childhood comforts

Disclaimer: This picture was taken tonight, October 22nd 2010. My roommates and I are all 25 years old.

Shawna & Angel-bear Blankie, Dusty & Blankie, Nanny & Bunny

 

 

 Are we cute, or what?

Shawna & Angel-bear Blankie are mine. Dusty & Blankie are Laura's. Nanny & Bunny are Emy's.

As you can see, the quilted fabric blanket held up much better than the knitted ones the girls had. This has led me to decide my kids will definitely be getting the fabric kind of blankie.

Emy's Bunny is on her third set of clothes and survived flying off the roof of a van on the freeway a few years ago. Shawna survived falling out of a car on the side of the freeway once when I was a kid.

Through high school, college, travel, moves, boyfriends, and breakups, these remnants of simpler times have been kept close our whole lives. And here they will stay.

if failure means i'm trying

I recently cleaned out my room, and in the process discovered a stack of old journals, spiral bound notebooks, and even one Marble Composition Book that had been covered up with a picture of Johnny Rzeznik of the Goo Goo Dolls. Every one of these were unfinished. Every blog, Live Journal, etc, I've ever started has been left undone. It's kinda my thing. Start some form of writing. Stop said form of writing. Start again.

I've heard from more than a few sources that it's good to write every day. I realized today that I already do that, just not in the sit-down-with-pen-and-paper-jotting-notes-in-a-journal kind of way. I write email correspondence at least a few times each day. I post to various social networking sites, respond to my friends' posts, comment on photos and videos. I write papers and responses to questions for my classes. I write the occasional inspirational message or affirmation on my bedroom closet doors (which are mirrors) with markers made for them. I suppose none of these things really count as writing every day. Unless I decide that they do.

Which I do.

Here's to another 25 years of failed writing projects.