Ever since I started in this job, I’ve made it a point to keep analog, handwritten notes whenever possible. I have multiple notebooks — I generally go through two a year, although that’s in part because I always like starting a new notebook at the start of each calendar year, so the real measurement is probably closer to going through one-and-a-half-maybe-more — filled with comments to myself from meetings, from planning sessions or those brief moments of inspiration where I suddenly know just what I should be doing to achieve success or whatever; I have notes that are instructions for specific tasks, and notes that broader plans for, if not world domination, then at least ways to move through the world without too much disruption.
And, for the most part, I rarely look at them a few weeks after they’ve been written.
There are certainly some notes that I find myself poring back over, however long later; there are instructions for specific things that require codes or particular steps to be followed to avoid failure, or there are things that should be remembered very particularly for the desired result. But for the most part, almost everything I make note of is temporary, and forgotten about within weeks. Each of these notebooks is filled with comments and phrases that are meaningless to most everyone, including myself after enough time has passed.
Occasionally, I’ll look through old notebooks, looking for one of those codes I need or something else that suddenly seems relevant long after the fact, and I’ll find myself lost and confused: what does all of this mean? Why did I write these meaningless phrases, and did I even know what they meant back then? I’m creating an archaeology of myself that no-one will be able to decipher if they tried.