In my little notebook, written between the 10:21 entry and the 10:25 entry from last night, is the following.

Hey asshole! Write about opportunities, golden or otherwise.

Little notes like that one are supposed to be the reason I have that notebook. The only reason. I'm not supposed to use it, as I did in preparing the previous entry, to jot down the incredibly boring minutiae of my life. Nope, it's supposed to be for writing down those ideas and those fleeting inspirations that show up randomly, disappear quickly, and that if stirred and shaken just right might be prove to be worthy of an entire entry.

SCRIBBLERESQUE PARENTHETICAL THOUGHT: Except that one time that I wrote an entry about being in a plane while I was actually flying in the thing. That was useful, and it killed some time.

SCRIBBLERESQUE PARENTHETICAL THOUGHT: That girl was hot. I wonder what happened to her.

I remember writing that little note about opportunities to myself last night. I remember thinking that it was a good idea for an entry. I do not, unfortunately, remember why I thought it was a good idea. I mean, I must have had something in mind.