I scurried around the house, desperately searching. It had been days since I had seen it, and I was starting to get really frustrated. That elusive white block had managed to escape efforts, feeble as they were, to locate it. I could charge my phone and it was infuriating. No one had yet purchased the iPhone 5 in my family, so I was unable to use my fairly new purchase for the last 48 hours. It was truly devastating.
Hi Ella. I enjoyed your personification of the white-block-charger-Apple-product thing, the cat chasing mouse metaphor did not go amiss with me. I don't really have many criticisms, this is short and sweet really
I have listened to the same Notorious B.I.G. song over and over and over again. It was my junior year theme song, and my summer soundtrack. But now I can't get the choppy rap out of my head, and it's starting to make my thoughts spin. In the shower, in the car, in class, on the bus, at practice, at night....I am haunted by this song, which isn't even about something important; instead of thinking of useful things and doing useful stuff with my time, I just listen to a piece of music about "Notorious Thugs" spinning like a broken record in my brain.
I walk into class breathless, late, as always. Almost all of the seats are filled, and I feel the stupid panic rising in my chest. I try to calm down. It's just a seat, but for some reason, I can't explain why, it panics me. I search in vain for the seat I always sit in, there is one is every class. But, to my distress, it's filled. I look around, trying to see an empty one next to a friend. There isn't one. I hold my breath and and take a seat, accidentally knocking the person next to me. I apologize and try to contain my mortification. I already feel awkward. This is the stupidest fear ever, I'm embarrassed to be afraid but I'm embarrassed and afraid to sit in a different seat.
Cross-dressing was pretty common there. Loose pajama shirts, sunglasses (even indoors), ugly snapbacks to hide the long ponytails, and sweatpants with the waistband around our knees was the typical style. Of course, the one who always dressed like that - Carolyn - was forced into a dress and made to wear her waist-length hair down and brushed. Add a fluffy pink bathrobe over that, and she made the perfect suburban-hippie mom. We were used to blowing everyone else's acts out of the water, but this one was really taking it over the top. Slouching up to the front of the den, trying to appear as masculine as possible, I realized this was probably the greatest thing we'd ever done.
The evenly divided slabs of concrete are like little rivers of lava. They must be avoided. At. All. Costs. God damn, how much more trivial but life-threatening could it be!? Even when I'm talking eagerly with classmates, with strides that perfectly match theirs, a little part of my subconscious reminds me, "Don't step on the cracks!" It ruins my train of thought and forces me to stop being the socialite that I am and, for a brief moment, fixate fervently on what may or may not be one of the least-yet-most important decisions I make all day. After such instances occur, I look up and say, "So, as I was saying," but shucks, the person of interest has disappeared into the crowd of vineyard vine and top-sider wearing academics, perhaps just as quickly as the "avoid the lava!" thought entered my mind.
Alright, time to sew. Do I have my sewing needles? Yes, check. Pins? Hm... No--ow! Fuck, yes I do. Fabric? Hell yeah, fabric all up in this business. In fact... I've got fabric pouring out the ears. But wait... I don't see the right one... The black target I bought yesterday, that was a very shadowy color of dark, and a very opaque material... Where is it... Oh here it is, slipped under the couch. Now I have my fabric, and now I can start. Hold on wait, where's that black thread...
I value my hair more than I should. It really is just made up of strands of dead stuff that one day sprung out of the top of your scalp. The evening of the eighth grade chorus concert arrived, and I was ready, black and white dress and everything, and the only thing I had left to do was my hair. I was going to straighten it. It would take fifteen minutes, and we would leave. But unfortunately, that did not happen. Rather, it ended with me in tears, screaming, "I WONT LEAVE UNTIL THIS LOOKS PERFECT!" Which it didnt. My mother hauled my ass into the car, and in a hurry, forgot to open the garage door. We drove into it.
Avalena, this is really great. Partly I just love it because I have watched your hair evolve over the past 14 years or so of my life, and partly because it's just really well written! You have a dry, sarcastic voice here that works well because it shows the current you looking back on who you used to be, and seeing it with a funny, new perspective.
You know what really grinds my gears? The case for the iPhone 5c has holes in the back, one of which is directly over the place where it says "iPhone," yet, due to the circular nature of the hole and the rather oblong nature of the word iPhone, some of the letters are obscured. This leaves the letters "hon" visible. My beef is this: couldn't Apple, with all their billions spent in R&D and their painstaking commitment to detail and aesthetic, have bumped that circle out a little? Perhaps omitted the circle altogether, covering all the letters but at least doing so in a way that didn't look like there was a screwup in the design of the case? Now, I would understand if the case were designed and manufactured by some third-party company; but it was designed alongside the phone itself. How could Apple's perfectionist sensibilities not be so abhorred by the mere thought of such a faux pas, let alone the actual implication and proliferation, that they remove all the cases from the shelves and create new ones that don't leave the user with a "hon."
