Well, I DID get an A.....

The other day I found a piece of paper tucked inside an old (gulp) library book. I didn't think much of it at the time, but then I started thinking about the games many of us have been playing lately via the internet. 25 Things About Me, for example. I went back to retrieve the paper. That's it! In high school, one teacher gave us an assignment to make a list of things about ourselves. A long list. The next day, we had to turn those same lists into a poem. I totally remember the exercise because it was more challenging than it sounds. When you make a list of things about yourself such as "I like to jog in the morning" and "I like to iron" without knowing you're going to have to turn it into a poem ... well, that's a completely different list than one you would make if you knew the next assignment.
So, I pulled out the paper with my poem and a big, fat, red A on top and had a good chuckle about myself! Here goes my teenaged angst:


Rebecca, Rebecca, why does it seem
That you love to eat and you love to dream
You love to pretend that you're somebody new
You love to count minutes, for minutes are true
You lay there forever and cover your head
Is life that much safer when you're still in your bed
You try to relate to another man's pain
His in the music, yours in the rain
And where does it get you to look at the past
When all you complain is that life is not fast

Rebecca, Rebecca, where will you go
You're looking so fancy but no one will know
You love to go dancing, although you can't dance
And you watch many people - you search for a chance
You think about life as you stare at the sun
Is there something unknown in your cool morning run
You wake very early with a breath of soft air
Your life is a tradewind that doesn't seem fair
So you cover your pain by making them laugh
They think you're together but you feel like you're half

Rebecca, Rebecca, why do you hurt
You iron your life like a wrinkled old shirt
You take off your shoes so you feel like you're free
And you look to the mountains that only you see
Do you feel you must win just to prove who you are
Must you act like a mad one or look like a star
And what makes your fingers dance when you touch
Soft shining hair and puppies and such
Is it some sort of magic that makes your eyes shine
And then in a moment you leave it behind

Rebecca, Rebecca, still you must wait
For letters from lovers, for small twists of fate
You run to new people with secrets to share
Then write out your problems for those who might care
You're made up of ice like the snowmen you love
Yet you melt in the light of a candle above
Some try to reach you - you brush them away
And wonder why no one has something to say
Oh, and you stand there all dressed up in red
Let out your pain, you've got dreams in your head