I am Completely Obsessed With Notebooks

I am completely obsessed with notebooks.

Hello, my name is Ivaylo Durmonski, and I am an addict.

I’ve been hiding this part of my identity long enough. Pretending to be a beacon of virtue and reason, but the truth is far more sinister. I can no longer maintain the story that I have only good habits and that the sneaky touch of bad behavior patterns has never upset my soul.

So, here it goes…

I’m irresistibly drawn to notebooks. I just can’t get enough of them. I crave the smooth texture of the cover, the crisp scent, their untouched pages, their promise of endless possibility.

Yesterday, I bought five brand-new notebooks given the fact that I have at least a dozen of unopened ones stashed in my desk, still with a fresh smell of new.

I don’t regret that I bought them. Actually, regret didn’t even come near my intellectual headquarters. It was a completely rational and well-thought-out purchase.

“But why? Why more?” my wife asked, slightly irritated.

I didn’t have a what you can call a logical answer.

“I simply love notebooks and they were on sale. I am going to use them.”

And I do use them.

Here’s a photo of just part of my filled-up notebooks:

I use notebooks for many things now…

• I track my expenses, a semi-successful attempt to control my natural tendency of consumption.
• I sketch grand plans, most of them destined to remain forever caged inside the notebook itself.
• I scribble to-do lists, a cruel reminder of all the things I’ll never have a chance to do.
• I create my first drafts, a chaotic mosaic of crossed-out words, childish doodles, and incoherent arrows trying to glue my random thoughts together¹
• I use them as a daily catch-all, a space where I try to capture all the bizarre thoughts that I want to explore further.
• All the way down to exploring my childhood to figure out was I always this strange or did something happened to me along the way.

To be honest, I try not to think about my “way with notebooks” as an addiction. I see notebooks as the perfect way of arranging all the sporadic thoughts that pop in my mind. In this sense, I view notebooks as a way of self-expression. (Or probably this is just a good story I use to cover my problem, who knows.)

Yet, several days after my refill of future idea catchers, I found myself in the library, standing right beside a tall Leuchtturm1917 notebook stand and thinking about getting just one more.²

This experience reminded me that I’m not alone in this affection. The internet is teeming with fellow addicts. I remembered about all the comments under journaling YouTube videos. The comments from people who act no differently than me, hoarding a bunch of notebooks and driving their loved ones insane.

Why do people do it?

Why do I do it?

At first, I wasn’t sure.

Is it due to good advertising?

Well, no. To be honest, I don’t think I ever saw an ad about notebooks. Which is kind of strange, ads are all over the place these days. How come notebook sellers don’t need ads?

Is it peer pressure?

Confirmingly no.

None of my friends or family members use notebooks like me.

Is it due to my extraordinary good handwriting that it’s so outrageously elegant that inspires me to practice it more and then share it with the online world so that other less-capable-with-the-pen people can envy and joyously try to copy my style?

Wish I could say yes, but it’s 100% no.

Most first-graders have a better handwriting than me.

So what is it then?

I’ll use this post as a space to explore my addiction.

What Inspired Me To Start Using Notebooks

It all started as an attempt to track my daily expenses. I wanted a clearer picture of where my money was vanishing. Because as a teenager, soon to be twenty, money has always been this rare resource that you never have enough of – not that much has changed since then.

Thus, I bought a cheap, really cheap, pocket sized notebook where I started recording how much money I’ve spent each day and for why.

The grand idea was that if I kept tracking every little thing I bought, I’d eventually figure out what I could stop wasting money on. The end goal? More cash for, you know, important necessities. Things like going out to clubs and buying more fancy clothes to cover up my insecurities.

To be honest, I’m not even sure if I really bought the notebook, or it was simply lying around in my house. Yes, it was that cheap.

Anywho…

Eventually, I realized that you can do a lot more with a bunch of glued-together-pages.

For instance, with absolute clarity, I remember that despite not being particularly interested in reading at that age, I somehow managed to flip through the contents of the books in my house. And from those rare encounters, I started rewriting quotes. Though-provoking snippets of text that struck me as irresistibly intriguing. Little fragments I wanted to remember and revisit, even that I didn’t quite understand why at that time.

The next thing was thinking on paper.

• Why do I think this way about a particular subject?
• Why I found this interesting/not interesting?
• How can I start a conversation with complete strangers without seeming desperate? (I was interested in “pickup artistry” at that time).

While now, it can seem obvious that your thinking is encouraged when you write, at that time there wasn’t a plethora of YouTube bros misquoting research papers they’d barely skimmed.

People learned through experience.

