not so classy after all

so i'm reconsidering posting some things from my creative non-fiction class. here's the thing. i've used names. i don't know who is going to end up reading any of this or if anyone will at all, but the last thing i want is for someone to think that i shared a part of them that they didn't want me to. i'm thinking that unless i talk with the people i wrote about, i'm going to feel like a total shady mcshaderson if i just post it all.

furthermore, since writing those pieces almost one year ago, a lot has changed. so putting those up now makes me feel kind of uncomfortable and nauseous. i've been thinking about taking the assignments and reworking them or writing new pieces, but i haven't made up my mind completely.

regardless, since i've picked up english for my double major i'm going to be taking a fuck load of writing courses and literature courses (go figure, right?) so i shall be posting much about all those things.

i really wanted to write about that dream that had me waking up crying, but i feel like the circumstances within the dream are entirely too close to me right now, so sorry no juicy details about such an emotional slumber.

6:19 AM

i woke up crying.

bad dream. sad dream. sometimes people are just really uncaring and cold. sometimes people say things they don't mean. sometimes people say things they do mean, but then change their minds. and sometimes people genuinely want to hurt you. that's the way the cookie crumbles. that's the way worlds fall apart.

c'est la vie.

Class Baby

i reckon i'm going to post some things i wrote for a creative non-fiction class i took last fall.

in other news, i'm thinking about going into drama therapy. it could be cool. unfortunately there aren't many schools which offer it specifically at the graduate level. there's one in canada. nyu also has a program. we shall see. we shall see indeed.

dream lover come rescue me

a few nights ago i had a dream starring the lead singer of one of my favorite bands. i was attending an experimental play at a shoddy looking theatre - which i of course found incredibly charming. we had to go up a ladder escape to get in. i don't remember what the play was about, but i remember that it made my bones feel good. at the end of the play, the director and producers came out on stage and did a bunch of thank yous and what not. although i don't think there were any flowers, how refreshing. the last person they thanked was said singer of one of my favorite bands. i was absolutely shocked, but knew it just had to make sense since i felt that the music spoke to me more than any of the words of the production.

jump to the parking lot: my mother, one of my brothers, some friends, and myself were walking out to the tour bus that we apparently took to see the play. the whole time i was trying to figure out if all that music was pre-recorded or if said singer of one of my favorite bands was actually there in the flesh. i turned around and saw him coming out of the theatre, locking the door behind him.

without a thought i started walking back toward the theatre. i introduced myself, telling him that we had actually met at a show earlier in the month, which is true - he said he remembered, which i had hoped. the next few exchanges were me asking him questions about side projects and him answering me in borderline rude responses. i told him that if i was keeping him from something he was more than welcome to leave. he told me i was fine. not in the way in which one is trying to holla, but in the you're-okay-don't-worry kind of way, but maybe with less assurance.

i looked at him. he looked down. i said: so, when did you break up?

his eyes started to water. he looked up: how did you know?

i can see your heart is broken.

i felt an urge to comfort him, almost as if it was my duty, and i think i did. because well, he looked comforted. for a few moments two people who had next to nothing to do with each other needed nothing more than each other.

and so a seed is planted. i'm sewing seeds. yeah.

anytime i put something out there that came from in here i get really nervous. luckily i've been prescribed some great muscle relaxers and can now handle really putting stuff out there. okay, that's a lie. they suck and are too weak. kicking that wall, not being able to walk, and getting the vicodin really upped my standards. anyway, like my darling friend macky, i am tired of that folder called "awesome shit" or "shit in progress" or anything that more or less meant "stuff i wanna keep to work on in the future or think about in the future but don't really know what to do with right now." and so, here it is, a garden of my shit, but in internet land, we'll call it the eggplant garden. may it grow forever.

p.s. this whole thing may end up to be nothing at all like the aforementioned. i lie. don't hate me.