Helpful Advice

Me: Teacher, one of the students called my narrator(me) spoiled, arrogant, insensitive and whiny.

Pause.

Teacher: You should have slapped her across the face. Then said, And violent.

I love Kim Chee

I have always loved Kim Chee. Spicy, garlic, pungent. My CSA box has been sending me Napa Cabbage. It’s crazy big and not much else to do with it but stir fry as far as I know. I thought about making Kim Chee but have always intimidated. Then I mentioned in my ESl class that I love Kim Chee. The next day, a student brings me some. Today she told me the recipe. It sounded so easy, no measuring of course – but I figured I could handle it. It needs a few days to ferment. I’ll let you know how it goes. So far, it’s a little salty!

I thought I’d add this poem that I wrote. Completely unrelated to my recent culinary adventures…

The Warriors of Spring

Connie always wore
Her swimsuit over panties
White, dotted with tiny flowers
Bulging underneath lycra
And out through leg holes

I never understood why
But never asked
Because asking is telling

I told myself that she already knew
And I liked going to her house
Having her teach me scales on the piano
While her mother made Kim Chee

I was nine when I learned
I can rescue you if you get hurt
In the water
I know how to hold you and swim you to shore
And I can save myself
By letting go

Simply drift and wait

I was out sick the day school tested our survival skills. The following week I floated, deserted, for an hour in a roped off part of the pool. I would have been easily spotted from above, dark hair snaking in warm aqua water while the others jumped and screamed and splashed five feet away.

As I hovered over the deep end
I thought about Connie
Uncomfortable in thick
Cotton soaked underwear
Then I imagined myself
In the middle of the ocean

All alone
Hoping

I swim now, twenty-some years later
With more or less fear
I can’t tell

Being weightless
Reminds me of childhood
I let the blue and white tiled path
Lead me to the other side
Then back again
As though I need to be guided
Still
Chlorinated chest high water

Connie cried
When two boys saw
Her sitting on the toilet
In the church bathroom
One held the other up
To peer over the stall

It doesn’t matter
What could they have seen?
I said

But it didn’t matter
What
I said

If you find yourself stranded at sea with no boat and no life vest, remain calm. Hold your arms out in the shape of a U with your face under water. Lift your head only when you need to breathe.

Road Rage, My Bad

I learned a valuable lesson today, folks. Actually, I should have learned this long ago and even not so long ago. Let me explain…

I live very close to a freeway exit which is awesome and not. One of the problems is that 4-5 lanes merge when I need to get over to the exit only lane. It’s dangerous and even more so at rush hour. So I’m driving home in rush hour after just doing a reading of my work to an audience at school. Nerves were ripe.

I got almost all the way to the right without getting hit and there’s this dude who won’t let me into the exit only lane that I need to be into so I can go home. So, I flipped him off and yelled. He saw me and then I realized that he wasn’t trying to keep me out of the lane – he didn’t even see me because he was talking on the phone. I continued to struggle to get over and ended up in front of him. I knew this wasn’t a gracious act on his part and thought, oh bugger.

When we exited, I pulled into a different lane and he pulled behind me. His high beams were on and he was following close. I drove by my house because, as I said, I learned that lesson. I quickly pulled into a left hand turn lane hoping he would continue straight ahead. He pulled behind me. I was at a stop. I locked my door.

He got out of the car and came to my window. It struck me as amusing that he had his cel phone in hand. This was our exchange:

“What’s your problem?”

“You shouldn’t drive while you are on the phone.”

“What’s your problem?”

“You shouldn’t drive while you are on the phone.”

And then he walked back to his car. We both turned and after a moments pause he drove away from me. I doubled back and went home.

Did he think I was crazy and flipping him off for no reason? Did he have anger management problems? Do I?

All I can do is give this advice. If you are driving home in rush hour in your fancy convertible car with the special ‘art’ license plate don’t flip off the guy on the phone in the beat up mini van who, it turns out, works for Fed Ex or at least was wearing one of their T-shirts. I hope he’s not a Fed Ex driver.

And I promise to stop flipping people off. I promise. I promise. I promise. I’ll pretend to do it in my head instead.

Pat on my back

For my paper making class, we had to bring in a short piece of writing that another class will typeset onto our paper. I was kind of indifferent about it. I mean, I wasn’t going to bring in the poem I wrote about becoming a flesh-eating beast.

But in the end, I figured I would bring in a piece of my own writing. It was a silly little 32 word dialog. The class voted on all the submissions. I tied with William Carlos Williams. The class voted again and he won by a single vote.

All I can say is, it’s on Billy. Someday my words will be typeset for realz.

Home work

Can you guess the assignment?

I’ve been writing…

These are 32-word stories inspired by the theme of ‘dreams’. Not everything you read is true.

The subway station is empty. I put two quarters into the machine. A movie ticket pops out for Grease. I laugh and wonder how this will get me to wherever I’m going.

I have to finish the filing before I can leave but when I look at the stack of papers, it hasn’t gotten any smaller. I look at the clock, hours have passed.

I see my friend ahead of me. I call her name. She turns around and starts speaking to me in Japanese. I’m upset because I was the one who studied the language.

It’s me and my iguana, Iggy Guava. We are surrounded by darkness. How can I make you happy? I ask. Banana Squash, he says. I love to eat Banana Squash. I smile.

It’s like rolling down a hill. Floating in the ocean or swinging upside down. Laughing so hard you can’t breathe or turning your head upwards and letting the rain tickle your face.

We are several people standing around a table having a discussion. I can’t speak. The man standing next to me tells me, You can say anything you want. This is your dream.

Saturday Morning Conversation Excerpt

Me: “Things (money) will be better when I get out of school.”

Grandpa: “When will that be?”

one week left

ok ok, i haven’t been blogging as i should. but there was the holiday and now i have one week left until the end of the semester. i’m working day and night to finish an art book. pictures coming soon…

Monday, Monday

In order to be able to take job #5, I had to switch workshop classes. I told my instructor and the program manager emailed my ‘new’ instructor. And he never got back to her. Class is tonight and I’m going to crash it.

Any of you ever had your families move when you were younger and need to switch schools mid-year? I have, plenty. Tonight is going to be like junior high all over again. Picture me, clutching my school books trying to explain what I’m doing there. Awkward.

Hope the cool kids are nice to me.