Sunday, August 23, 2009

This is me, trying to write creatively about a year and a half ago at a writing group

2/2/08

Your first kiss?

Your last kiss?

It’s quantifiable.

How long should it last? There’s a number that both should be.

Cheryl stood upon the four-poster bed and definitively spoke up holding a bright red lipstick in one hand and a Gumby doll on the other, clearly taking on the instructor role.

“How long should it last?” asked Marilyn, a devoted follower.
“We’re paying good money to this so we better get quality advice.” Said another cynic.

“How do I get someone who hasn’t noticed me all year to suddenly show interest?”

Yeah, it’s tenth grade. There are chess club dorks who had 2 first kisses already. Marilyn stared at the sign that read “Kissing Workshop: how to make it happen for you this year” with the $10 price printed in lipstick and scoffed.

Why did she ever think this was a good idea? She had let Sarah drag her here, but in no way did she have any interest in the course description on the on the Myspace.com profile for Cheryl Green. Yeah, she guessed the info might come in handy if there happened to be an eligible or even tolerable dude to walk in to the doors of the school, but first kiss/last kiss? She should be more focused on algebra and solving for x.

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If you had told me this was going to happen a week ago, I never would have believed you. So it was Friday morning, before 7am, and I’m driving my usual route to work and not two blocks away from my doorstep do I hear and see a SPLAT of white right in the center of my wind shield. Seriously? This can’t be happening. Not now. Not when the wiper fluid in my car is either frozen or empty. Not when I have to make it through six hours with a half-fake smile plastered on my face for the good of the workplace.

And OHMYGOODNESS! How much bigger could this SPLAT be? Did the poor bird have intestinal issues? Why did it have to choose my windshield as a dumping ground? Was this supposed to be a metaphor for my day/week/month/life? Indicative of other metaphorical shit no doubt, what else would be dumped on me that Friday? Don’t the heavens know that my Thursday was already bad enough? This should have happened on a Thursday afternoon. Not on a FRIDAY morning! Don’t these powers realize that they shant do ANYTHING without consulting me FIRST? So yes, if I’d had known a week ago that I’d end the week with a huge bird waste splatter in the center of my windshield, I wouldn’t have believed you, but at least I would have been prepared enough to have a rag in my car to wipe it off there.

Now it sits on the center of my windshield, almost mocking me and my life decisions. Almost mocking me and where I chose to concentrate my efforts. It sits, and I sit, in need of a rag and a way to control the universe. In need of a way to seek revenge on the bird that left a palm-sized splatter on the center of my windshield. In need of control, more control, and more, and a healthy way of letting it all go at the end of a day/week/month. If you told me I’d end up in Minnesota a year ago, I wouldn’t have believed you, but I would have stared at you seriously and have asked A LOT more questions. If you told me I would have ended up coming here alone, I wouldn’t have believed you, but I probably would have asked you to come with me. If nothing more than to make the car ride more interesting.
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