Today I had my last creative writing class.
There were three people I wanted to talk to before I left,
because I'd probably never see them again,
and they should know that they matter.
I notice you. You are inspiring.
This is what I was trying to say.
What I wanted to post, is what happened next.
Before I left, a girl turned to me.
She said something along the lines of what I said to these three other people.
But she was uncommonly genuine, and her level of insight shocked me.
You saw that part of me? I thought.
I didn't know anyone could see that.
I was comforted to know that I am visible.
Because I know who I am. I know my worth. But sometimes its shockingly relieving to hear that someone else also knows.
Here's the deal: Until about three weeks ago,
I had distanced myself from this girl.
I held a stupid grudge about
something she'd said earlier that I didn't believe in.
Sill there she was, seeing me,
genuinely looking for who I was.
And I, had blocked myself from seeing her.
Now she's gone.
Thought Number TWO.
After Creative Writing...
I was sittin on a bench outside the Wilk, bent over a notebook in my lap.
Black ink pen.
I was writing about the girl.
The first drop of rain came down-- and I had no idea until
It fell on the back of my neck.
And I knew that that must be the most beautiful place for the rain to make itself known to you.
"Cold cold water.
Let it fall on me.
That is what I wrote next. But you cannot tell what I meant, not from what you just read. You'd have to see it on the page, the ink running in the raindrops that ensued. You'd have to see the sporadic capitals in my handwriting and the sketch I drew next to them. Something is lost here in the void of machinery.
And then, seeing this page, you still may not feel it. Because coldplay and damien rice sing about cold water, and I write about it, and you think about it-- and for all of us, reality differs. How can I make you see my world?
That is what we are
to each other.
My page fills up with me, in those sporadic capitals.
I wonder, What has spun me into the woman I am?
And then, a little boy in a hooded jacked ran past... his family was shuffling to keep up. He looked at me on that bench and yelled "My brother is a DOOfus!"
And I loved
Thought Number THREE:
Tonight I was fixin my schedule at Sabrinas... cookin up some goodness.
I really like Mashed Potatoes and Corn.
This, I think, is a relatively healthy meal.
If you take out the cheese and butter and milk-- there is health left over.
Sabrina informs me that this combination is all starched up, and therefore will turn straight to sugar inside of me. You know what that is? A fat load of dumb that's what.
And there I was spoonin my potatoes in ignorance.
(Thought 3B:)Has anyone else noticed a severe lack of butts on campus?
Its like the body part has failed to exist.
And I swear I didn't notice on purpose.
Is it the skinny jeans? Cause those make butts weird.
All cougs: please eat some mashed potatoes and get that mess goin.