Anyone who knows me well, knows that I don’t go very far without a pen in my pocket. The main reason is that I frequently have ideas that I want to remember. Having a pen allows me to jot down a quick reminder on the back of receipts, napkins, any scrap of paper will do as will the back of my hand if nothing more appropriate is available. These scribblings on scraps serve as reminders and inspiration, so that I can flesh out the thought later, when I have more time to really work through the idea. Most of the time, the thougts don’t go very far, and the scrap is discarded.
Sometimes though, the scrap gets stuck in a pocket, and the clothes that belong to that pocket get washed. Then when I come across the scrap of paper, and the ink has been blurred or washed away entirely, I can’t help but wonder. Was that the most brilliant thought I’ll have that’s now been erased, or was it just another throw away idea?
To stay sane I have to tell myself it was. But there’s always the nagging thought that it wasn’t.