All Dolled Up With Nothing to Write
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.
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, knowing it was there. But I should have enjoyed it instead of revered it.
I should have picked it up and just used it and maybe I would have gotten a deeper understanding of what it represented, instead of thinking perhaps I wasn't worthy to play with it, something ahead of my time.
The time is now.
And this blog post is done.
WCM
And this blog post is done.
WCM
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