My roommate says I have an addiction, and I have a confession to make. I unashamedly in love with said addiction. As a collegiate, my schedule is nearly as hectic as a city street at rush hour. Daily events such as classes and work leave me running from one end of the campus to the other. Not that I live on a large campus, but since I often wear semi-professional to professional clothing due to academic honors societies and my job as a president’s ambassador, running is not all that fun. Thus, with my thinly veiled rant out of the way, it makes sense that my planner would go everywhere with me in order to minimize any dashing about. However, unlike many college students who keep a planner, I am helplessly addicted to my lovely Mintgreen creation. After thinking things over, I decided to come up with five confessions of a planner addict. If you’re not one yourself, I hope it may convince you to join the madness. If you’re already a honorary member of the CPA (college planner addicts), then I hope you enjoy my confessions.
1. I’ll start things off by being honest. My phone isn’t full of the “typical” college girl selfies. They aren’t really my cup of tea. Snapshots of my planner are a different story. This post is just a small sample of the pictures that my silly planner has slipped into. Sometimes I try to not make it obvious, but I just really like taking pictures of my planner’s journey through life. After all, it’s my constant companion for only a year — I have to make sure I have memories.
2. I don’t have a safety blanket; I have a safety planner. My anxiety (lovely thing that it is) spikes whenever I loose sight of it. It sits on the desk when I study. During class it has a perch right next to my notebook. At night before I go to sleep, I make sure it’s settled nearby on my dresser. Goodness, I even take it with me to Walmart. The few times I’ve managed to venture off without it, my brain spiraled toward 0% functionality. Funny thing: when I first bought this planner, I wasn’t completely sold. Somehow my apprehension to use it has grown into severe apprehension when I loose track of my sanity lifesaver.
3. Some people may disagree, but planners are definitely a fashion accessory. Actually, I found some college-budget, gold nail-polish the other day and bought it simply because of the fact that it matched the gold embossing on my planner. In my defense, the gold will match several of my work outfits, and it’s the perfect autumn color. My planner is also the perfect autumn color combination… It matches maroon, green, black… Basically all of my favorite colors. Yes, I plan to match with my planner. Has nerd status been achieved yet?
4. Once you become addicted to planners, it’s like coffee. You really cannot function without it. Granted, I mentioned that before, but I’m going to talk about it in a different light. If I don’t write things down in my planner, they typically won’t happen. Heck, I even scheduled an entire weekend just to watch season 10 of Criminal Minds. Can we please appreciate Spencer for a moment, okay? Okay. Actually, I may have titled that binge-watching-session “Spencer Appreciation Day”. Anyhow…. If don’t write something down, I’ll forget. One time I didn’t write down a class, and I completely forgot it was on my schedule. Moral of the story: if you become addicted to planners, be prepared for it to become a near drug. There’s no escape from the madness.
5. If I do manage to get things done without them being in my planner, I will take the time to write down said accomplished tasks in my “to do” area before marking them off. There’s just something deeply satisfying about scratching out chores, even if they’ve been finished since yesterday. Okay, so that might be strange. Still, it’s an undeniable urge to record all my victories. On the other hand, I might have the tendency to whiteout my unfinished tasks. I’m not fond of their smug, inky stares.
And there we have it: five (strange) confessions from an (eccentric) planner addict. Do I dare ask if anyone will share their strange planner addiction confessions? Indeed, I dare.