I always play music really loud on the way home from school. I revel in the time every day that I can go to my car and for 20 minutes experience music the way I want to experience it: fully immersed, me and the music simultaneously occupying the same space. I have been known to sometimes drive in the wrong direction to prolong this time. One afternoon, in an abnormally long line of traffic on High St., I could feel my excitement building. The Million Dollar Bridge is usually where I can really let it loose, a 3 minute guarantee of no awkward red light stops. So as my light turned green, I turned the stereo to such a volume that pedestrians on the other side of the bridge turned their heads. Halfway across the bridge, as I was loudly proclaiming if you hadn't heard, I was Michael, Magic and Bird, I looked to my right only to look in the window of Cathy Douglas' car, driving in perfect tandem with my own.
I arrived on-set at 12 noon, expecting to eat lunch, talk with the cast, get some homework done before we began at 12:30. I did none of those things. In fact, none of those things ever did get accomplished because I was up in the lights booth calling the show (that means lights cues, actor cues, sound cues, set change cues, backstage cues) until literally 7:45 pm. I ate dinner at about 8:30, and figured that OH RIGHT I HAVE A US1 REACTION PAPER DUE TOMORROW AND I HAVENT EVEN READ THE DOCUMENT. I crawled into bed, thinking I'd read it, take notes, take a shower, brush my teeth and write an outline of the paper in bed before I went to sleep. None of those things happened. I read the first page of the document and then my dad started yelling at me: "LEAH GET OUT OF BED YOU'RE GOING TO BE LATE FOR SCHOOL!" I had slept through my alarm, my dad trying to wake me up 2 separate times before he yelled the previously capitalized statement, and clamored out of bed, where my green book (I now realize, at the time I wasn't 100% conscious to say the least) clattered to the floor. I thought, "Oh CRAP! Homework! I have Latin sentences, a US1 Reaction, Greek sentences, Algebra problems, Essay work, Music history due today anD THE SHOW IS TONIGHT!" Well, good thing I have b-block free, I thought. Whoops. It's b-block and I have no green book to read from, and I've been called to a Crew meeting. I am a complete wreck, and this is my plea for mercy, if there is divine power, this is my plea.
I love this because I can truly identify with the feeling of being overwhelmed and trying to cram homework into small spaces of time. The reader gets a real sense of your frustration and hurriedness. I think the capitalization is a bit overused, but in the dialogue it works really well. Nicely done!
I scurried around the house, desperately searching. It had been days since I had seen it, and I was starting to get really frustrated. That elusive white block had managed to escape efforts, feeble as they were, to locate it. I could charge my phone and it was infuriating. No one had yet purchased the iPhone 5 in my family, so I was unable to use my fairly new purchase for the last 48 hours. It was truly devastating.
ReplyDeleteHi Ella. I enjoyed your personification of the white-block-charger-Apple-product thing, the cat chasing mouse metaphor did not go amiss with me. I don't really have many criticisms, this is short and sweet really
DeleteI have listened to the same Notorious B.I.G. song over and over and over again. It was my junior year theme song, and my summer soundtrack. But now I can't get the choppy rap out of my head, and it's starting to make my thoughts spin. In the shower, in the car, in class, on the bus, at practice, at night....I am haunted by this song, which isn't even about something important; instead of thinking of useful things and doing useful stuff with my time, I just listen to a piece of music about "Notorious Thugs" spinning like a broken record in my brain.
ReplyDeleteI walk into class breathless, late, as always. Almost all of the seats are filled, and I feel the stupid panic rising in my chest. I try to calm down. It's just a seat, but for some reason, I can't explain why, it panics me. I search in vain for the seat I always sit in, there is one is every class. But, to my distress, it's filled. I look around, trying to see an empty one next to a friend. There isn't one. I hold my breath and and take a seat, accidentally knocking the person next to me. I apologize and try to contain my mortification. I already feel awkward. This is the stupidest fear ever, I'm embarrassed to be afraid but I'm embarrassed and afraid to sit in a different seat.
ReplyDeleteCross-dressing was pretty common there. Loose pajama shirts, sunglasses (even indoors), ugly snapbacks to hide the long ponytails, and sweatpants with the waistband around our knees was the typical style. Of course, the one who always dressed like that - Carolyn - was forced into a dress and made to wear her waist-length hair down and brushed. Add a fluffy pink bathrobe over that, and she made the perfect suburban-hippie mom. We were used to blowing everyone else's acts out of the water, but this one was really taking it over the top. Slouching up to the front of the den, trying to appear as masculine as possible, I realized this was probably the greatest thing we'd ever done.
ReplyDeleteThe evenly divided slabs of concrete are like little rivers of lava. They must be avoided. At. All. Costs. God damn, how much more trivial but life-threatening could it be!? Even when I'm talking eagerly with classmates, with strides that perfectly match theirs, a little part of my subconscious reminds me, "Don't step on the cracks!" It ruins my train of thought and forces me to stop being the socialite that I am and, for a brief moment, fixate fervently on what may or may not be one of the least-yet-most important decisions I make all day. After such instances occur, I look up and say, "So, as I was saying," but shucks, the person of interest has disappeared into the crowd of vineyard vine and top-sider wearing academics, perhaps just as quickly as the "avoid the lava!" thought entered my mind.
