spiral-bound potential

Driving to the university, I squinted across the glaring pavement while the rain came down from a blue sky. Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young strummed at me from the cd player, reminding me of the days when my mother played the album on vinyl. I unexpectedly burst into song, amazed at the human ability to remember lyrics for 20 years and still forget everything ever learned in high school. I didn't angle down the sun visor; I have the irrational fear that it would chop off the top of my skull in an accident.

I splashed through puddles and into the bookstore on my way to my internship. I looked at all the nice new sketchbooks and chose a medium-sized Strathmore pad without thinking about it. I have worked my way through enough brands to know what works best for me. This morning I had pulled on my new socks and declared, "There is nothing better in the world than a new pair of socks!" but I was wrong, there is nothing better in the world than a fresh sketchbook. It holds limitless possibility, it is the best sketchbook you have ever had, until you use it. I picked up a cheap mechanical pencil - my favorite - and headed to the library feeling much better. Maybe this will be the sketchbook that launches my graphic novel. It could.