Note: There are two exercises for this chapter, but I'm only posting the first one today because it took me so long to complete. I'll post the second one tomorrow.
#1: Tell Me a Story
Pure Narration
It was morning, still early, and we were sitting out on the deck around the outdoor fire pit. The two of them sucked on cigarettes, and I, the asthmatic, had to shift and move constantly to avoid inhaling their smoke. I concentrated on my coffee, stared into it and admired the way the white cream swirled across its surface, as the two of them recounted all the drama that took place the night before. I noticed how this time it wasn’t all the outrageous, uncalled for events that were making me so angry. Instead, it was how the women were being so self-righteous. Each was a tragic mess in their own way, always finding themselves in the same exact situations, the only difference being the people involved. Yet, each always acted as if they were the victim—the drama was always happening to them, and they ignored the common denominator of the drama: themselves. They were always perfect, always rational, and their goal became eliminating the people who they considered to be really at fault from their lives. Once that was done, then the focus shifted to reinventing themselves. For one of the women, the reinvention involved the church and God. For the other, yoga, meditation, and the healing power of crystals promised a new and better life. I bit down on my tongue to keep from asking questions that involved words like reality, responsibility, and self-reflection. If I had learned anything in those last 12 hours it was that any form of constructive criticism from my mouth quickly turned me from friend to judgmental bitch… even if my opinion had been asked for, sought out. I looked down at the jeans I’d slept in. My hair and clothes smelled like an ashtray. My tongue was thick with yeast and had the sour aftertaste of too many beers. All I wanted was to go home and shower, crawl into bed with my mom and watch episodes One Tree Hill while stuffing our faces with ice cream and chocolate and whatever splendid meal my dad had planned for dinner that night. I heard one of the women compare our lives to reality tv. They were discussing what it would be like if we all lived in a house together while someone taped our lives—what we might say about each other during our confession interviews. As they laughed over the comments they’d make about me, I added deflecting to the list of words I couldn’t say.
Pure Scene
“They were just sitting there, drinking beers like it was nothing!” Melissa said.
“Maybe it was nothing,” said Susie.
“There was plenty of beer here. They didn’t need to go up to his place to get more.”
“Maybe they didn’t like the kind you bought.”
“Ok, so get it and then come back. Why stay up there and hang out? The party was here.”
“Why don’t you ask them all this?” I said.
“I did, when I walked in and caught them all in the kitchen.”
“Didn’t you say you started screaming at them?” Susie said. “Maybe the screaming distracted them. Maybe now that you aren’t drunk, you should try talking to them again.”
“And then forgive them like you always do and let them do the same thing to you all over again next party,” I said.
“Wow, Jo, that was pretty harsh,” Susie said.
“No, she’s right,” Melissa said. “I need to start taking stock of my friends. I need to eliminate all these toxic people from my life. Nobody out there appreciates me and all that I do for them.”
“Nope, not a single person,” I said.
“You just need to relax,” Susie said. “You’re too worked up. You need to do yoga or come to my hoop class. Have you tried meditation?
“I think I just need to go back to church and focus on God,” Melissa said.
“Well, whatever it is, it’s good that you are working towards change,” Susie said. “I’ve been feeling the same way, lately. Like I need to change. There is just all this bad juju in my life and I just need to find peace.”
“Too bad you gave away your favorite crystal to ol’ red bra,” I said.
“See, you’re mean,” Susie said.
“I like to think of it as being honest,” I said.
“We need our own reality show,” Melissa said. “Wouldn’t that be funny?”
“Oh yeah, a real riot,” I said. “I can see it now… a montage of Melissa sobbing and asking ‘How does this keep happening to me?’ which then cuts to clips of her making bad choices. Then, her saying, ‘I’m going to change!’ And then more clips of her making bad choices, and again her sobbing and asking ‘How does this keep happening!’”
“And there will be clips of Susie playing devil’s advocate, then talking shit about you behind your back during her interviews?” Melissa said. “Then you’ll see her go off to meditate because she’s so plagued by all the negative energy caused by her being two-faced.”
