Pocket Writings. I like it, I don't like it.

In the writing course I took last year, we did an exercise I absolutely loved to help spark ideas. It was about making a list of likes and dislikes. It always puts me in a good mood when I reread it.

I firmly believe in the healing power of escritura. So whether or not you love writing, call it a journal, a notebook of ideas, or an “everything notebook” as Carmen Martín Gaiteused to call it—try making your own list of likes and dislikes. Share it with your partner and friends. I’m sure it will lead to some fascinating conversations. In this post, I’m sharing mine.

Before this (the gift of the "Everything Notebook"), I had, of course, already had many
notebooks in my life. But both during school and my
early days as a wannabe novelist, I had always assigned each one a specific purpose. The
difference now was that, with this one, I was invited and given permission to throw everything in
—messy, jumbled, with no hierarchy or order—as it came
like those drawers in playrooms that only stop accepting more stuff once they’re too full to close.
seguir admitiendo objetos que la circunstancia de estar ya llenos.

Carmen Martín Gaite

I like it, I don't like it

I like the smell of coffee coming from the moka pot. I like the soft feel of Cala’s fur. I like getting into bed with clean sheets. I like the brush of their cold, bare foot. I like the color of their green eyes with hints of blue. I like Ziggy Alberts’ songs playing on repeat. I like the road to our new home, with a view of the sea. I like learning new things every day. I like finishing series we’ve started. I like the feel of a book in my hands. I like how my used socks smell. I like embracing my differences. I like doing math exercises, and chemistry ones too. I like their fingers tracing my back. I like the sound of typing keys. I like to-do lists. I like crossing things off as I complete them. I like red wine. I like watching Cala sleep. I like the sound of my mother’s laughter. I like the way my grandmother looks at me—attentive, amazed—as she listens to my stories from the past few weeks. I like her armchair, shaped to her body. I like stretching out my foot in bed and brushing against theirs. I like a warm blanket on bare skin. I like the sun reflecting on the turquoise cove. I like brown M&Ms and blue Sugus. I like the blue and beige chess set I bought last month at a cute little downtown shop. I like storms. I like the light rain soaking me as I walk. I like to toast while looking into someone’s eyes. I like cheap flights. I like the trips still to be taken. I like llonguets with camaiot. I like sushi. I like dark chocolate melting in my mouth. I like how a whisper sounds. I like watching someone draw. I like the sound of a confident piece of chalk on the blackboard. I like the cool morning breeze during walks by the port. I like flowers. I like new pencils. I like people who dress differently. I like surfing. I like watching clouds change shape. I like making words out of car license plates. I like stumbling upon my favorite song on the radio. I like concerts. I like the moment you take your heels off after a party. I like the sun on my skin. I like long hugs. I like firm handshakes. I like smart people. I like the smell and feel of my new chocolate scrub. Have I mentioned I like lists?

I don’t like the feel of the sharp rocks on the cove digging into my still-tender feet. I don’t like the stringy bits in boiled green beans. I don’t like ice in wine. I don’t like smurf-flavored ice cream. I don’t like Juanolas. I don’t like laundry that still needs to be hung. I don’t like the smell of smoke inside a plane. I don’t like freezing-cold air conditioning in summer movie theaters. I don’t like the seam of socks against the sole or toes of my foot. I don’t like being lied to. I don’t like fake smiles. I don’t like spelling mistakes. I don’t like seaweed brushing me as I enter the ocean—though I know that, if anyone is out of place there, it’s me, not them. I don’t like too much future. I don’t like people who don’t listen. I don’t like my handwriting. I don’t like weak Wi-Fi during a football match. I don’t like loud talkers at the movies. I don’t like arrogance. I don’t like phones with message or email notifications pinging. I don’t like calls from internet, electricity, gas, or mobile phone providers. I don’t like foot massages. I don’t like people who mock others. I don’t like the slurping sound people make with soup.

I don’t like yes now, no later. I like honesty—people who look you in the eye when they speak. I like the intensity of first times. I like handwritten letters. I like fire, watching it hypnotized. I like the sound of a violin played by someone who knows how. I like dark rye bread. I like meringue—eaten in bites and licks, no spoon. I like giving pleasure. I like my nails painted. I don’t like my feet. I like the sound of their voice, first thing in the morning.

See you soon and happy reading!