The Problem with Mental Notes

https://www.totally-tiffany.com/tip-4-from-goc-3-write-a-mental-note/

     People often ask me where I get the topics I write about. The answer is simple, actually. The topics are all about me. There are countless topics in the news. There are topics in the people I interact with and all the various behaviors they exhibit. There are topics I see with my colleagues and students. And… there are topics in my head, many of them, which are often lacking focus and definition. 
      There are the times when I have to pick, choose, and prioritize what I want to write about. No being paid for any of this, I basically pick and choose what I feel like writing about. Though I do not get paid, I feel an amazing sense of accomplishment for doing this. All payment, all reward, is not necessarily monetary. 
     There are other times, like the past few weeks, where the topics don’t come so easily or frequently. Sometimes, it is just because. I liken it to drought of topics or maybe a batting slump which I think I this case would be better called writer’s block. Other times, it is because my day job gets takes precedence. It is, after all, the end of the semester which is a busy time with final exams, final projects, and grading. 
     The other day, in the course of my long teaching day, I had a topic. It was a middle of the road kind of topic and nothing very special. I was looking forward to expounding on the topic later that evening. When I finally got home and grabbed my computer, I had no idea what the topic was. I started laughing at myself. I should have written it down. I know that. I didn’t. I relied on my memory having made a mental note. My mental notes? They are post-its that no longer stick very well. I am sure the cellar of my mind is littered with countless numbers of these mental notes. I know better. If it is something important, I need to jot it in my notebook that is never far from hand. I did not do that, and I am still unaware what the heck the topic was. 
     At my age, I do pay some attention to the frequency of such forgetfulness. As far as I can tell, this has been a lifelong occurrence in which the frequency has been relatively stable. This last incident reminded of a similar event in 1983. I wrote a poem, tucked it away somewhere, and promptly forgot where I put the scrap of paper. I was kind of proud of the poem and thought it be one of my better ones. I hoped it would turn up. Months later, it did. I open a textbook and it fell out. I felt relieved to have found it and read it right away. Immediately, I was disappointed at how much I had inflated the quality of the ditty. But, I did write another poem about it, which I am happy to present here.
     Who knows, I might actually remember what the forgotten topic was and blog about it tomorrow.

The Lost Poem Poem

It was a paragon
In its natural state
All scribbled,
Erased and scratched:
Pure symmetry in rough draft.

Now its gone without a trace
And I've got egg upon my face
For instead of typing up excellence
I'm reduced to this:
Lyrical nonsense.

It' the fish that got away,
Seventy-four miles per gallon,
The check that's in the eternal mail
And all those sex act lies.

Yet, this poem was different.
It had class.
It coulda been a contentda...
It coulda been champeen...

Really though, it's basking,
In the glow of lost poem heaven.
Waiting patiently until
Its resurrection in some nook,
Some crevice overlooked.

Upon finding it, 
I praised my serendipity,
It harmonized: mediocrity.

September 1983