And what I learned is that when you write down a question and begin answering it on paper, your thoughts start to unravel and organize themselves in surprising ways. The simple act of writing transforms vague, scattered ideas into something clearer, almost as if the pen itself is pulling the answers out of you.

Finally, what I also learned is that writing isn’t just about capturing thoughts. It’s about liberating them.

And probably the most common way this works is the concept of writing things down to free up mental space. Instead of trying hard not to forget an idea – and spiraling into self-loathing when it inevitably slips away – you simply write it down. With that, you can let it glide out of your working memory, reassured that it’s stored somewhere safe, waiting for you whenever you need it.

And that’s just a sampling of the available journaling techniques.

The interesting thing, at least for me, is that the lifecycle of doing anything tends to follow a traditional pattern: first, you get excited. That excitement builds until it hits a peak, where you feel that you’ll do this thing forever and ever. Then, inevitably, boredom appears, and it destroys the enthusiasm of doing the thing. And finally, you abandon the thing altogether, lured by activities that are newer, shinier, and more popular.

That’s not what happen to me and journaling.

I started taking notes when I was in my late teens, early 20. I’m now 36. That’s more than 16 years. And 16 years later, I’ve found the act of keeping a journal to be more meaningful and profound than ever before.

Here’s why I think this is so…

What Excites me About Keeping a Notebook

Owning notebooks, and the act of note-taking, is something I relate to an image of a mage, or a sage philosopher who’s overflowing with wisdom and needs extra terrain to express his ideas.

These days, people often refer to notebooks as something like a second brain, but that feels too academic, too blunt – almost mechanical. I don’t know, the term just doesn’t sit right with me.

I prefer to call my notebooks wisdom-gatherers.

There’s something undeniably magical about turning your messy and chaotic thoughts into something tangible. Something you can see, tweak, pounder and revisit.

While I don’t think that I’ll ever come close to a wisdom-maker who is worth studying in school, the concept that parts of your life and ideas exist somewhere outside the fleeting moment of the present is absolutely stunning.

Because think about it for a moment…

Today you thought about starting a new job. Or about writing a novel. But a week later, you don’t quite remember what you thought about. You might hold some vague concept of your prior aspirations, but the precise details of your thought process will likely dissolve into the vast ocean of forgetfulness.

A notebook, however, can act as a vessel. A keeper of the many moments that make up your existence.

In this way, it becomes a chronicle of your past experiences. A guardian of memories and ideas that allows you to summon them back from the depths of your swampy mind simply by revisiting your writings.

But it’s even more than that.

The act of writing things down, especially inside a physical journal, is, for me, an act of clearing up the mess inside my head.

When I don’t write my thoughts down, I start to feel cluttered, as if my mind is teetering on the edge of an implosion. I picture myself as a hapless juggler, struggling to keep everything in the air. The moment I drop one thought, I attempt to catch it, only to let even more slip through my fingers.

For instance, when something in a book captures my interest, I start imagining all the ways that idea could be applied to my life. But seemingly out of nowhere, unrelated thoughts about a work project bursts onto the scene, trying to shove everything else aside. I scramble to hold onto the book-inspired idea while simultaneously clutching at the work-related one. Suddenly, my brain turns into a chaotic arena of clashing ideas, each one shouting louder, vying for dominance like a riot in full swing.

If I don’t write them down, I get really uncomfortable. I start to forget things, and the chaos in my mind grows louder, like a jungle of unfinished thoughts pressing against each other.

But there are even more ways keeping a notebook helps…

Writing Things Down is a Form of Spontaneous Self-Expression

Ever since I read Escape from Freedom by Erich Fromm, I can’t stop thinking about the concept of spontaneous self-expression.

Erich Fromm mentions that the primary way for an individual to feel less alone in this strangely fragmented and alienating world is by expressing their free will.

It’s about not repressing parts of your personality to adjust yourself to what others might like. It’s about becoming transparent to yourself. Saying what you really think.

When we think about spontaneity, we often picture children. Since their psyche is still not totally corrupted by the demands of the outside world, they feel and think what is really theirs. They don’t pause to wonder what others might think of their words or actions – they simply act.

In the adult world, the type of individuals who get closest to showcasing their emotional and intellectual potentialities are the artists. Those who channel their inner worlds into something raw, honest, and deeply personal.

Yet, this is a dangerous game. If what you share doesn’t intrigue the masses, you are considered a fool, a clown, a failure. Only if your spontaneity earns the crowd’s approval does it become respected and encouraged.

Since we internalize this social dynamic in one way or another, often without even realizing it, we begin to hold ourselves back. In our desperate attempts to be liked by most, we end up loosing touch with our true interests. We might feel connected with others on the surface, but we isolate ourselves from the deeper, authentic parts of who we are.

Do you see where I’m going?