“You two are both so mean!”
“And you’re so fake!” Melissa said.
Scene and Narration
“They were just sitting there, drinking beers like it was nothing!” Melissa said.
“Maybe it was nothing,” said Susie.
It was morning, still early, and we were sitting out on the deck around the outdoor fire pit. The two of them sucked on cigarettes, and I, the asthmatic, had to shift and move constantly to avoid inhaling their smoke.
“There was plenty of beer here. They didn’t need to go up to his place to get more.”
“Maybe they didn’t like the kind you bought,” Susie said.
“Ok, so get it and then come back. Why stay up there and hang out? The party was here.”
I concentrated on my coffee, stared into it and admired the way the white cream swirled across its surface, as the two of them tried to figure out all the drama that took place the night before. I bit down on my tongue to keep from asking questions that involved words like reality, responsibility, and self-reflection. Instead I said, “Why don’t you ask them all this?”
“I did, when I walked in and caught them all in the kitchen,” Melissa replied.
“Didn’t you say you started screaming at them?” Susie asked. “Maybe the screaming distracted them. Maybe now that you aren’t drunk, you should try talking to them again.”
For as long as we’d known her, Susie spent more energy trying to make you see the other side of things rather than just taking your side. It’s why I called her “Earth Mother.” Well, that, and she always dressed like she was headed to a peace rally.
“Then after they explain themselves, you can forgive them like you always do and let them do the same thing all over again next party,” I said.
“Wow, Jo, that was pretty harsh,” Susie said.
I looked down at the jeans I’d slept in. My hair and clothes smelled like an ashtray. My tongue was thick with yeast and had the sour aftertaste of too many beers. All I wanted was go home and shower, crawl into bed with my mom and watch episodes of One Tree Hill while stuffing our faces with junk food and whatever splendid meal my dad had planned for dinner that night.
“No, she’s right,” Melissa said. “I need to start taking stock of my friends. I need to eliminate all these toxic people from my life. Nobody out there appreciates me and all that I do for them.”
“Nope, not a single person,” I said.
“You just need to relax,” Susie said. “You’re too worked up. You need to do yoga or come to my hoop class. Have you tried meditation?
“I think I just need to go back to church and focus on God,” Melissa said.
I got up to add another log to the fire— an attempt to hide my rolling eyes. These reunions had become so predictable. Drama, poor me, reinvention.
“Well, whatever it is, it’s good that you are working towards change,” Susie said. “I’ve been feeling the same way, lately. Like I need to change. There is just all this bad juju in my life and I just need to find some peace and balance.”
“Too bad you gave away your favorite crystal to ol’ Red Bra,” I said. Last night had been a theme party—“Naughty or Nice” to celebrate Christmas. Apparently the word naughty implied that clothes were optional. Both women found it rude that I had taken to calling some girl I didn’t know “Red Bra” because of her choice to wear lingerie in 40-degree weather.
“See, you’re mean,” Susie said.
“I like to think of it as being honest,” I said. But not as honest as I wanted to be. Reality, responsibility, self-reflection.
“We need our own reality show,” Melissa said. “Wouldn’t that be funny?”
“Oh yeah, a real riot,” I said. “I can see it now… a montage of you sobbing and asking ‘How does this keep happening to me?’ which then cuts to clips of you making bad choices. Then, again, saying, ‘I’m going to change!’ And then more clips of you making bad choices, and again sobbing and asking ‘How does this keep happening!’”
Susie laughed hard and snorted.
“And there will be clips of Susie playing devil’s advocate, then talking shit about you behind your back during her interviews,” Melissa said. “Then you’ll see her go off to meditate because she’s so plagued by all the negative energy caused by her being so two-faced.”
“You two are both mean!”
“And you’re fake!” Melissa said.
And then it was as if they realized that in a couple days I was going back home, to San Diego, and that they would still be living in this small town together, and the focus quickly shifted onto me.
As they came up with clever quips about how my flaws would play out on television, I added deflecting to the list of words I couldn’t say.
No comments:
Post a Comment