Blank Sheet of Paper

I'm twenty years old. Twenty-one in only a few weeks, and yet, here I am, the day before classes, picking out my outfit and too restless to sleep. Yep, some things never change.

writing essays bad hair days impolite smells allergies bad drivers poor grammar stupidity overplayed songs traffic sleepless nights ignorance bad teeth the price of higher education road construction bad movies shopping carts in parking spots indecision laziness mistreatment of beloved objects the wrong words writer's block illness unappreciated talent/skill liars, cheaters, ungrateful bitches, and IBNABs in general and at least several other things that I'm forgetting

I saw two of the greatest scenes this weekend. (1) Friday afternoon, cruising down Essington, I saw a boy, I would say middle school age, walking, listening to music on his iPod, and reading. Not just reading any reading material though, reading a book . A book! A real book, with a spine, with length to it! *sigh* This little boy gave me hope. (2) Sunday night/Monday morning, around midnight. Pulling into my neighborhood, I see a guy, I would say mid twenties, sitting on his motorcycle in the car wash parking lot, texting on his cell phone. I don't know what it was about the picture, but it was something all the same. I wish I had had my camera.