Tonight, my brain is fried, firing on only a couple of cylinders. I have been trying to do too many things. Big surprise.
Every March is like this. I start racing headlong into the month, I stay up late to read other slicers’ posts. I don’t pace myself. I don’t find time during the day to write my slices. And suddenly I get halfway to three-quarters through the month … and I’m ready to collapse. My bones feel heavy. I get cranky and snappish at work. My neck aches. I have nothing to say.
Tonight, having nothing to say reminded me of something. Reminded me of the autograph books we used to use as kids. At the end of the school year or the camp summer, we’d pass them around and have our friends write silly, sweet, clever things in them. (When we did this at camp, people wrote their addresses. Because we were young enough to be foolishly and perennially optimistic that we would stay in touch during the school year. So optimistic … despite the fact that this never actually happened.)
Are autograph books still a thing? Did you ever have one? What kinds of things did you write in your friends’ books? Do you remember any of the things they wrote in yours?
Things I can remember that kids wrote in my autograph books:
America is our nation. Roslyn is our station.
We go to school and act like fools
and call it education.
I was here, but now I’m gone.
I left my name to carry on.
Those who know me, know me well.
Those who don’t, can go to hell!
And the one that made me remember those books tonight:
Can’t think. Brain dumb.
Inspiration won’t come.
No ink. Bad pen.
That’s all. Amen.
It’s the 10th annual Slice of Life Story Challenge!
Head over to Two Writing Teachers to see all of today’s slices