My mother is using one of our old notebooks for her prayer notes. Apparently she found the following written on one of the pages:
So disappointment creeps in as I find that I am not even the wall. First, not to be a fair lady of Athens! But I am but a humble shade, and how could I expect such things? To be great stone and mortar---that was noble enough, even though chinks and cracks make the solid permeable. But now I am not even a wall. I am but a man of no significance and of no account who says little and does less. Truly, how can such a humble shade as I become such a character? One who is less than even a wall?
I must have written that after losing out the part of Hermia in our production of Midsummer Night's Dream. I was obviously way too into the Shakespeare thing. My mom was quite impressed with my writing though.

Music of the Day: Billie Holiday. Duh.

On My Mind: Why did we find enough sand to fill three dust pans underneath our carpet? It boggles my mind.

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