Late July, Early August

When I was a kid there wasn’t much that excited me.  I was practically the definition of boredom in human form.  But there was one full proof way to excite me and it happened every single year.  Funnily enough, it still kind of excites me to this day &&& I have no reason to feel that way.

School supplies.

No.  Not the start of school or the first day.  I’m talking the supplies you buy before you start school.  Stepping into all the stores starting in mid-July and seeing all of the supplies in large boxes on displays – it was the thing I looked forward to all Summer.  While other kids, including my brother, were starting to get sad because  of the fact that we were beginning to wind down from the summer activities and start thinking about English papers, math tests, and science projects.

For me – I couldn’t wait to buy school supplies.

Every time we walked into Wal-Mart I would grab a school supply list and take it home and read it over and over – by the time my mom would take us for school supplies I would have probably had a hundred copies of one single piece of paper.

We’d always purchase our back packs a few weeks before the actual supplies along with a pair of shoes.  Oh how it took me forever to decide on those two single things.  I always wanted something colorful when it came to my back pack but I didn’t want it to be childish – even when everything in my life was childish.  &&& when it came to my new pair of shoes I always wanted a solid white pair but didn’t want to spend 30$ so I usually ended up with shoes I never actually liked.

Then came the day we’d go supply shopping.  Our mother would give us the list and we’d dive into the aisles and pick out the pencils, pens, highlighters, and erasers.  I was a big fan of Lisa Frank (Yes! I want to purchase one of their adult coloring books) when I was younger so most of my elementary & early middle school supplies involved her.  Oh, how I loved the brightly colored plastic trapper keepers they had.  >.<

After we finished shopping we’d go home and I’d dump all of my supplies into the floor forming a circle around me.  Tissues in one pile, pencils, pens, crayons, ruler, etc.  Then, starting with the boxes of tissues I would start packing my back pack.  Usually, I would get most of the things in to it before it filled up but I could never quite fit it all.  But trust me, I would try over &&& over before giving up and realizing that I would have to carry my tissues in a Wal-Mart.

Now the school I attended has a 25$ supply fee.  I wouldn’t have liked that one bit.

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One of the hardest…

English in school whether it was middle school or high school had one thing in common.  At the beginning of the year we were told to buy a notebook and we usually all picked out the same black & white notebook with wide lines that costs a $0.97 cents at the local Wal-Mart.  (I actually have three of them in my bedroom right now.)  We, as students, knew exactly what it was for so we made sure to get the notebook with wide lines.  (When not for school, I never buy wide lines – the more the better for me.)  We’d start school and the teacher would explain that this notebook, this cheap white wide ruled notebook, was our notebook and every day we needed to write at least half of a page about anything and everything.  && everyone had the same reaction to it – the inability to write anything ever.  We all ended up waiting until the day before it was due and we would just scribble a bunch of crap.  I remember one year I sat and write “blah, blah, blah” over && over until I took up half of a page.  The teacher always said they’d never read it but you know they at least glanced through it &&& probably didn’t like seeing twenty to thirty pages of nothing but blah in very large print – one letter covering three lines, it was almost as if I had just started writing again.

I think back on it now && find it quite hilarious that I had such a hard time writing in that ‘journal’.  Even when I hit college I found it hard to write in a journal – yes, in one of my English Composition classes she wanted us to keep a journal (half a page in one notebook).  I ended up writing a short story instead, which it would seem that would be the harder part – but it took me twelve hours to write a full short story (which I have ruined since then).

I suppose through the years it hasn’t gotten any better, I still have trouble sometimes writing more than I ought to, but I’m not perfect so it’s not like I can cough and spit words out.  Although, that would be FANTASTIC if it were possible.  Because then – yes!  I could have thirteen novels ready to go.  But no, I can’t do that.  I have to type the words that are put to paper and sometimes my brain breaks.  Okay, my  brain breaks often, but no worries!  I may have issues sometimes writing, I’ll never give up on writing.

Just like cooking.

It’ll always be there.

I don’t think I stayed on topic.

Oh well!