Caught Between Two Worlds

I have been lamenting over getting one of those shiny new Mac Notebooks with all their bells and whistles and the little apple icon on the front that lights up when you open it. But on the other hand, I have always admired the timeless and utilitarian Moleskine notebooks, which as far as I know, only come with a bookmark ribbon and a pocket in the back, and which I can say, constitutes neither bell nor whistle. Fortunately, Moleskines are much more affordable than Macs, and I find it hard to imagine that the absolute joy and contentment of a completely filled Moleskine is even in the same league as filling up your hard drive. And while the notebook computer is a really neat invention, nothing can quite compare to the tactile experience of an actual notebook. I love opening them up and burying my nose in the spine and smelling that sweet, new-paper smell. I like running my hands over the smooth, new pages. It's even better when the pages are imprinted with the braille-like texture of writing, and I love the way that those pages crackle when you turn them. I like the corners when they're new and crisp, and I like them when they're softened by use and countless trips in your backpack.

Only recently have I come to appreciate the order and logic of graph-paper pages. For some reason I feel compelled to write in ALL-CAPS, which is a much more legible form than my usual scrawl. The squares also help me to write out kuchi shoga (the language of taiko where each sound represents a type of hit), and to document time easier. I used to like blank Moleskines, but there is something about opening a page filled with squares that is easier to face than a completely blank page. With squares the foundation is already laid out for you, you just have to decide what sits on top of it. With the blank page, the possibilities are endless and infinite, and consequently, intimidating.