drabbles

I have a million different notebooks with a million different scribbles in them. I'm always finding old ones whose existence I've completely forgotten about shoved under my bed, stuffed into a drawer or crammed in between two books on my book shelf. And just for good measure, there are usually loose pages scattered in the mix as well.

I love finding these notebooks-- because it almost always means I'm going to find a "ramble" that I've completely forgotten that I'd written. It has occurred to me more than once in the past that if I died in the near future (and my preoccupation since childhood with planning my funeral is another topic for another day), whoever cleans out my room is going to get an eyeful-- especially if they don't know that not everything they read is fact. Rants about frustrations lay side by side with abandoned stories. It's the muddle of my brain.

For example, here's something I found on a scrap of paper in my desk today:


When I was 10, I couldn't wait to be a grown up. Being a grown up meant wearing clicky shoes whenever you wanted, wearing your Sunday dress all day because you were old enough not to mess it up. It meant my brother and sister not bossing me around anymore. At least that's what I thought it would be about. The funny thing is, now when I wear clicky shoes at work I wish they wouldn't make so much noise in the hall. I can't wait to get my "Sunday" clothes off when I get home, and my brother and sister still occasionally boss me around.

It's funny how we don't even know what the right things to look forward to are.


I don't remember what even prompted those thoughts....or why they are on a random slip of paper. Chances are I scribbled them while waiting for Bobby at IHOP one night or sitting in the courtyard during my lunch hour when Susan and Jessie weren't there.

They are the random thoughts that anyone has a million of as the day goes by. Don't ask me why I feel the need to record the snapshots of opinion that appear in my brain. But I'm sure I've written about it somewhere.