Yesterday I thought I had a wonderful new idea about making journals and sketchbooks from old books I had chosen for their wonderful covers. I was absolutely crushed when I looked at journals on Etsy. Guess what? It's already being done! Here I thought I had come up with such an original idea. I am now, more than ever before, convinced that there is absolutely NOTHING new under the sun! The only thing original about everything we do is put our own stamp of individuality on things.
I guess what really bothers me about this discovery is that I would not want to be seen as stealing someone else's special design. I did think of it - just not before someone else. I am still going to make these journals because I made my first one last night, and it turned out beautifully. I used deckle-edged paper and it looks really handsome. Very masculine with an eagle and e pluribis unum on a scroll under the eagle. So that is my stamp of individuality and my interpretation of an upcycled, repurposed book!
I also had a new comment on my blog today. I have a friend who lives about twelve miles away, and for whatever reason, we don't see each other often. She's been blogging for several years, and I read her blog often just to keep up with what is going on in her life, since I don't seem to be be able to keep up with her by telephone. Anyway, I am one of her "followers," and I guess she didn't realize I was following her until today. Anyway, she commented on one of my posts that she couldn't figure out who this "Glue Girl" person was that was stalking her. When she looked at my blog, she knew the cat was out of the bag. Now she is making some kind of blackmail threats about stories of glue messes and hot soldering irons and other sordid affairs. Whatever you may read concerning any glue stories or anything else along those lines, DON'T BELIEVE IT! I BEG YOU! NOT TRUE! I NEVER MADE A GLUE MESS! I NEVER . . . well, maybe a little of it is true, a tiny piece, just a corner of the truth. Maybe a spot of glue might have been somewhere it shouldn't have been. Once. Only. I swear . . .