Commonplace, Lex

I often find myself thinking about books long after I finish them. The ideas linger late at night, circling back when everything else is quiet. I have always wanted to keep a physical journal of those thoughts, but consistency has never come easily to me. When I was younger, I managed it for a while, but somewhere along the way, I slipped into reading and living without recording what any of it meant to me.

I tend to associate different parts of life with books I have read. Certain moments feel inseparable from whatever story I was carrying at the time. Recently, after finishing Stoner, I realized how much of life unfolds quietly, almost unnoticed, unless we make an effort to pay attention. A friend once told me his greatest fear was losing his memory, which is why he keeps lists in his phone of things he wants to remember. I laughed at the time because it sounded a little morbid, but I also understood the instinct. This blog feels like my own version of that impulse, a place to slow down and record the connections between literature, politics, history, and my own life as they happen.

For most of my undergraduate years, I have felt like I was moving on autopilot, always focused on what comes next instead of where I am. I want this space to help me live more deliberately, to notice what I am reading, thinking, and becoming in real time. Maybe a commonplace book is simply a way of paying attention. If nothing else, I hope Commonplace, Lex becomes a record of this moment in my life, something I can return to later and recognize the person I was becoming.

For the record.
— Lex