I started a bullet journal in July 2016. It made sense since it was right in the middle of the year. Six months had passed. We had another six to go. It was a logical place to start. So, I ordered a nice little notebook and started journaling. Then came December. I hadn’t gone through the whole notebook but I figured I could use the rest of it for drafts of my design work and zentangles. I really wanted to start a new journal in the new year. So I ordered a new notebook and started journaling. Again, a logical place to start. Jan 2017. Unfortunately the quality of the paper on the new notebook was pathetic and I couldn’t use many of the pens I wanted to. The ink blotted and bled like somebody had paid it to do so. So, I ordered another notebook. That one arrived a little more than a month ago. But now I had a new problem. I couldn’t start a new journal in the middle of February. That would make no sense. So, I did what I do best. I put it off and then I put it off some more and then I put it off a little longer. Now I’m in the third week of March and still not close enough to a ‘nice round number’.
And then it happened. A few days ago, I woke up in the middle of the night and it hit me like a freight train! Why in the world do I need to wait for a ‘nice round number’? What is so “nice” about that number anyway? And why this obsession with nice round numbers and logical times? Why don’t I just use this opportunity to break this ridiculous habit of waiting for some arbitrary day or time? Why don’t I start journaling right away instead? What would happen if my Journal started on the 23rd of March instead of the 1st of Jan or July? In the process of waiting for the damned “nice round number”, I’ve missed out on tracking my weight, body fat %, food log, water log, workout log, meal planning and everything else that I used the BuJo for. So, I have decided to start the 2017 Bullet Journal today. What’s more? I’m going to take this one step further and use the remainder of my old notebook from last year. I am going to lock up my obsessions with ‘nice round numbers’ and ‘new notebooks’ and throw the keys away.