Just like the new Moleskin…

Disclaimer: the purpose of my blog is to gain a little insight into my life, happenings, etc., especially for those family and friends not getting to experience it as it happens with me here in KY. It was never intended to be an online “journal” of sorts–the type that bears my soul. This post however, is taken from my journal for a reason…You’ll get the parallel…just keep reading…

It is so amazing to me the journey ones’ life can take in 18 short months. That’s where I find myself looking back at the beginning of this journal–or journey perhaps. Midway through my first year as an Area Coordinator. Oh, what a different world I live in now. SO different.

I’m nearing the end of the journey I’ve taken with this journal. 2 trips to Mission Arlington, New England, no friends, friends, confidence, doubt, worry, anger, confusion, pain. All in this one book.

With about 10 pages left and a week or so of writing, I find my introspective, reflective self weighing in.

My new Moleskin journal (#3) sits at the bottom of the bookshelf/nightstand combo next to my bed. It’s still wrapped in celephane. Prices went up. A $2 increase since my last Moleskin purchase. Hmmm…

Where will the next journey take us? Definitely into a world with a new job, new colleagues, a new boss. New challenges. New frustration. New Opportunity.

My life feels a bit like my new Moleskin. Blank pages, ready to be filled. Journeys yet to be taken. The unknown is scary, yet beautiful. There’s something nice about a new journal. The pages are fresh, untainted (which—that IS the purpose of purchasing such an item), crisp. It is purchased knowing that it will change. Dramatically.

I know it’s gonna change. Not exactly sure when. Things will be a bit different at first. The tightness of the spine. No coffee stains on any pages. Eventually I’ll ease into it and wonder when the change even happened. It won’t feel new anymore. The Moleskin will become dated and I’ll realize one day I’m halfway through the journal. We’ll travel to new places, have new coffee stains and a plethora of pens to grace the pages. We’ll get caught in the rain and the ink will bleed. It will possess the character it was created to–the unknown character that each owner is also unaware.

The canvas may change, but the story remains the same.

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