While I Was Watching the Oscars (Week 5)

Some where in between a rehearsal for a play I’m in this weekend, and The 84th Oscars, I managed to read a piece. I read “The Witness of the High Hats” by Lockie Hunter. It was published in the Baltimore Review (https://curlyteri.wordpress.com/wp-admin/post-new.php). I didn’t know what it was about until about somewhere in the middle of the first paragraph. I loved that  Hunter was able to create character and personality where so many of us would not have seen any.

Though the piece is surprisingly short, there was a great amount of detail. She created in me a concern for the man she called Gray. I was kind of disappointed that we’ll never know what happened to him. I can’t pick out a single favorite moment everything works so well together. I had “awww” moments and “laugh out loud” moments. I really enjoyed everything about this one. I’m getting better at this random picking. I do think that there may be a little more going on than what is happening on the surface of this essay. I wish I had a little more. It was such a fast and easy read that when I got to the end, it was kind of like running into  wall.

Once, I Tried To Be A Poet

For a while, during those “Teenaged angst” years, I wrote poetry. I wrote about everything, from my biological dad to my interesting freshman year of college. Somewhere along the line I decided I was no good and I stopped. While I was cleaning up tonight I found and old notebook with my favorite poem in it. I wrote it when I was 17 and 3 weeks deep into the college experience. I got the title as I was walking from my dorm to campus. I saw it on a bumper and the rest is history.

Three The Hard Way

“You ready?”

He breathes.

She giggles.

I begin.

An uninhibited release

of the storm within.

Grasping, clutching

In and Out

the air escapes.

He breathes.

She giggles.

I shiver and wait.

Wallowing in my insecurities

Is she better? Prettier?

Was it her that he wanted?

Me again.

The storm is gone,

just shyness left

It’s a game, a dance,

a fight for his attention.

He breathes.

She giggles.

A fuzzy darkness

Dazed still waiting.

Twisted, tangled

His arm, my thigh,

Her hand, his leg,

Thoughts fly by

bouncing around in the dark

Me again.

Warm, sharp,

bittersweet.

Enveloping every inch of me

He breathes.

She giggles.

I sigh.

Breathless.

That is circa 2006 (Wow!) I didn’t say it was any good, but oh how it brings back memories. Maybe one day I’ll write an essay about this poem.

Top 10 Before 26

1. Dance in a company as a principle dancer

2. Publish 8 pieces in various Lit. Mags

3. Choreograph a major show

4. Get accepted into NYU Tisch School of the Arts

5. Intern at Alvin Ailey

6. Sky Dive

7. Leave the country

8. Learn to play the acoustic guitar

9. Meet Debbie Allen

10. To Be Announced…

With graduation sneaking closer, I find myself obsessing over what is next. I know what I want, but the way to get there is a little murky. I figured if I made a list, it’d be easier to remember what I want and to figure out how to get them.

Kit the Cat

I have a cat. Her name is Kit. After naming her I was banned from naming all future pets. Sometimes I call her Kitty. It’s not a very good name, but she responds to it. Over Christmas, my mother got a puppy, Bandit. As cute as he is Kit hates him. She won’t come downstairs if he is out and hisses if he gets too close. I haven’t been home in about 5 weeks so I haven’t seen her. My mom says she’s not eating much and is depressed. Maybe if Kit gets some internet attention she’ll feel better. So I am dedicating this post to my Kitty, my love, my cuddle cat, who is 278 miles away. I hope she feels the love vibes.

Annnnd…Another One Bites The Dust (Week 4)

This week I read “Pearl”, by Kyle Torke. It was published in the 6th Issue of Transect Magazine (http://translitmag.com/#nonfiction_torke). So far it is my favorite. It made me laugh out loud several times. I chose it at random and when I finished I was so glad I chose it. Torke writes about his neighbor Pearl. I knew I was hooked when Pearl ran the Mormons, who came to convert her, away.

“Now you boys listen to me and listen good you’d better get on the right path to righteousness this Mormonism you’re preaching is dangerous and dishonest I once had a friend who weren’t on the right path and she’s burning in hell right now I’m sure of it as I’m sure the devil is in your purse right there all those little black books full of lies and evilworshipping and the sun don’t set on but one kingdom and it’s the good kingdom and it’s the right kingdom and it sure ain’t the kingdom you boys is living in….”

This quote made the essay for me. It was the first time I got to hear Pearl. After I saw her, I didn’t want to stop reading.  I thought it was perfect. Sitting through these “Do you know Jesus” talks is something we have all been forced to do and weren’t lucky enough to get out of with that much style. Torke paints a picture of Pearl with his use of her dialogue and doesn’t really reveal very much about her physical appearance.

