2011.01.20 Text 3 notes

  1. Grabbing the hat, replacing the anecdote

    Today in my Poetry Workshop class, we finally did the awkward around-the-room introduction thing. Our teacher Deb looks around at the beginning of class and says, “I think the people who dropped dropped, and the people who wanted to add added. Let’s do the formal introduction thing.”

    So we go around the room. I’m surprised that the room isn’t packed entirely with English majors, and the fun facts always seem to warrant a laugh or a moderately impressed “Huh!”.

    Then, in the way that it always seems to go, the eyes of Deb and my peers move my way, expecting my response. Normally this doesn’t worry me, but for some reason I end up getting just the slightest bit nervous this time. I’m speaking pretty quickly.

    “Hey, I’m A.J. I’m from Colorado Springs, but my hometown is Philadelphia. I’m an English major, and I’m in this class because I like both poetry and fiction, but fiction was filled up! So yeah, and uh…”

    The part I was supposed to answer next escaped me for a moment, but I pulled it back quickly like a hat that’s trying to blow off into the wind. Except one never really forgets how to put on a hat. I didn’t know exactly what to say for the next answer.

    “What’s your experience with writing?” It was something like that. I presumed this meant creative writing.

    The old anecdote I always used buzzed through my head—the one about me getting really interested in poetry back in freshman year, but then I started to think I really sucked and then I got into journalism and creative writing sort of stopped happening for me but yeah I guess I’m ready to pick it back up or whatever.

    Immediately, I knew I wasn’t going to go on like that because I would just look silly. I hope I’m not the only one that has those moments that only last a second, but feel like an intense few minutes in your head.

    “And I’ve been writing since…”

    This pause felt three semesters long.

    “…foreeeever.”

    I sounded like I was channeling David in that David After Dentist video.

    Then, I quickly tried to recover, with “And uh, I play bass!” To that, Deb asked, “Are you like, in a band?” I make a joke about how I have a few friends who want to start bands and that they’ll “call me”, quotation fingers and all. For some reason, this gets a few laughs, and the pressure’s off and onto the really tan girl next to me with the facial piercings.

    Later, I was pondering about the word “forever”, and how it came out without guilt for me. Then I flash back to the little orangy-red notebook that I used to carry around constantly for a good while in high school. If you knew me in high school, there was a pretty high chance that you knew about that notebook. On it’s cover there were letter stickers spelling out the name “Tired But Wired”, and random taped magazine clippings of bands I liked. Inside of its pages were the songs I tried to write, the letters I never sent, the frustrated scribblings of a greasy-faced high school kid, lyrics by those bands I liked, sweet nothings, and all other sorts of things. I remember having to stop using it (the pages all getting filled up) and getting other notebooks. No notebook mattered to me quite like that one did, but in hindsight I did more writing aside from my duties on the newspaper than I give myself credit for. Then I remembered the short stories I tried to write in middle school that were never completed and were never read by anyone else (the plots were always too derivative of the back stories of Final Fantasy characters). Then, I remember how I got an award for being a good reader back in Philadelphia in elementary school, and got to read a book to the principle.

    Suddenly, I’m really proud to say that I’m an English major. I’ve been preparing for this my whole life.