I am getting addicted to the journal.

I’m not sure if it’s healthy or if it’s because the novelty hasn’t worn off yet.

At work I keep remembering bits of things I want to write about.

And writing about a work goal helps me to focus more.

During my breaks I’m happy because I get loud little drops of ideas on what to write next on my notebooks. And “tinkerings” I wanted to do.

I still make mistakes, but somehow this is overshadowed by the blinding positiveness of “the projects.”

Cynical other me is guffawing on the side telling me it’ll end soon and I’ll float down from whatever cloud I’m on at the moment.

She’s probably right.

That other me is my comfort zone and it’s taking all my strength not to run back to it. I’ll stick to the unknown for a while.