1. Suit-shopping is even less fun than shoe-shopping. 2. Skinny people approaching age 30 can have cellulite. Apparently due to lack of essential fatty acids. Sadness. 3. If you can ignore the desperate cries of a hungry cat for two hours before getting out of bed, you're probably not ready to bear children. 4. The masala chai I drank in India was made with goat's milk. Apparently, I like unpasteurized goat's milk.
Hello Friends! Jeffa's awesome blog about her first days in Atlanta has inspired me to rise from the blogging dead. In a nutshell, my year away from the classroom has been a combination of learning, existential crises, and much-needed rest. The negatives: loneliness (I'll leave out the gory details). The positives: quality time with husband (sans school stress!), 8-10 hours of sleep each night, working with teachers and really loving it, no grading on weekends, no anxiety attacks on Sunday nights, time to read read read, and time to write... So at the risk of embarrassing myself, I wanted to share a bit of my fiction doodlings with y'all, to give you an idea of my twisted psychology. Now, I write as slow as molasses and am totally delinquent about finishing pieces, but exercising this creative muscle makes me happy. Here's an excerpt from a current work-in-progress, inspired by the homeless of Manhattan:
She emerged from the blue dumpster like Aphrodite of the landfill, sodden diapers, apple rinds, and broken glass cascading off of her back. Flecks of trash clung to the matted ropes of hair the color of wheat, and as she swung her legs over the metal bin and landed on the pavement, debris sprayed in all directions. In the fading twilight, a single spinach leaf glistened on her cheek.
Rough drafts are fun, since I give myself the freedom to slap a bunch of random characters in random situations on a page and see what happens. Here's an excerpt from a story I started based on a friend's complaint about her sister-in-law's strange-chocolate eating ritual:
On her glass coffee table, Caroline lines twenty Dove chocolates in twin rows. The small heart-shaped packages stand like infantry soldiers, straight and ready. One by one, she peels the aluminum foil off of each chocolate and eats them. In the background, a Bach Fugue ambles in sync with water dripping from the kitchen faucet. Caroline alternates between dark and milk chocolates, savoring first the bittersweet cacao dusting her lips, then the creamy film coating the roof of her mouth. She wonders what it would be like to swim in a vat of warm, melted chocolate, if breathing would be possible or even necessary.
She giggles. Herman would enjoy a good swim in fudge. She pictures the man upstairs, tubes and wires coming out of his limp, grey body. His shattered legs, encased in plaster of Paris, his spine a crooked wand. The tree saved his life from careening a thousand feet into a ravine of rock and dead wood. The doctor had said if he was lucky, he could regain the use of his upper body. He was alive, at least. Sometimes Caroline fantasized throwing him out the window to see if he would wake up and save himself. Flap his flabby white arms with seagulls above the rooftop in his big-person diaper and wave.
So yah, this is the kinda stuff I've been doing to keep myself from going crazy with too much time on my hands. I miss my Torrance gang so much and think about you all the time, even though I'm terrible at keeping in touch. If you think of any interesting story ideas--or witness any strange people or behaviors--please send them my way!
In my fantasy snackshop, Michael Vartan would greet you at the door with a basketful of roasted almonds. He'd welcome you inside a quaint hut sequestered in the shade of lemon trees, in which a plethora of dried fruit, tofu, and diet hansen's soda await. As you enter this haven of sweet and savory delight, the tart scent of apple and pineapple rings would greet your nosehairs and you'd revel at the five-hundred choices of soymilk and bean curd before you. The selection-- from teriyaki to sesame dream-- of baked tofu would astound you to tears, and you would need to call for Michael (Vartan) to bring a few frozen raisins and a diet pomegranate hansen's drink (yes, they came out with a fabulous new flavor!) to help you regain composure. You are in Creesto's snack heaven. Dried apricots, dried persimmons, dried lychees, and dried peaches in one aisle, dried cuttlefish and other smelly friends in another aisle.
Hullo friends. It's been a gazilillion years and since my last post, I've given up dried fruit and started cooking gourmet meals. Yah right.
Really, though, I have made a few exquisite changes: got married to the best guy ever (who, according to my parents' friends, possesses movie-star-good-looks), and put in my resignation at work. I decided that 'tis NOT "nobler in mind to suffer the slings and arrows" of teaching and 'twould be wiser to "take arms against the sea of troubles" that the profession has become for me. I love my coworkers, love my school, love my kids. But I'm burnt like abandoned toast, like backsides of middle-aged women on Waikiki. On the bright side, I'm looking forward to crawling out of my rabbit hole to join y'all in society for some fresh air. I miss you guys.
Oh, and I LOVE David Archuleta. And am frightened of Danny Noriega. Eww.
Thank you to everyone for your thoughtful birthday messages and
tributes!!! I feel loved. I've forgotten how many
incriminating photos we've taken together (or rather, that you've taken
of me). I hope my students never find our xangas.
So I often ask my ninth graders to write a "State of the Self" journal
entry inspired by the annual "State of the Union" address given by the
president. I'm not good at posting dailies on my life, so here's a
snapshot of me today, ninth grader journal style...
Current State of the Creesto (Wed, 8/16/2006)
age: 27
cash in wallet: $6.00 and change
hairstyle: long, droopy, in need of queer eye makeover
skin: brown like bread crust, but relatively clear. pimple approaching in crevice joining right nostril and cheek.
accomplishments in the last 24 hours:
returned unread library books, vacuumed, trimmed my fingernails, wrote
a course syllabus, serviced one serious customer at office hours (but
socialized for three hours with four other kids, talking about
everything from dan brown's da vinci code to nano-technology to little
people on the learning channel. oh, and i peed at least 20 times.
tonight's dinner: stir-fried tofu and shiitake mushrooms with peas and corn wrapped in a sprouted wheat tortilla.
obsessions: watching project runway, picking hair off of my bathroom floor, running to my NYtrip ipod mix
in love with: my alex
repulsed by: jen's friendster whose name rhymes with "smelly," biggest tool ever birthed
recent occasions for joy:
biking on the monterey coastline with alex, hiking a shady leafy trail
to stinson beach, opening a giftbag full of gourmet dried fruits and
grapes from jean
looking forward to: costco
dinner (rotisserie chicken, white corn on cob, salad) w/ alex tomorrow,
jen returning to bay area friday, azn art museum sunday, official first
full day at new summit h.s. site on monday, lana's visit in late
september
my friends, would you all share a snapshot of your current "state"?
