I never wrote this down before
October 16, 2004
Ah, the sun is shining, the birds are screeching, and I’m blogging over their cries as best I can. Oh, to be at work where it’s quiet! I may have spoken rashly when I told Celia one bird more or less wouldn’t make any difference.
I tried to post a picture of me in my blogger profile today, but my stupid PC is too old and doesn’t have the right processor to run the software, so now I’m in a pout over being financially forced to live in the dark ages (I'm sure I'll be over it in momemts). For the benefit of all my fans out there, I’m a six-foot-tall, willowy blonde with naturally bronze skin and perky…ears.
Here’s a fascinating thing: Do you know that there are actual newsletters out there just for tutors? I did not know this! And conferences and whole entire books, where people just wax philosophical (I guess) on tutoring, and (I hope) trade tutoring tales and tutoring ideas. Who woulda thunk it?
I’ve had experiences, though, that have taught me lots of things are that way. I don’t notice things unless I’m in them. When I was pregnant (many, many moons ago), it seemed to me like the entire female population of the world was pregnant along with me. Now I hardly ever see a pregnant person, and if I did I sure wouldn’t mention it—what if she was just fat?
Long ago, I found myself homeless. Do you know that when you’re homeless, you have to make sure you get to the dumpster behind Ralph’s before the other homeless people if you want to get the best garbage for dinner? It’s true. And Kentucky Fried Chicken, at least where I was at the time, throws away the unsold chicken at the end of the day, but they put it in a double paper bag on top of the dumpster. The dumpster does happen to sit inside a locked fence, but no one will call the cops on you for jumping it. I think that’s kind of them.
There we were, living in a campsite, and our “neighbors” were other homeless people, living in campsites. Then summertime came and tourists took all the campsites, and so we were living in the car in the back of the Denny’s parking lot, and we had neighbors there, too! I used to get up in the morning and go to the gas station bathroom to get ready for work, and I shared the sink with another homeless lady who was getting ready for work. We both had kids that we had to take to school first. It was surreal. Then the car broke down, and I found myself and my family walking around all day and crashing wherever there was shelter at night. There were a whole bunch of other people doing the same thing, whole families with kids and dogs and everything. In fact, we’d give each other tips on safe places. I knew one girl who slept on top of the Taco Bell, with a stolen airline blanket for a bed.
We were invisible, all of us, an entire community no one could see. That was why I’d never known there were so many. I couldn’t see them until I was one of them. And you know what’s sad? I can’t see them any more. Does like only attract like? Or am I wearing invisible blinders?
What does this have to do with Scott’s prompt? Nothing! I’m just observing, and writing it down while I’m at it. Isn’t that what writing is?
Ah, the sun is shining, the birds are screeching, and I’m blogging over their cries as best I can. Oh, to be at work where it’s quiet! I may have spoken rashly when I told Celia one bird more or less wouldn’t make any difference.
I tried to post a picture of me in my blogger profile today, but my stupid PC is too old and doesn’t have the right processor to run the software, so now I’m in a pout over being financially forced to live in the dark ages (I'm sure I'll be over it in momemts). For the benefit of all my fans out there, I’m a six-foot-tall, willowy blonde with naturally bronze skin and perky…ears.
Here’s a fascinating thing: Do you know that there are actual newsletters out there just for tutors? I did not know this! And conferences and whole entire books, where people just wax philosophical (I guess) on tutoring, and (I hope) trade tutoring tales and tutoring ideas. Who woulda thunk it?
I’ve had experiences, though, that have taught me lots of things are that way. I don’t notice things unless I’m in them. When I was pregnant (many, many moons ago), it seemed to me like the entire female population of the world was pregnant along with me. Now I hardly ever see a pregnant person, and if I did I sure wouldn’t mention it—what if she was just fat?
Long ago, I found myself homeless. Do you know that when you’re homeless, you have to make sure you get to the dumpster behind Ralph’s before the other homeless people if you want to get the best garbage for dinner? It’s true. And Kentucky Fried Chicken, at least where I was at the time, throws away the unsold chicken at the end of the day, but they put it in a double paper bag on top of the dumpster. The dumpster does happen to sit inside a locked fence, but no one will call the cops on you for jumping it. I think that’s kind of them.
There we were, living in a campsite, and our “neighbors” were other homeless people, living in campsites. Then summertime came and tourists took all the campsites, and so we were living in the car in the back of the Denny’s parking lot, and we had neighbors there, too! I used to get up in the morning and go to the gas station bathroom to get ready for work, and I shared the sink with another homeless lady who was getting ready for work. We both had kids that we had to take to school first. It was surreal. Then the car broke down, and I found myself and my family walking around all day and crashing wherever there was shelter at night. There were a whole bunch of other people doing the same thing, whole families with kids and dogs and everything. In fact, we’d give each other tips on safe places. I knew one girl who slept on top of the Taco Bell, with a stolen airline blanket for a bed.
We were invisible, all of us, an entire community no one could see. That was why I’d never known there were so many. I couldn’t see them until I was one of them. And you know what’s sad? I can’t see them any more. Does like only attract like? Or am I wearing invisible blinders?
What does this have to do with Scott’s prompt? Nothing! I’m just observing, and writing it down while I’m at it. Isn’t that what writing is?
posted by Anonymous at 10:46 AM
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