What do you write about when you have nothing to write about?
I remember as a kid having my favorite toy.
When guests would come over, I'd grab that favorite toy and present it proudly. This is my toy, look, it represents what I feel about myself as a kid, and I'm proud of it.
Of course (well, maybe) the adult never understood all the underlying connotations the toy represented.
That toy would never get used the way I wanted to use it, but I liked it. Loved it. Something about it, as if I could see into the future and all was okay, it was an alright place.
It embodied something about myself, gave me a brief window into my adult years of thought.
Yeah yeah, it was just a toy, I know.
I would look at it and want to play with it, but never have the chance. And when I did it didn't live up to what I thought it would. Of course eventually the yearning fizzled out and new toys were had.
But that toy was remembered, for the most part.
I guess just having it was the great thing, kno…