Marc
I will be playing the role of Mom. Thank you.
Mom: Okay kids, you have a nice time at the bar. Don't drink too much. Don't get VD. And don't swear in there. You don't want to offend anyone.
Kids: Whatever, Mom!
Mom: (after pause where Kids walk considerable amount of distance away from car) AND DON'T DO DRUGS!
Crowd: Yea! Whoo! Don't do drugs, man.
Kidding. I took the crew to the bar tonight. Drove them, to be exact, and then I headed home. Back to the kitchen. Back to the stool where I study, for the midterm that I have in Children's Lit. I'm not too worried about it, but I also have this pesky little cold virus in me that doesn't seem to want to go anywhere else. Thus I've been sick since Monday morning, and I'm still sick, and I don't want to make the little guy feel any more welcome in my body than he/she already is. Go home! I want to go out tomorrow night, for sure, and I'm hoping that will be a possibility.
Other than that, its pretty low key around here tonight. I've got some Weakerthans playing in the living room, just loud enough for me to be able to hear it in here. I've got my notes spread all over the kitchen counter, jumbled, squiggled, and warbled like a true champ. It's an essay test. What am I worrying about? I just don't like children's stories for the most part. Or at least not analyzing them. I get it. It's not hard, it's just boring. There's no challenge here.
One challenge that is making me increasingly nervous, is my creative writing project for the semester, which is quietly becoming an out of hand monster. I'm going to have to reckon with it soon, but when I write 2700 words in one sitting, I'm not helping matters. Basically, the problem boils down to this: we are allotted 30 to 35 pages for our final portfolio, and those pages must consist of at least two projects. So far, I have one project, and it's 34 pages. I have two options (1) Drastically reduce the size of my little monster, but I can't force myself to do this. It's all gold as far as I'm concerned. I can't kill it bit by bit; or (2) Write a killer, one page story that is engaging, intelligent, and to the point; or (3) Just keep writing like I have been and pray that my instructor will just say, "Aw, you're such a great student, I don't care how big your portfolio is." I wish I wasn't fretting about this, and I wish my little monster would be a bit more tame, but it's not.
*picture me with shoulders slumped, head hanging at an impossible angle, hair in my face, breathing slowly, and sobbing*
It's a memoir from a twelve day trip I took for work this summer. I'm on page 34, and I'm physically, within the story, at Day Two, in the hotel, eating Taco Bell. You wouldn't think it'd be interesting, but I manage, somehow.
Alright, off to pick the Kids up from the bars. I hope they didn't get into too much trouble.
I will be playing the role of Mom. Thank you.
Mom: Okay kids, you have a nice time at the bar. Don't drink too much. Don't get VD. And don't swear in there. You don't want to offend anyone.
Kids: Whatever, Mom!
Mom: (after pause where Kids walk considerable amount of distance away from car) AND DON'T DO DRUGS!
Crowd: Yea! Whoo! Don't do drugs, man.
Kidding. I took the crew to the bar tonight. Drove them, to be exact, and then I headed home. Back to the kitchen. Back to the stool where I study, for the midterm that I have in Children's Lit. I'm not too worried about it, but I also have this pesky little cold virus in me that doesn't seem to want to go anywhere else. Thus I've been sick since Monday morning, and I'm still sick, and I don't want to make the little guy feel any more welcome in my body than he/she already is. Go home! I want to go out tomorrow night, for sure, and I'm hoping that will be a possibility.
Other than that, its pretty low key around here tonight. I've got some Weakerthans playing in the living room, just loud enough for me to be able to hear it in here. I've got my notes spread all over the kitchen counter, jumbled, squiggled, and warbled like a true champ. It's an essay test. What am I worrying about? I just don't like children's stories for the most part. Or at least not analyzing them. I get it. It's not hard, it's just boring. There's no challenge here.
One challenge that is making me increasingly nervous, is my creative writing project for the semester, which is quietly becoming an out of hand monster. I'm going to have to reckon with it soon, but when I write 2700 words in one sitting, I'm not helping matters. Basically, the problem boils down to this: we are allotted 30 to 35 pages for our final portfolio, and those pages must consist of at least two projects. So far, I have one project, and it's 34 pages. I have two options (1) Drastically reduce the size of my little monster, but I can't force myself to do this. It's all gold as far as I'm concerned. I can't kill it bit by bit; or (2) Write a killer, one page story that is engaging, intelligent, and to the point; or (3) Just keep writing like I have been and pray that my instructor will just say, "Aw, you're such a great student, I don't care how big your portfolio is." I wish I wasn't fretting about this, and I wish my little monster would be a bit more tame, but it's not.
*picture me with shoulders slumped, head hanging at an impossible angle, hair in my face, breathing slowly, and sobbing*
It's a memoir from a twelve day trip I took for work this summer. I'm on page 34, and I'm physically, within the story, at Day Two, in the hotel, eating Taco Bell. You wouldn't think it'd be interesting, but I manage, somehow.
Alright, off to pick the Kids up from the bars. I hope they didn't get into too much trouble.
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