Day 244
I made it to breakfast this morning. I sat at a table with a friend of mine. A friend that I used to think was a total creeper, but have grown to love. But, sometimes, especially in the morning, it's hard to come up with something to start off our conversations with so, I told him awhile back that I was always collecting jokes. This morning he told me several, and I kept egging (haha) him on to tell me more and more, figuring he was on a roll. Finally, he said, "I need some time to think about this and I'll get back to you." Again, I egged him on, "Come on, you know more. Tell me more!" And he said, "You know, I had to tell jokes at knife point once." "What?!" I asked in bewilderment, half-thinking that this was a joke as well. "Yeah, the bullies at my high school held a knife to my throat and made me tell them jokes."
Okay, so apparently, I hadn't read the chapter in Emily Post in how to deal with unexpected traumatizing tales at the breakfast table. So, I tried to dilute the situation by telling him part of the reason that I ask him to tell me jokes all the time. I said, "You know, I used to hear you tell the bartender at the pub jokes all the time and I was jealous." Granted, this wasn't the reason I had him tell me jokes, but I had to say something. And to that he responded, "I only told him jokes because I thought he'd cut me off otherwise." I would've laughed at this had I not known that it was the plotting of a serious alcoholic. After that, there wasn't really much else to say.
Creative Writing Reality Check #124: Grief. I am getting an application ready to apply for a TA-ship for next year. As part of this application you must send in a sample of your writing. This I'd thought to be of little concern considering that I had just written and rewritten a couple pieces a million times, including a piece that I had sent into a contest and was quite proud of. But, apparently, NOTHING is ever as easy and carefree as it seems. As I went through the pieces I discovered that there were more than several mistakes in both of them and at least two major mistakes in the one I had sent out to a contest, fully thinking I had a shot at winning the 500 bucks. Let's hope that I caught enough of the errors this go around to ensure that I'd be considered for a TA job and if not, let's hope that the people who have to read my manuscript get a few good laughs.
This afternoon my high school kids came over to read as part of a joining of the after school programs me and my peers have been teaching. Not only were they eager to show up and explore the disgusting asbestos-ridden old shack my department is located on, they were excited about reading. A few of my kids braved the crowded room and read their work in front of total strangers and their friends. I had never been so proud.
There were a few other kids that stuck out from the fold. Kids that I had never seen before. One was a boy who brought up his friends to act out a skit of him interacting with a vampire. The other one that got my attention was one of the girls from another school. She said she didn't really want to read. Finally, she gave in and read as the second to last slot of the evening. She read an excerpt from a bigger piece of science fiction she was working on and blew everyone's mind with her storytelling. After she was done reading, the emcee of the event asked her what grade she was in. "Nine," she responded.
I wanted to tell her that at Grade 9 she was already a superior writer than over half of the MFA students. I wanted to adopt this brainchild, but mostly I wanted to be her. When I realized that this wasn't possible it hit me, this kid's better than me. This either makes me want to work super hard day and night on craft, or drop to my knees and say, "I'm not worthy."
After the reading we all ate cake, and everyone chatted. The kids read to small groups and the other teachers mingled. Just before my kids were leaving they came up and hugged me one by one. Did I mention, we'd never hugged before? Who knew that volunteering to wrangle teens in a musty library after school one day a week could be so gratifying. They make me wish that I could have a whole pack of teenage children. Who needs babies, they are so boring. I wish there was a hilarious observation to be made about this reading but there isn't. These kids are wonderful and have taught me many ways in how I should live my life. I look forward to learning how to bake a cake so I can give it to them.
Tonight, like many nights, my friend from next door came over. Also, like many nights, we were drinking together. We went up to the games room. Turns out that the exercise bike that I had wanted to steal the other day has already been stolen, or possibly thrown out. Though, call me paranoid, I suspect that it now resides in someone else's room. Hmm... Anyway, we drank and played cards and then were interrupted by a resident who flirts with me quite a bit. He spoke about cookies, and booze and his homeland and then he said to me, "You've never had a boyfriend before, right?"
I was shocked at the question, not really sure how it related to booze and such. I told him that I have had several boyfriends and asked him why he'd like to know. "He said, "Because I am your friend." A few minutes later he added, "You just seem really immature." Immediately, my friend came to my aid. Asking him if he knew that he was being rude. I just sat there in wonderment. What would compell you to say something like that? Was he trying to offend me? Does he really think so much of himself that I would care if he judged me? It took everything I had to stop from laughing out loud. "What do you mean, exactly?" I remarked, interested in how far he'd go. He said, "I don't want to get into a deep conversation."
Tip of the Day:Living in a residence hall is like living with a whole bunch of brothers and sisters. Don't get crushes on anyone, because the same as brothers and sisters, you will always find them a little fucked up.
-Canadian Castaway
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