If we don't write it down, historians won't know

A poem by Jeigh.


I fed my rose orange juice today
Because water wasn't working
I don't think she likes it much
But the sun has gone down anyway

The toothpaste bottle went empty
So I tried the tube from the emergency kit
When I pulled the brush from my mouth
The bristles came out pink

When I don't push the drawer in all the way
I bang my knees against it
I found another bruise this morning
I just never learn

I'm wearing my last clean pair of socks today
But I don't go home until tomorrow
I guess I'll have to wear them again
Not that anyone will notice

The pipes make a lot of noise
And the heater blows too hot
The humidifier makes it worse
But at least my nose doesn't bleed

It isn't snowing today
But I can see the paths of snowmen
Outside my window where they formed
But now lay in piles across Coate Field

I wish I were going home today
But I'm not
I should be studying for my French exam
But I'm not

--Jeigh

When the muse says, "That's enough."

Jeigh didn’t think there was such a thing as writing too much, not as long as the inspiration kept flowing. God had just sent Jeigh a message. It probably said, “Stop working on that novel and start studying for your finals.” Although it very well could have said, “The bathroom’s free. You can take a shower now.” She much preferred this interpretation particularly because that’s what she did. She’d been trying to take a shower all morning, but the showers were flooded. Ah, dorm life. So you’re wondering how it is that Jeigh noticed this message. Well, it was simple. She’d been typing her novel all morning when her N key fell off. That’s right. The N key on her keyboard. Le clavier. It just fell off. She hadn’t been typing on it particularly hard nor were her fingers sticky. And the laptop wasn’t even a year old! It just gave up and she had no idea how to fix it. It had little white things that could come up and down, but she wasn’t about to try to glue it back together without the advice of an ITS specialist. Now the key sat taped to her wrist rest as a tribute to her angry muse. God had not invented the laptop. He made trees because parchment outlasts ever-upgrading software and cheap plastic hardware. The irony of this whole thing was that the final that she had yet to study for was science, the very institution that invented this laptop. Thank you nerds of the world. Thank you for building crappy toys that only you know how to fix.