My Name is Cammy, And I Have a Notebook Problem

I don’t know when it happened.  I’m fairly certain it’s been coming on for at least 10 years, but when the actual breakdown happened is anyone’s guess.

I used to be content to write in a spiral notebook of the 50 cent variety.  Or on plain notebook paper, lugged around in a red binder left over from someplace my Dad used to work.  People had given me a journal or two, but I was intimidated by the permanency of sewn binding.

But somewhere along the way, I lost the intimidation.  I filled up the two bound journals I had.  I picked up another.  Filled it as well.  Then came the first pocket Moleskine with graph paper and it’s perfect size for the purse.

Then came another pocket Moleskine.  And a larger one received as a gift…..

And I think that’s when the wheels came off.

It makes absolutely no good sense.  I have Field Notes notebooks (awesome, simple and Made in the USA), Picadilly notebooks (Moleskine imitations at a fraction of the price), no name black cover books, a brand-less fat cream colored book, more Moleskines, hand-made books found in Harry-Potter-esque shops in Budapest….

And the vast majority of these?  Aren’t full.  In fact, most of them I’ve not even begun.  It’s embarrassing.  Even more so since I haven’t stopped looking for new ones to add.  I try to refrain, but when you see that mark-down on a Moleskine that you know you’ll fill eventually.  And what am I to do when a family member who’s actually paid attention to the fact that I don’t stir out of the house without a pen and notebook presents me with a new one as a gift?

I honestly wish I could fill ’em up as fast as I seem to acquire them.  I refuse to use them at work (cold day in hell before the job intrudes upon the notebooks!), but work eats up time I might spend filling that obscenely large stack of notebooks.  Damn real life.


In Which Cammy Hates Her Bank

While it’s a Wednesday and I would normally post about music, I’m too busy being peeved at my bank.

I’ve had issues with them for years.  If it weren’t for the particulars of my family situation and how we’ve linked our accounts, I’d dump these ass-hats all together.

Tonight’s transgression (one in a long line):  International Wire Transfers.

In this global world, I’ve identified certain fun and fabulous things from outside our US borders on which I occasionally like to splurge.  One item I’ve wanted for a while is another journal like the one I picked up in a charming shop in Budapest.  The store, Bomo Art Budapest, has a website and I finally caved and decided to shell out the Euros and the hefty shipping costs for an order.  I say caved.  What I actually mean is I carefully avoided coffee and dining out on certain days for the past 7 months in order to justify spending now.

So, I order.  This being a small establishment, their only method of taking credit cards is by fax or in an e-mail.  I don’t have access to a fax, and I felt just a bit weird about sending my credit card information unencrypted over e-mail.  So I opted for wire transfer payment.  My bank charges a fee, but I was ordering enough at once to justify it, plus I could set the payment up online and I always figure convenience has a price.

After the 7th attempt to get the bank transfer information entered, I’ve had it.  Everything checks out okay.  It’s verified the SWIFT and the IBAN, and my  security codes, but once I hit the final “Add account” button……nada.  The button goes grey and the system sits there.  Not a yes, no or go-to-hell.


I tried the online help-chat…but they don’t have any representatives available to help.  I tried the 24 hour phone service, but no menu item related to what I wanted and there was NO option for a human to talk to.  I even tried just pushing numbers to get into other menus to find a human who could transfer me.  Nada.

So, finally, I fired off an angry e-mail (including a threat to move to another bank.  And I’m not kidding).  I’ve had so much trouble with these assholes.  For two years I’ve fought to get them to update my address so I get my tax forms at tax time (we’ll see if it took sometime in January).  I have hell doing anything with one of my accounts because no matter how many times I explain that I’ve moved and give them my new driver’s license info, they keep asking me for my old driver’s license info to make any changes to the account.  And by old I mean TWO STATES AGO.

So, now, I get to go march into the local branch office, totally indignant and hope to hell I can get someone to help me wire my payment to Bomo Art so those folks don’t think I’m a shitty American who’s trying not to pay.

In the meantime, I’ve e-mailed the lovely people at Bomo and added two more items to my order.  I may as well go for broke.  If I’m going to this much trouble to get the payment wired, I’m going to maximize what comes out of it.