Recently, I started carrying a pocket notebook again—replacing my slim stack of 3x5” index cards, held together by a humble binder clip.
What changed? A new way of using an old friend: the 3x3” Post-it note. Somehow this tiny square changed the game for me.
And the moment I slipped that little Post-it–enhanced notebook into my pocket… I knew it. I knew what was coming. This always happens.
A Pandora’s box of chaos cosplaying as curiosity.
Spirals
Suddenly, everyday errands sprouted detours: pit stops at Muji, slow laps through the stationery aisles of big-box stores. Not always to buy—mostly to research.
And oh, the research.
The pocketability of 3.5x5.5”, 3.5x4.25”, or 3x5”. Staple-bound or thread-bound. The GSM, the grain, the finish. How many pages in a pack. Lined, grid, dotted. Tight Japanese style 5mm spacing versus roomy 9/32” US college-ruled, or something in between.
Then came the online rabbit holes. Bulk packs versus premium singles. Cost per unit breakdowns. Off-brand sleepers versus the usual suspects: Field Notes, Moleskine, Leuchtturm 1917.
Each question spawned another:
How durable is the spine? How does the paper handle a water-based gel ink vs. oil-based ballpoint ink? What’s the sweet spot between portability and write-ability?
Rabbit holes within rabbit holes.
Noise
All that time. All that attention. All that energy poured into the ergonomics of simply carrying a notebook and pen together. Measuring prototypes against prototypes. Debating tradeoffs like a tiny product council in my head.
This is why I usually prefer to standardize. Whenever possible. As much as possible. Stock apps. Stock defaults. One notebook. One pen. One tape. One timer. Pick a thing and stick with it.
Not because I don’t notice the details—but because I notice too many. The noise gets overwhelming. So I try to funnel it into intentional setups. Declared and defined.
This is my pen. This is my tape. These are my timers.
Technique over tools. (Stop obsessing over the tools!... Come on Q... You know this one!)
Intrigue
And yet… sometimes, I can’t help it.
Standardization is the seatbelt. Intrigue is what makes you unbuckle it.
Because this is what it looks like—what it feels like—when I’m interested in something. Noise is unbearable when you don’t care. But when you do, noise has a way of turning into music.
It’s chaotic. It’s indulgent. It’s (wildly) inefficient.
And if I’m completely honest? It’s fun. I enjoy the process. I enjoy the mess.
The chaos, the rabbit holes, the noise—they’re not detours. They’re the texture of curiosity. The sound of being alive to a thing.
That detail might feel trivial, but it’s training yourself to notice. To compare. To test. To judge. And that’s not wasted time. That’s reps in disguise.
Sometimes you have to get lost in the sauce. That’s how you figure out the secret ingredient—and what’s just filler.
Because sometimes, getting lost is the only way to find your way.
P.S. Wanderings is a company that makes stationary. I have a couple of their Travelers style notebooks. Good stuff!
P.P.S. Happy Stationary Sunday y'all!
