Sticky Notes

Sticky notes were something I looked down on but secretly revered.

I’d see them stuck in books or in the files of people I admired. I never used them. For some strange reason they never appealed to me outside of this weird attraction that I associated to them because of the person who used them. They were kind of puzzling.

To me they seemed otherworldly and pointless, too neon, too bright, not traditional, not essential. In the right hands, however, they appeared as crumbs to guide you out of the wilderness and away from the evil that lurked in the dark.

One of my favorite pastimes is to walk into stationary or art supply stores and aimlessly wander the isles for hours, literally hours — don’t come grocery shopping with me, because I find it equally insatiable.

I’d walk the stationary store isles and fantasize about items I’d want to buy. I’d pause in front of the stationary section, pick up those beautifully, deep mustard yellow Manila envelopes and I’d ponder about what I’d do with them, what I’d put in them and who I would address them to.

After moments of consideration I’d put them back, let my fingers stroke other envelopes and eventually I’d continue and look at other things, such as paper and the different available stocks. The colors and weight would fascinate me and I’d imagine writing on them, or sticking…