I look forward doing this every year.
1. Replacing the old notebook with a fresh one (not electronic, mind you!)
2. Flipping through pages for old scribbles and passwords
3. Take 5 to reminisce the times each note was written (I like the odd-hour ones)
4. Deciding on the ones I wanna bring forward
5. Deciding on the ones I wanna thrash (ouch!)
6. Deciding on the ones that go into the storehouse (aka memories that I wanna keep for a little while before it goes to thrash)
This is my ritual. The transfer is a delicate process, just like planning. Those who've ever sewn, stiched or knit would understand. The mood must be right; clean air, not-too-cluttered desk, fresh white A3 pads and a good Sharpie, a cup of coffee on the left and music. My surrounding ain't important cause there's the headset to clear the debris.
This year, I noticed most notes were records of dreams. I like dreams and the romantic notion it exudes; like the stories that wouldn't happen in reality, the light twisted conversations and the awesome feeling of floating and watching my own life taking place from a third-person's eyes. I don't think you'll find answers in dreams. But if you are looking for bits of common sense and if it falls together, you are lucky.(This is page 2 of a missing page 1)