
(Look what they did to my beautiful boy (they sent him back to me, safe and sound and with a fast, simple process))
And but so but I've done some ~Bullet Journaling~ for the past decade or so*, and for the first time I've recently had to confront a new to me problem: What do you do when your "put everything here" repository ... isn't ... here?
The premise of the Bullet Journal for me is that the one notebook is where I can, should, and do put everything. As Darren Bauler once said to me, "I just want to put everything in one place, if I have too many projects, I spend too much time worrying about what thing I make goes in what bucket, which distracts me from making things." Or as the book has it: "The idea is to be consistently unburdening your mind. It will be able to rest assured, knowing that everything is safely recorded in your notebook." (Carroll 86)
I use most of the canonical collections: daily log; monthly log; future log. Mostly I use these in the absolutely stock version from the original videos and book. Even that version had a little too much "mindfulness" and process for me,so I have mostly not followed the more recent iterations, which seem to be first evolving into a (n even) more self-helpy place, with "write your life" (?) replacing "your life's operating system" (???) and subsquently offending some folks by pulling a lot of material down and stashing it securely behind a paywall.
I mention these core collections and the way I use them to highlight two things:
- I use this 'sucker every single day (the daily log), and
- I put basically all of my scheduling thoughts into it (this month's monthly log or the future log); and
Eventually I grabbed an old Field Notes and at least got back to daily logging, which had the desired effect of "unburden"ing my mind a bit and helping me hold the day-to-day more or less steadily on course. But still I noticed a kind of stasis, an unwillingness to cut bait and start a new notebook; I ended up holding in a sort of abeyance any and all plans more than a couple days out. I felt like I was a little bit in limbo, and it didn't feel great.
As I draft this, it's June 30, and the great folks at Alaska Airlines have, as of yesterday, reunited me with the Traveler's I'd left on an airplane some two weeks before!** I plan to spend a chunk of my evening patching the holes in it left by my couple weeks without it and un-stuck-ing myself by doing some planning; making my monthly log for July and updating the future log as needed.
But I think it's also going to be worth reflecting a bit on the not-great quality of dependence I feel about this tool. After all, the point of a tool is to increase capacity when you use it, not to remove capacity when you can't use it.
I will also be thinking a bit about NOT LEAVING MY FUCKING NOTEBOOK AND TWO FAVORITE PENS ON THE GOD DAMNED AIR PLANE.***
* It would take some digging to figure out exactly when. Certainly I had adopted the notions of collections by early 2019, and I read the early round of publicity the method got, even tho at the time I was more a hipster PDA guy, due mainly to my depraved lust enthusiasm for binder clips.
What I can't immediately determine is when I started daily logging. It's at least possible that I actually started daily logging as a work thing (thus, in notebooks that are jobs ago and long gone) and only later brought it home. Hard to say and boy do I not feel like going through that shelf just at the moment to figure it out.
** Perhaps more importantly, Alaska lost and found has reunited me with all the stuff that was crammed into the notebook, especially and most notably two of my very favorite pens, both gifts from Noodles, my beloved Caran d'Ache 849 and Kaweco Liliput. The lost and found crew—or the journey the notebook went on—did break one pen, but I think I managed to glue it back together, so that's a small price to pay. That they used the built-in elastic band to close the notebook up—vertically, not horizontally—I will forgive, even though I never, ever use the band, either properly or, as they did, improperly, because it's a good sign that there's something lightly wrong with the cueing the tool gives you, if you can put it on wrong and are led to do so. It's a lesson, you see.
*** In the spirit of full disclosure: This only occurred to me at 8:30 p.m. on July 2.

















