Paper.
I am a piece of paper. One sheet. That’s what I am. All of me is a blank sheet of paper. I am where words are written, though pencil, through pen. Where ideas pour into, where they are written down, passed around, looked at, kept, framed, immortalized. A sheet of paper thin enough to fit anywhere, to be blown by the wind, to be folded, yet I can absorb what you’re thinking, I can face you when you’ve got nothing, I can even cut you when you’re not paying attention.
I am a piece of paper, I was made yet I am not yet finished. I continue to be a sheet of paper, from a leaf, from a pulp, from a tree. Combined with other sheets of paper we form a ream, yet I am distinct that I am that one sheet of paper, different from all the rest. I belong because I am different. Like all the rest of us who are different.
I may end up bound, with padding glue, reused as scratch and on me notes, formulas, more notes, more formulas. I may end up free, fleeting, floating, wherever the wind takes me, on a post, on a banner, declaring something or other. I may say this one day and retract it on the other, but sure enough, I said it, and there is only living up to it hereafter.
I can have a song, I can have a phrase, I can have an essay, thoughts full of your mind’s maze. But for now, I am blank, and you can write on me, write on me as you please, but please, don’t waste me?
---
I found out ten minutes ago that I had to write (and memorize) a monologue for Music class tomorrow. We have to write one on us being an inanimate object. The cursor was blonking on Word and the paper couldn't look more empty. So... I am a sheet of paper.
(fob, cic teambuilding, field trip, rehearsals, improv show, more rehearsals. whew. it's all to fast because we can't cope.)
The improv show rocked. We didn't expect to pull it off, but we did and it was okay. Theatrica was improv-ably the best show you'll ever see. :D
During Cue rehearsals yesterday, I slipped and fell on my butt. We visited Anton (get well soon!) and bonded. :)
I got cramps on my calves when I woke up today. My back hurts and I feel old. My body is betraying me. Oh no.
Happy is what happens
when all your dreams come true.
Well, isn't it?
I am a piece of paper, I was made yet I am not yet finished. I continue to be a sheet of paper, from a leaf, from a pulp, from a tree. Combined with other sheets of paper we form a ream, yet I am distinct that I am that one sheet of paper, different from all the rest. I belong because I am different. Like all the rest of us who are different.
I may end up bound, with padding glue, reused as scratch and on me notes, formulas, more notes, more formulas. I may end up free, fleeting, floating, wherever the wind takes me, on a post, on a banner, declaring something or other. I may say this one day and retract it on the other, but sure enough, I said it, and there is only living up to it hereafter.
I can have a song, I can have a phrase, I can have an essay, thoughts full of your mind’s maze. But for now, I am blank, and you can write on me, write on me as you please, but please, don’t waste me?
---
I found out ten minutes ago that I had to write (and memorize) a monologue for Music class tomorrow. We have to write one on us being an inanimate object. The cursor was blonking on Word and the paper couldn't look more empty. So... I am a sheet of paper.
(fob, cic teambuilding, field trip, rehearsals, improv show, more rehearsals. whew. it's all to fast because we can't cope.)
The improv show rocked. We didn't expect to pull it off, but we did and it was okay. Theatrica was improv-ably the best show you'll ever see. :D
During Cue rehearsals yesterday, I slipped and fell on my butt. We visited Anton (get well soon!) and bonded. :)
I got cramps on my calves when I woke up today. My back hurts and I feel old. My body is betraying me. Oh no.
Happy is what happens
when all your dreams come true.
Well, isn't it?