I write stuff everywhere. I have notes on the back of business cards, trash mail, book covers, spread throughout 8 different journals and notebooks and yes I will write stuff on my hands.
I am not organized at all. The things I jot down are in drawers, under the bed, down the side of the bed, in my purse, glove compartment box and wherever you may feel the need to look for something when you can't find it.
This would drive most people nuts. If I put too much thought on this, I can start to feel insecure about this habit.
I don't really have an attachment to what I'm writing so I guess that is why it just lands where it may.
The things I write kind of turn into buried treasure as is the case for the poem I put below. I come across things all of the time, like little bursts of memory, inspiration and love, from myself. I actually read this today not knowing for sure that I had written it. It spoke so deeply to me.
I love that we can tell ourselves exactly what we need to hear in the most perfect ways. I love that something I wrote a long time ago, was really for me to read today.