So, here is the first glimpse of what I've decided call my non-linear notebook. As you can see, it's actually a box (filled with notecards and tabs for things like bookbinding, poetry, to-do, home, blog), so it's not something I plan to carry with me as is. What I plan to do is use this like a hipster pda (ingenious idea I'd say!) and carry a stack of cards with me to make notes on the go, which I then file into the correct category in this box. I'm pretty much always home so this works for me since it is at home that I need the notes I've scribbled down. If I were working outside home, I'd probably have to figure out how to turn this into a more portable version. The box isn't too big, though, it's just a little over 4"x4"x2" but it is a bit heavy with 300+ cards inside it. I will be posting photos of the innards too, it's just that by the time I was taking my photos today I was losing daylight quicker than I could snap photos. The tutorial is also definitely coming together. I photographed the stages as I was making his box so there's a photo heavy tutorial post on its way to here. I'm doing my best to write the tutorial in a manner that allows you to really understand the basics of making a cloth hinged box and to use that knowledge in the making of a box made with your own measurements and materials. This is something I often wish tutorials focused on more; it is so precious to not only be able to make a copy but to be able to use the structure in something entirely new.

I've been putting off this blog post, or blogging altogether. I've felt the need to say something but haven't known how to talk about it. It's not like I can merely blurt out that my grandfather died and leave it at that. My living grandparents are now down to one fierce grandmother - that and the death of my Pappa triggered all sorts of thought processes. As a someone suffering from chronic depression, I realize it would be really weird if I shared how I've envisioned my own funeral, so I'll skip that part... Another thing I've been thinking a lot is how I find it very hard to be sad about Pappa's death; he didn't remember who I was for a decade or so, and slowly he forgot everyone else too. I was more sad about his dementia than I am now about his rather sudden death. I am glad I can now think of the times when he still remembered who he and everyone else was and not be frustrated by problematic nature of a person as a some sort sum of his memories. What are we if we lose our history, in chunks, big or small? I was never close with my Pappa despite the fact that he had lunch with my family every day for years and years after my Mummi died. Of the time I can remember the majority he couldn't remember much. I never learnt to not get upset about answering the same stupid questions over and over again. The more he forgot me, oddly, the easier it became for me. It was easier to be a stranger visiting his son's family for lunch than to be the granddaughter that was never ever planning to move back to the small town he had spent his entire life in. In general, I find it easier to be a stranger to people. I don't know if I even should try and change it. I feel like a shard of glass in the world of magnets.