She was the type of woman to always have
A notebook tucked away in her inside pocket,
Yellow fabric covered, printed with bumble bees
Because that would make her feel good
When the weather was crap and work was hell.
She’d write little things in there, not all nice,
But things that made her stop and think, or smile,
Or even seethe inside, just things that made her feel.
She called this book her almanac, her treasure chest
And when she read the pages back (out loud, of course)
Her friends would sit in silence, taking it all in,
Wishing they’d articulate the world the way she could.
I don’t do resolutions that are hard and easy to break. I think they are totally pointless and they crush our dreams in the process. I do like to use this time of year to set little challenges though.
This year I’m definitely going to become one of those people who walk around with a notebook on them. I am really curious to see what could be written down if I were to have the opportunity to write at any time.
I’m sure there would be pages of pure crap, but you never know, there could be a few little gems.