmas presents, wrote poems and song lyrics, stippled myself into oblivion, and more.

I admire artists who fill theirs full of amazing art. My Instagram feed is chockful of images of people’s art in their Moleskines. They inspire me and make me super jealous at the same time.

I am not sure what stops me from using it daily. I stare at its side, seeing the black marks hitting the halfway point from pages filled. Filled most recently with ink covered pages of abstract drawings like this one:

I know I should use it more diligently (I literally carry it with me everywhere I go) but again I don’t know why I don’t. Maybe like most things when its nearby you don’t need or want it but when it’s not accessible at all, you miss it, need it, want it to be filled with whatever crazy ramblings happen to trample your thoughts.

Ramblings like this post.

Every time I pass a Moleskine display, I want to buy another one or three. I hope that one day they make a Moleskine that has both lined and unlined pages in one book. I’d totally dig that.