I forgot my stupid notebook today. It’s only stupid when I forget it, otherwise it’s incredibly useful. I’ve always had a problem taking notes. I didn’t until after high school, which had its effects on my grades, but started immediately after. I got into history and wanted to keep things organized. And then in college I was much better at it. Less in MFA, less in my second master’s, but the second master’s was online so I highlighted PDFs and MFA I did underline when necessary. So when I got the notebook last week, it was immediately useful. Far more useful, it turns out, for helping me develop ideas than the computer program I was thinking of getting (but got the notebook instead). Until I realized I forgot it today. I don’t need to refer to it, but what if I need to make notes. I got some paper and folded it in half to make a makeshift notebook, which I can then transfer over to the other if there’s anything. But I remembered, as I was perturbed with myself, forgetting notebooks is why I hated them so much in my twenties. Sure, they’re great when you have them, but once you forget it, you’re shit out of luck.