Notes on Notes on Notes. An App Story.

I have a melodramatic confession to make: I have a slight addiction to the Notes app on my phone. Because you all know I’m a very Profound Human Being, I can never let a good thought escape me. I’m like a little kid who has to pee — jumping up and down going crazy until there’s that sweet sweet release. (This is getting gross.) And so whenever I see or think of something that could provide good content or inspiration for future writing projects (80% of which consist of my twitter feed) I have to immediately take note of it in that good ol’ app on that good ol’ iPhone. It’s easier than digging through my purse for my journal and capless pens, and anyway, who wouldn’t want to look like a self-involved millennial constantly looking down at their phone?

You might know I was out of the country for the last three weeks, two of which were without any internet, and while I genuinely loved that freedom and time away from all of you lovely idiots posting pictures of your 4th of July celebrations and other summer shenanigans, I still filled my Notes app up with some brilliant thoughts and observations, because again, I am a Profound Human Being. So anyway, here’s some thoughts from the last few weeks.

In an uber on the way to LaGuardia: An old man is being dragged by his big black dog and man, this is hilarious but also heartbreaking. THAT MAN HAS BRITTLE BONES. AND THAT DOG IS EATING TOO MUCH GRASS TOO FAST.
First night in Paris: Had a dream my dad killed a pigeon to write a message on the sidewalk with its blood. Shockingly was not scared of this dream. Am I a demon?
Lotta couples in Paris. I’m walking with my family holding a bag of Walmart-brand beef jerky. Nice.
Men don’t act as creepy when you’re waking with your family than when you’re walking alone. Idiots.
“Goin’ down for real” is playing everywhere. Including a merry-go-round by the eiffel tower.
Watched Frenchman dancing outside of a bar and he was so joyous and also looked great smoking a cigarette while doing it. I hated it.
You know you’re a bad musician when you have to dye your hair purple.
Macedonia: Saw more than enough honey stands on the side of the road on the bumpy curvy drive across the country. (It’s a small country. Took about 3.5 hours.)
Must stay away for this scenic drive. My body says NO but my mind’s all, “PUSH THROUGH THAT NAUSEA, VERTIGO, HUNGER, THIRST, AND EXHAUSTION, GIRL. YOU’VE GOT MOUNTAINS TO LOOK AT.”
Aunt brought over fresh eggs from her farm. Talk about farm-to-table, you dumb brooklyn hipsters.
Quote from my dad: “The longer I talk to the villagers, the more I get depressed. So-and-so just told me he can’t sing anymore.”
Eating in Ohrid. Sinatra playing at the place next to us. I feel good about it.
Who would I rather see on the street? Regis Philbin or Harry Styles? Honestly a tough call.
My grandma said she saw Meryl Streep when we were in Paris last week. Okay. Thanks for that belated info grams ARE YOU KIDDING ME.
Dream: Was ambushed in a Michael’s. Somehow I knew Karate so I kicked some serious butt.
Another dream: I cried while walking through a nice kitchen with an island. This is a sign I want a kitchen with an island.
Another long mountainous bus ride across the country got foggy half-way through. I am living in a LOTR movie and don’t ever want to leave. Also REALLY need to pee.
More dreams. This one about the revolutionary war. 4th of July just two days away. Nice.
Are we all leading the same type of lives experiencing the same kind of feelings, just all presenting ourselves in different ways so no one actually notices we’re all feeling the same? A bird just pooped a foot away from my head.
Can I reach enlightenment but still have access to Netflix.
What was that one Mary Kate and Ashley movie where they play soccer?
Heard a beach remix of Strawberry Fields Forever today and did not hate. Sorry.
I really want to google “southern gentlemen in suits” for some reason? Embarrassed about it. A sure sign of wife-deficiency.
Got sad for a hot sec in Rome about something that happened a while ago, but then my brother parkour-ed off an ancient looking building and my other brother went down into some funny kneeling pose and I felt okay again.
Mama mia! What if your mom’s name was actually Mia? Mama Mia! Honestly love myself for this one.
Got emotional on the plane ride back home while watching Paddington on mute. Also cried during the first 20 minutes of that new Cinderella movie so I had to stop. (Here’s an article about that: http://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2013/10/why-we-cry-on-planes/280143/)

And there you have it. My brain in a nutshell/Notes app. Thanks for reading all of that. You’re okay.