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