it's an old story

While going through some of my dad's boxes, I found one of my own. 

The box was mostly junk, but there was a hidden folder of old negatives from the days when I wanted to be a photographer, notes for scripts that I wanted to write for shows that no longer exist (remember Get A Life?), and some stories that will never see the light of day.

These are not hidden gems or diamonds in the rough. Luckily, most weren't anything serious, but writing assignments, completed. Rarely anything I would actually write on purpose, but you do what you need to do to finish your homework, right?

They are, for the most part, embarrassing

...but they also give me some confidence in the writing I do today.

I can still see my style in my old writing, and I know what I meant to say, even if I didn't say it all that well. My writing teachers were nice to me, and for that I thank them. 

I will save these papers for the times when I need to see how far I've come, but it also reminds me that future Roland will one day look back at what I write today and vow to "save this junk as a reminder of how far I've come."

Truly the worst was the poetry and the flash fiction exercises that they put us through, although they didn't call them flash fiction back then.

Here's a poem for your 'enjoyment,' although I confess to have just edited it. ...unless you think it's terrible, in which case this is exactly how I found it, 25 years later. ;)

Dreams

I wake up in the morning, and I remember nothing.
I know the dreams were there, but I have to let them go.
Why waste what little time is yours remembering something lost?

So little time in the day to do what needs doing.
Nap time passes (spent more wisely)
Fight back a yawn and keep on working - a little coffee wards it off , but no magic lasts forever.

Sleep away a third of what little time you have.
So much time given to dreaming; so little remains for the day.
You say dreaming's healthy?
You need them to stay sane?
But, I've only one dream I remember, and in it, I’m awake.