
In Defense of Ugly Bullet Journaling
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I’m trying to get my life together this year. One way I’m doing that is to tackle my ever-growing to-do list. But I’m not just trying to get stuff done (which, according to my friend Nikki, is the slogan for my astrological sign—holla at me, Aries!). I’m wrangling my list itself, which at this point is composed of dates on the calendar on my fridge, reminders stuck to my front door, digital lists, paper lists, and a flurry of stray sticky notes with cryptic messages I don’t always understand when I finally round them all up.
Learning this lesson was exactly what I needed to get my life together. Bullet journaling hasn’t worked miracles with my organization yet. I’m still at the beginning of my bullet journaling life. But it has helped me remember that seeking perfection shuts down my efforts. The fear of being imperfect has stopped me from trying too many things. An imperfect effort is better than not trying at all.
If you’ve been wanting to try bullet journaling, but you don’t have magic calligraphic handwriting, don’t let that stop you. Don’t let your imperfections prevent you from doing the things you want to do. Do them anyway. Revel in your messiness.
If you, like me, are still at the beginning of your bullet journal journey, take some advice from these experienced Rioters. Check out:
I have tried using all-digital calendars. For my work as a freelance writer, I keep tabs on my due dates in Asana. My personal life resides in iCloud, and my cousin, knowing how forgetful I am, creates a Google appointment the very moment we agree on future plans. In other words, my life is a hot mess. I have read all kinds of self-help and productivity books, but nothing seems to help. No matter how many times I read Eat That Frog! by Brian Tracy, I still manage to do the easy tasks first, saving the hard stuff for last. You Are a Badass by Jen Sincero got me to start meditating. I’m still disorganized as hell, but at least I’m not sweating it. All this time, I’ve been avoiding bullet journaling. Why? It looked exactly like the kind of Pinterest-y perfectionism that would give me a daily panic attack. That’s the opposite of what I want, you know? The point of being organized, at least for me, is to reduce the stress, not create more. I kept trying other things. I made lists on el cheapo Steno pads from Walgreens. I have bought $60 premium datebooks, thinking the price would scare me into actually using them. (Spoiler alert: No.) I have even taken to emailing myself pressing tasks. Word to the wiser than me: don’t do this. With 1,184 unread emails judging me from their little red ellipse at the corner of the app on my phone, I can safely say that this ain’t working either. So after years of avoidance, I have finally given into the inevitable. I have joined the cult of bullet journaling. And I have to say: it isn’t so bad. That’s because I’m letting my bullet journal be ugly.I’m cleaning off my ridiculously messy desk and finding all sorts of odd, cryptic notes I’ve written to myself. what does it mean? pic.twitter.com/POL99HxpZz
— Rebecca Renner – rebeccarenner.bsky.social (@RebeccaRennerFL) November 15, 2018