Lessons of the Day
When choosing a notebook, choose one large enough to scribble in.
I bought a Moleskine Journal at the Dick Blick at Fenway. I remember that I bought it there because I knew the store had been there, but that was the first time we ever walked in. Heather was with me and we were killing time before seeing Pan's Labyrinth. It was a really big store, very clean and organized, and I saw the journals in this little display they had. I was about to grab a pocket sized one, just standard ledger lines, but then I saw they had all kinds of other formats to choose from. Being a musically-charged creature, my eyes began searching for a potential music-staff journal. I found a pocket-sized journal with five-bar-line ledgers inside and bought it. I had every intention of recording the little musical lines I would form in my head on something I could go back to at a later time and make sense of.
Unfortunately for me, I don't have the ear to determine pitch without reference. My solution was to simply rely on the notated rhythm. I would write out the notes in more of a relational sense than a literal sense (this note is higher than the last note by x, next note is lower by y, etc.). Unfortunately, to my dismay, I discovered I don't have as good a sense of intervals as I thought I did. I am now left with these odd scribblings which make no sense to their author (and would certainly mystify anyone else).
My next move was a dodgey attempt to recoup some value from my purchase. I figured the lines were irrelevant, just something to level my text on. Unfortunately, it just sucks to write the kind of notes I write on such small pages. Thus I come to realize it was a bad idea from the start, because my first goal was to get a journal of that size.
So the size is now an important thing. So now I know I need to carry a real notebook; one that I can scribble in.
Don't stick your nose where your feet can't follow.
It hurts me when I can't do anything to help the people I love and care about in their time of need. When my father died, my friends came to the funeral to support me. I would gladly do the same for them tenfold.
I know how much it means to have someone there to support you in your time of need, and so I try to be there for the people I care about in theirs. Unfortunately, sometimes my efforts speak with brighter hopes than they can fulfill. When this happens, I can only stare at the floor and feel ashamed and broken for what always seems like a heartless act, but is really a gutless mistake.
...and for that, I need to apologize.