I bought myself a moleskine reporter notepad today, using my birthday gift vouchers. I also bought Richard Dawkins' latest book, after much deliberation. It was a tough call between that, or Murakami's or Bill Bryson's latest efforts. In the end, the boffinish bespectacled entity in me won. The blind-as-a-bat girl with a weakness for geeky books put her foot down and made me choose Dick over good old Bill and Haruki. Maybe next time. Bill is always fun. As a matter of fact, I have a good number of his books by my bed for a spot of light reading before I turn in for the night. Next time I'll go shop for books without the nerdy girl. I also lingered by Gabriel Garcia Marquez's corner in the store, but moved on because I know I will get my hands on it in a few month's time. So many books, so little time.

I've kept notebooks and journals but always inadvertantly stop at some point. I have a million insignificant thoughts run through my head everyday, but I find it such a hassle to open up my B5 size journal to write a random sentence in it. My 30 cents little jotterbook got tossed around, crumpled and decided to make a break for it one day. Then I look back and realise that I can't remember a single thing. This one's just the nice size for jotting notes and random whimsical thoughts that come into my head once in a while. I remember I had a really good train of thought yesterday while trudging along the jungle trail of Gunung Belumut, but it escapes me now.

Today I spoke with Lham about the Ballad of the Lonely Broccoli. I saw the Lonely Broccoli at Carrefour a few days ago. Applecore, Wai and I picked it up because it was sitting all alone amongst six empty styrofoam trays. We were feeling sorry for it. I even had an ode to the lonely broccoli in my head at that time, but no longer remember it now. We were there, hoping to catch a glimpse of Captain Carrefour, but he wasn't there (apparently, he only appears during weekends) applecow was bitterly disappointed. I'll leave it to her to tell you about it, if she can get over the unhappy episode to want to write about it. The poor dear. I hope her weekend wasn't ruined because of that.

So yes. A little nondescript notepad to jot down stupid angsty thoughts that aren't publishable. Things like My Inner Thoughts and Feelings condensed in a sentence. Life, The Universe and Everything Else. And songs about unloved vegetables.