Love, Poofing, and Notebooks

This weekend I dusted our bedroom and noticed that the little notebook I keep on my bedside table had run out of fresh paper (mostly because Jeff has been using it up the last few weeks). There were about twenty or so used pieces with lots of illegible writing left in the coil ring. It is illegible because most of the notes I write tend to be in the middle of night either because I have dreamed something I want to remember or clear from my head or what I think is a good idea will pop into my head just as I am about to doze off.

There were a few story ideas that I will transfer to another notebook in my desk for “some day” in the future, many I put in the recycling container because they were just plain silly or so vague I had no idea what I was talking about.

There was this one poem (for lack of a better term that was hard to read and I cannot for the life of me imagine that I was actually awake when I wrote it — yes, I think I must have been sleep-writing.

Life is Love, Love is Love

If I loved,
I lived
If I lived, I loved well.
But if I loved to
live did I love any less.
Can a love be well lived. Is life
well lived loved at all.
To Live life, Live well is to
love life and love well.
Is it even possible to love
badly. How can love be bad.
Love is love. When loved
Whether good or bad
if loved well life is

For the life of me I cannot figure out what the last word is, my writing is so horrible. It could start with an “f” or could have an “l” or a “t” in it but really, I have no idea. Maybe “fuller”? But that does not seem to flow with the rest of it. I noticed too that even though I ask many questions I used periods instead of question marks. When typing it I was tempted to put in the question marks but I thought it was more interesting without. Were I do a full edit I would probably take out all punctuation all together.

Also in the realm of interesting are two pictures I drew. I vaguely remember dreaming about two cows, bulls or whatever. One poofing and saying “Excuse me” and the other being shocked or rolling its eyes. For some reason when I woke up I was laughing hysterically and felt the need to draw this so I could remember it. Looking at it now the only thing I find funny is that I actually drew it. And one has an utter.

Then there is this other drawing of three symbols in their own boxes joined together. Obviously some secret code I was meant to remember for some important purpose — not a clue what.

There were a few good ideas for making lenses that I added to one of the piles near my desk but otherwise a lot of wasted paper.

I learned a few things about my habits looking through these old notes: I have terrible handwriting. I need to review my notes sooner so I have a better idea of why I wrote them. I need a bigger notebook so my thought process is not squashed. And I have a weird sense of humor. A poofing joke seems more up Jeff’s alley than mine.

Even though I threw out the majority of the pages I still think keeping a bedside journal for note taking is important which is why I replaced it with a fresh one and put a fresh one on Jeff’s bedside table with his own pen too. I know it is just a matter of time before my pen disappears.