A blank page offers a safe space to unite with yourself. To express your deepest desires. To articulate what you truly think. To outline the world you want to live in. To even say crazy things without worrying what the treacherous others will say or think about these absurd, illogical, and even radical – why not? – ideas.

Because when do you feel the happiest?

Sure, when you get rewarded in some way. When others praise you or recognize your efforts.

But more than that?

When you can actively express your authentic self.

And what better way to self-express than to write down your thoughts and ideas.

As Fromm writes in Escape from Freedom:

“For the self is as strong as it is active.” Erich Fromm

Writing things on paper grants you with this ability. The ability to say what you genuinely feel and think without any pressure to correct yourself as you’d typically do in a social setting.

There is no greater source of pride and happiness than to think, to feel, and to say what is ours.

Why I Keep Buying More Notebooks Than I Need?

As I just pointed out, a blank notebook offers a space to organize your thoughts. To shine light on the part of ourselves we often try to suppress.

But I still haven’t answered this: Why do I keep hoarding notebooks?

At first, I didn’t have an immediate answer.

Sure, the psychology of buying offers one explanation: Each new purchase releases a hit of dopamine, sparking a fleeting sense of satisfaction. It gives us a temporary high.

But here’s the thing: my notebooks aren’t new.

I typically buy the same type of notebooks. Yes, sure, I might occasionally slip up and find myself owning a cover that doesn’t quite fit my thematic all-black shelf, but that’s a rare occurrence. So, it’s not novelty primarily driving me, it should be something else.

What I think draws me is the idea of what a new notebook can be.

You see, my current notebooks are all messy and unorganized. A few pages might be dedicated to a book project, then suddenly shift to scattered thoughts on the last book I read, and then, out of nowhere, a to-do list of random tasks for the day appears.

But if I get a new notebook… “Ahh, I’d have the opportunity to make things better. This time, I will be more diligent and more organized. I will create an index! Hey, I might even try adding stickers. And maybe, I’ll finally write a bit more like an adult.”

From a psychological point of view, each notebook offers an opportunity for a fresh start. A way to plan better. To reinvent myself as a calm, collected person who knows exactly where their to-do list from three weeks ago is hiding. To finally conquer the chaos of my own mind, as if a new cover and fresh pages could somehow untangle my perpetual mental spaghetti.

Since I have so many ideas about different things, the perfectionist in me imagines that I need a separate notebook for each one. Each idea should be explored in a different notebook for better organization.

But the reality is that my notebooks are usually filled with a chaotic mix of thoughts, as I mentioned earlier – a swarm of projects, reflections, and impulsive to-dos all clashing for space on the same pages.

It’s not that I need another notebook, per se. It’s more about the opportunities that notebooks offers. Each new one offers an avenue for a fresh start. A new beginning. One where all my past failures are neatly buried beneath the crisp pages, waiting for me to write a flawless plan that I definitely won’t abandon by next week.

Ultimately, I keep buying notebooks not merely for their appearance – although I do have my preferences – but for the promise they carry.

So I am not actually buying a new notebook. I am buying the opportunity to organize the mess in my own head. An opportunity to carefully explore my ideas. To mend the fractured parts of my psyche. To transform the chaos of my thoughts into something clearer and crisper.

And while I keep wrecking my notebooks with bad handwriting and lack of organization, I still prefer it that way.

Because when I try to conform to society’s vision of what a notebook should look like, I begin to lose touch with my spontaneity.

I know I’ll never win the Instagram competition for the most aesthetically pleasing notebook – flawless handwriting, perfect symmetrical layouts, and not a single crossed-out word in sight. But that’s not my goal. What I’m after is the experience that journaling offers: the unfiltered exploration of my inner world and the revelation of my deepest thoughts.

Some Closing Thoughts

So, yeah. I’m a notebook addict.

Now you know my secret.

Still friends? Or are you backing away slowly, clutching your digital note-taking app like a lifesaving raft, terrified that my disease is contagious?

That’s fine. Go ahead. Stick to your sterile, cloud-synced, autocorrect-infested notes. Enjoy the cold embrace of soulless data storage.

Meanwhile, I’ll be here, surrounded by my glorious stacks of ink-stained paper, scribbling away like some deranged scholar from a forgotten century. Because for me, the smell of fresh pages is a whisper of untold possibilities, and the act of writing is a small, rebellious stand against the inevitable entropy of my own mind.

And yes, I’ll probably buy another notebook tomorrow. No, I don’t need it. But need is such a pedestrian concept, don’t you think?

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Footnotes:

1. Actually, this very post was first written inside one of my notebooks.
2. After trying out different brands, I now consider Leuchtturm1917 as my go-to brand for notebooks.