I journal. Someone may have told you that.

It has been my pleasure for many years to write my thoughts on paper and in notebooks. In 1995, I began journalling in a more serious manner... in a legal pad on yellow paper I resolved to write 50 creative words a day. I got tired of legal pads and in 1998 I began Artist's Way morning pages, drivel written on loose leaf pages.

In November 1999, I started writing in notebooks. Heavy duty, double spiral bound, one hundred pages of college ruled 20 pound paper. I finished five in 2000, and five more in 2001. But in the end, I was writing merely to fill the pages to complete my obsessive-compulsive goal.

2002 is all different. I am writing in a small book. I am writing for pleasure again. And more so than writing, I am creating. I've almost come to the end of this notebook, and it is brilliant to page through my meanderings.

Pages of color. Doodles and sketches. Printouts are pasted in. I have pages of themes, scrapbook feel. Quotes, I love quotes. And fun prompts. Goodness, creativity, ideas galore.

It has taken me four months to fill these 70 or 80 pages, and what does it matter except that I enjoy experiencing my notebook again.