ReplyDeleteAlright, time to sew. Do I have my sewing needles? Yes, check. Pins? Hm... No--ow! Fuck, yes I do. Fabric? Hell yeah, fabric all up in this business. In fact... I've got fabric pouring out the ears. But wait... I don't see the right one... The black target I bought yesterday, that was a very shadowy color of dark, and a very opaque material... Where is it... Oh here it is, slipped under the couch. Now I have my fabric, and now I can start. Hold on wait, where's that black thread...
ReplyDeleteI value my hair more than I should. It really is just made up of strands of dead stuff that one day sprung out of the top of your scalp. The evening of the eighth grade chorus concert arrived, and I was ready, black and white dress and everything, and the only thing I had left to do was my hair. I was going to straighten it. It would take fifteen minutes, and we would leave. But unfortunately, that did not happen. Rather, it ended with me in tears, screaming, "I WONT LEAVE UNTIL THIS LOOKS PERFECT!" Which it didnt. My mother hauled my ass into the car, and in a hurry, forgot to open the garage door. We drove into it.
ReplyDeleteAvalena, this is really great. Partly I just love it because I have watched your hair evolve over the past 14 years or so of my life, and partly because it's just really well written! You have a dry, sarcastic voice here that works well because it shows the current you looking back on who you used to be, and seeing it with a funny, new perspective.
DeleteYou know what really grinds my gears? The case for the iPhone 5c has holes in the back, one of which is directly over the place where it says "iPhone," yet, due to the circular nature of the hole and the rather oblong nature of the word iPhone, some of the letters are obscured. This leaves the letters "hon" visible. My beef is this: couldn't Apple, with all their billions spent in R&D and their painstaking commitment to detail and aesthetic, have bumped that circle out a little? Perhaps omitted the circle altogether, covering all the letters but at least doing so in a way that didn't look like there was a screwup in the design of the case?
ReplyDeleteNow, I would understand if the case were designed and manufactured by some third-party company; but it was designed alongside the phone itself. How could Apple's perfectionist sensibilities not be so abhorred by the mere thought of such a faux pas, let alone the actual implication and proliferation, that they remove all the cases from the shelves and create new ones that don't leave the user with a "hon."
I always play music really loud on the way home from school. I revel in the time every day that I can go to my car and for 20 minutes experience music the way I want to experience it: fully immersed, me and the music simultaneously occupying the same space. I have been known to sometimes drive in the wrong direction to prolong this time. One afternoon, in an abnormally long line of traffic on High St., I could feel my excitement building. The Million Dollar Bridge is usually where I can really let it loose, a 3 minute guarantee of no awkward red light stops. So as my light turned green, I turned the stereo to such a volume that pedestrians on the other side of the bridge turned their heads. Halfway across the bridge, as I was loudly proclaiming if you hadn't heard, I was Michael, Magic and Bird, I looked to my right only to look in the window of Cathy Douglas' car, driving in perfect tandem with my own.
ReplyDeleteI arrived on-set at 12 noon, expecting to eat lunch, talk with the cast, get some homework done before we began at 12:30. I did none of those things. In fact, none of those things ever did get accomplished because I was up in the lights booth calling the show (that means lights cues, actor cues, sound cues, set change cues, backstage cues) until literally 7:45 pm. I ate dinner at about 8:30, and figured that OH RIGHT I HAVE A US1 REACTION PAPER DUE TOMORROW AND I HAVENT EVEN READ THE DOCUMENT. I crawled into bed, thinking I'd read it, take notes, take a shower, brush my teeth and write an outline of the paper in bed before I went to sleep. None of those things happened. I read the first page of the document and then my dad started yelling at me: "LEAH GET OUT OF BED YOU'RE GOING TO BE LATE FOR SCHOOL!" I had slept through my alarm, my dad trying to wake me up 2 separate times before he yelled the previously capitalized statement, and clamored out of bed, where my green book (I now realize, at the time I wasn't 100% conscious to say the least) clattered to the floor. I thought, "Oh CRAP! Homework! I have Latin sentences, a US1 Reaction, Greek sentences, Algebra problems, Essay work, Music history due today anD THE SHOW IS TONIGHT!" Well, good thing I have b-block free, I thought.
ReplyDeleteWhoops. It's b-block and I have no green book to read from, and I've been called to a Crew meeting. I am a complete wreck, and this is my plea for mercy, if there is divine power, this is my plea.
I love this because I can truly identify with the feeling of being overwhelmed and trying to cram homework into small spaces of time. The reader gets a real sense of your frustration and hurriedness. I think the capitalization is a bit overused, but in the dialogue it works really well. Nicely done!
Delete