Even thought  he doesn’t give a lot of detail about what Pearl looks like, I feel like I know this woman. Pearl was a great character and Torke’s writing gives just enough detail to get the reader to use their imagination. If I could draw, I’d draw a picture of Pearl. I don’t have any complaints. Well, I do have one, I wanted so much more.  I was disappointed that it was as short as it was. I know he has to have dozens of Pearl stories. I don’t want to say anything else I think you all should go read it.

The “Fashion” Show That Wasn’t: A Rant

I’ve been at Georgia Southern for five years, and every year there are productions put on by various organizations. We are invited to a slew of poetry slams, fashion shows, and plays. Tonight we were enticed into the Performing Arts Center with promises of original clothes and a theme that would leave the women in the audience feeling empowered. After 2 and half hours of unfinished hemlines, nipple slips, and derogatory lyrics–I was disappointed.

I don’t find 20 girls marching to the beat of a bass heavy track as a man yells “B–ch” over it empowering. In fact, I was offended that whoever thought up the theme thought that it would fly with all the inconsistencies. Who would feel empowered bending over in a front of a half naked man as some rapper tells him to “drop that check, break her neck, make the p—-y wet…” I mean come on. Really?

Needless to say, that the show and its inconsistent presentation was a failure.

I am….

If you read my posts, (I don’t think many people do) then you know that I was kind of anxious about my latest workshop piece which was about abortion. Just to re-cap: I didn’t want to write an essay that was about being pro-life or pro-choice (Check out No Agenda). I just wanted to tell a story, and for the first time ever, I turned in a piece that I was proud of. I felt like the content was the way I wanted. As a writer, dancer, and choreographer I rarely feel like I am done improving upon a piece, but in this case, once I make a few corrections I will have a piece that is complete. I don’t’t feel like I need to tweak and change chunks of it.

This success has also brought back my workshop anxiety. When I left class Tuesday and made it halfway to my car, I stopped in the middle of the parking lot and thought “Crap! what do I write about now? “

Another Week Gone. Response 3

This week I read “Religion: A Body Called Church.” By Maggi Van Dorn. It was published in the Santa Clara Review. It was a series of anecdotes about her experiences in religious studies and her quest to understand religion. The title caught my eye because I wasn’t sure what it was going to be.

As I read the first paragraph, I was like “Crap” I picked an academic piece and she’s going to go into details about statistics. Since I had already spent an hour scouring NewPages for a journal, I decided to keep reading. I am so glad that I did. If it was only to read the part about the S&M crucifixion (ha). Her voice in this part of the essay was spot on. She was uncomfortable and she was able to make me feel exactly what she felt. That was my favorite part. She is consistent throughout and really establishes why she spends so much time studying religion. What I love about her essay is that most people can relate to the search to make sense out of doctrine and religion. It was nice to know that at least one other person feels the way that I do.

Surprise!!! I moonlight as an A–hole

If my weekend were an essay, that title would be the thesis. I encountered a series of very uncomfortable events that left me wondering if all men behave this way. I had a few experiences with a special breed of a–hole this weekend. It would be hilarious/unbelievable if it happened to any one else or on a sitcom. Let’s just say I was fooled by a Colgate worthy smile and some witty remarks. Shame on me.

I dated a guy for three years. He moves to 2500 miles and a 3hr time difference were of no assistance to the health of that relationship. Until very recently, we were attempting to be “friends.” How people manage to be friends with the person who wanted to marry them escapes me. Any way, I asked my “friend” if I could borrow some money about 2 weeks ago (Being a full time college student with no loans and a minimum wage part time job is no fun.) It was rent time I had just spent about $350 on books and I needed money. I couldn’t ask my parents, so I asked him. He gave it to me, and of course I intended on paying it back.

I got my paycheck just as Re-pay day rolled around and I am a dollar short. 4 quarters. 10 dimes. 20 nickels. 100 pennies. This man flips out! He says “I’m not being rude but you borrow $___, you  return $____.” All I could say was you’re kidding me. It’s a dollar. So very long story short, I borrowed a dollar from someone else.

I was really shocked because this guy is supposed to really care about me and he sh-t a brick over a dollar.

Response week 2

So far, I am picking my readings at random. Earlier this week (or maybe late last week) I was introduced to the lyrical essay. Initially it totally confused me and I was so lost. The piece I read this week was a lyrical essay and thanks to Jared and Professor Bolden I could appreciate it for what it was. I read Falling, Stairs, Fragments, Fire by Micaela Seidel. It was published in the winter 2011 issue of Two Hawks Quarterly (http://twohawksquarterly.com/2010/12/10/falling-stairs-fragments-fire-by-micaela-seidel/)

   Seidel shared several memories that had something to do with her son’s mental illness. I took a couple of reads to find the common thread in each section but when I found it I thought that the piece was lovely. I enjoyed reading what she wrote her voice is very descriptive and honest.

While I was unable to relate to the experience, her piece allowed me into a very intimate place and I was able to look past the fact that I’m still getting the hang of the lyrical essay and really enjoy the stories that were being showcased.