Notebook ingenuity.

I carry around a little notebook to record my thoughts during moments of ingenuity or inspiration. Most of the time, however, I end up with useless scribbles that mean little to me once I forget their context. The last three entries, for example, are testament to my inability to appear intelligent at all times:

3) A list entitled, "AN IDEAL USE OF TIME," followed by 11 ridiculous sub-points. Ladyfy thyself, and, Have a lovely breakfast with tea, makes me wonder if I was abducted by a Debutante.

2) A series of one-lined questions addressed to no one.
     * Is the force within you?
     * What shape does your patronus take?
     * In which activity did you win your gold medal?

1) And two haikus about tofu that were created when I enthusiastically declared a class-wide tofu haiku showdown. I managed to coerce the boy behind me into participating, and after convincing another boy to be the judge, I somehow lost the competition. The proof is in my Moleskine.

Healthy little cubes

Jiggly wobbly slippery

As I swallow it

Asian creation

Coagulated soy milk

Suddenly tofu!

(Ps. I'm not saying the judgement was sexually biased, but there's no other explanation for my loss. Tofu isn't Jiggly).

Despite these nonsensical scribbles, I do sometimes come across an entry that is worthwhile. Writing, in all its forms, has given me a solid history, residually allowing my life to be captured within these pages. No matter how many repetitive To-Do lists I create or unfinished thoughts I jot down, it'll all be worth a revisit when I'm 50, not retired and fed up with raising my dirty children. One day the ingenuity will show itself, but until then, five fail-proof ways on how to dominate a 10-year-old in Monopoly will have to do. 

Don't ask.