Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Why some things will never change

One of the (few) things I like about returning to my childhood bedroom is how everything has remained very much the same. From the pale turquoise walls to the decayed and crumbling remains of Prom corsages and yellowing newspaper clippings pinned to the bulletin board, not a lot has changed in the last ten years. Other than the occasional box of mystery clothes or stack of discarded magazines left by certain family members who seem to think my room is the closest and most convenient branch of the local Goodwill, things pretty much tend to stay where I left them.

It's fun to read the magnetic poetry that's been on my closet door for the last five years at least, composed during that 10 minute window when magnetic poetry was still a socially acceptable form of expression.

I think my friend Pat wrote this one, and, wow, considering how long it's been since I've seen or heard from him, that was a long time ago:

These are mine:

But wait, what is this...? I don't remember writing this one. What the...

MO-THER! Becca's been in my ROOM AGAIN!!!!

Sigh. Like I said, some things never change.


  1. Ah! But they CAN change. You just move one of those words. Ta da!

  2. IT WASN'T ME!!!!!

  3. Did I do it...? I couldn't have! Or did I...? It doesn't sound like me, in any case. Quel mystère.