I’ll Pay in Monthly Nickel Installments
It has been a long time in the making, but the original Pink Sparkly Notebook, the 75-cent assemblage of paper bound between glitter-drowned, magenta plastic covers, has been surreptitiously filled with my poignant, albeit cliche and whiny, account of 2014.
So now, it is time again for me to stroll into the nearest Dollar Giant or Shoppers Drug Mart, find the best and brightest high-school dropout, and explain:
“I’m in the market for an extremely gaudy notebook. Pink is obviously a non-negotiable- but leopard print is also a huge selling point, faux fur highly encouraged. I’m willing to offer double your retail price for something that smells like cotton candy, or plastic. You guys sell glitter here, right?”
^ All this to continue the brand.
For those who have not read my first post, Hot Pink, and Sparkly, in which I explain my risky, if not entirely godawful, choice of domain name, I will simply state that I fell prey to a sensation known for making asses out of so many others from Generation Z: I was trying to be ironic.
But though I’m not crazy about the stereotypical facet of teenage diary-keeping, I would highly recommend to anyone, especially to someone as emotionally mangled as me, that he/she keep a journal. I have always been quite utilitarian, so the biggest draw for me is the writing experience gained from such constant practice. The more I blog, and the more I jot down in a journal, the easier it becomes to articulate my complex thoughts and ideas. I’ve found that this has improved my academic performance as well as my ability to communicate in relationships. But in a more touchy-feely way, it also helps with my anxiety and stress, and with understanding and sorting through my feelings in a healthy, non-disruptive way. Even when I’m not feeling stressed or conflicted, journaling helps me to become proactive about my own happiness by allowing me to recognize patterns in my thoughts and behaviours that could be harmful if left unsupervised. It also helps me to understand myself better, which is invaluable for when I’m trying to make major life decisions.
I went to therapy for a binge-eating disorder a few months ago, where they overwhelmed me with written techniques to “affirm” and “enlighten” and “empower”, but I found the only way that I could follow through with any of it was by sneaking it into my regular journaling; hiding affirmations in something I will actually read is like putting my medicine in a massive glob of peanut butter. And who doesn’t like peanut butter?
Not someone with a binge eating disorder, that’s for sure!
Bye for now,