Memory

Yes, that is the title for this week’s poem. But it is something I have been thinking about lately. Are our memories ever truly our own? I know that there are some things I think I remember but I just think I do. And then there are the smells. All of my grandparents and friends’ houses have a certain smell, and I’m sure mine does too. I just can’t smell it, because I am so used to it. That’s very like other aspects of yourself. How many of us see ourselves totally differently then our family or friends do?

I will try to get some work done on the story this week. The first exams are behind me and I don’t work, so I should get something done. Hold me to it. If not, I’ll write again next Sunday.

Sunday

Hey it’s me again…

…I put something on the Other Writing page…I didn’t want to have a dropdown overload, so you have to go to the page to get to it. It’s fairly interesting, go ahead and look.

…Speaking of dropdowns, do I have too many on the chapters? Does it look bad? Should maybe I do the chapters in chunks?

…Man, that would be a lot of work.

…I’m hungry.

…I have a choice between literary theory, a sociology paper about Walmart, and reading a sociology textbook. I really should be doing one of them. Time to play pick your poison.

…I canvassed like fifty houses today, no joke, and my feet are tired.

…On the other hand, maybe dad will watch Star Trek with me when he gets home.

… Ellipses are fun.

…I’m hungry.

Welcome to my head on a typical Sunday afternoon. Get some work done Brain! No…ugh…why.