As I’ve been reading through my journal from my senior year of high school, the BIGGEST thing I’ve realized is that I was not a very good writer back then. I tried too hard. I’m pretty sure that I’ve improved since then and let’s chalk it up to my sa-weet blogging skills. Or let’s not. We could chalk it up to all the money I’ve spent on higher education. I would hope an English BA and a nearly-attained Technical Writing MS would amount to SOMETHING.*

The following rambling entry was written in class my senior year:


Her seat holds her body in class.
Each hand grips the edges of her desk.
Her crossed legs keep her from running.
Her assignment fills space on her desk top.
She is trapped within her unanswered problems.
However, nothing can jail her thoughts.
They run free
Chasing her raingutter sailboat,
Skipping across rocks that hold the stream bed.
She picks her pen off her desk,
Pictures splash from the ink.

*However, if the only thing that it amounts to is the one-act play I wrote where Antigone, Ismene, Puck and Linda Loman attended an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting together, then I can die happy. Big grin.



  1. I like it. It doesn’t sound like you’re trying to hard to me. You were a great writer even in your senior-youth. (senior-youth, get it? haha! that’s kindof an oxymoron, but it’s kewl anyway)

    I’d be too scared to put things from my high-school journal on my blog. I have nothing but lamentations on boys and friends. I wasn’t really “into” writing until later in life.

    Did I tell you lately that you rock?


    1. TRUST ME, there are plenty of ramblings, lamentations, whinings, and posts filled with twitter-pated-ness that revolve around boys from my senior year. I might post bits from some one day… we shall see.
      Thank you, too… I LOVE when somebody thinks I rock. Big grin, right now.


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