Because I want to

I feel like writing.

I don't know if it was the movie that left me smiling.

Or the journal whose pages are nearly used up and my intention to not wait until the last few run out. I think its time is up to descend up in the heavens that lies in the corner of my closet in a vaguely french-themed wine and cheese against a lemon background shoe-box [Just in case you were wondering what heaven might look like]

I have two to choose from.

There is one that is fit for someone with oodles of wisdom, who wouldn't need to tear pages out occasionally, who wouldn't need a spiral-binding. But I like spiral bindings very much. I usually don't tear pages out but maybe I should let myself have the freedom to do so just in case, no? And maybe I'll choose them long after I have some wisdom [or atleast enough to know I don't need a blog post for an excuse to waste 4 pages to start scribbling in some new stationary!]

I'm choosing the one that will let me craft its cover to my liking. I want to see where it goes. If it is too bad, I will just white-paper it and pretend the disaster underneath didn't happen.
And start all over, maybe with a template from Martha Stewart Living.

I feel like writing. Again.

Maybe all there is. Is this summer's symphony.