Sometimes, while exercising or sitting blankly on the subway listening to music, a thought comes to me that feels worth leaving in writing. When that happens, I take out my phone and write a rough outline. Later I use that outline to write the actual piece. I call it an outline, but on my phone it usually becomes ten or so lines. If it is shorter than that, I cannot recover the flow of what I meant. If it is longer, I tend to ignore the original thought and let the piece change direction while writing.
These days, as I have begun putting my phone in my bag and listening to music, I often lose those thoughts. It is summer, and sleeping with the air conditioner on makes me wake at dawn from the cold, or turning it off too early makes me wake a little early from the heat. Because that keeps repeating, I seem to drift through my commute half asleep. Even when I have had a light drink and am going home, thoughts do sometimes appear, but since that happens only occasionally, I hesitate, the station comes near, and then I forget them. What is frustrating is that when I forget, I remember only that there was something I meant to write down. The content alone disappears. Then there is no method left. The whole point of writing notes on the phone was to keep the record close at hand, but if I miss even that, there is no chance.
Sometimes I suddenly remember in the shower, but that was when I already had many things to write while fully awake. One or two could return that way. At a time like now, when even the frequency of writeable thoughts is low, missing one usually means losing it entirely.
If I wake from sleep in a dazed state, it feels less unfair. But losing material while walking around perfectly awake feels shameful. If I keep saying that I simply like writing, yet cannot write because I have nothing to write, who would call that something I do because I like it? A hobby should be treated like a hobby. Something done out of liking should be treated as something liked.
Korean original: 글로 남길 만 한 생각들