Tuesday, August 31

Those games you play in the car when you are bored

Well, to be honest I am not looking forward to this semester. I have already gotten my folders and notebooks together, but it seems stale. School since 1985? I'm ready to be done with it. I am taking a class on the master storytellers and their styles, best known stories and general history. I am also taking a class called Historical and Psychological Aspets of Storytelling. AKA Hysterical and Psychotic aspects of storytelling. Apparently the class is a little demanding. I'll let you know after I finish it tonight.

I have been re-reading Tara's post from the other day and realizing how powerfully differnt our wishes were when we were children vs. our wishes now. I also remember just how young we were the year of the different colored dresses and initialed collars. I found a picture in my stacks of pictures of us with our hair all sunday-curled and our baby fat (some more so than others!) smiling faces.
The difficulty in being so old(who ever thought 25 was old?) is that you have a harder time remembering what it was like being so young. Being so innocent and impractical. It's the impracticality that I miss.
Wouldn't you just like to get rediculously excited over the possibility of snow?
Or getting a candybar?
Or pumpkin patches you colored in class?
I realize that I am sounding eerily similar to Our Town.
I think the thing I have to remember is that the wishes we make as children are always reflective of the adults we will become. This whole story is really the answer to the question, 'Who are we, and what have we become?' not 'Who were we?'
Just something else to think about


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