[ Composition Book - Scrawlings of a mom in paradise. ]

November 17, 2003
tuesday is no good for the eradicator
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Today is my anniversary. Our anniversary, Ryan and me. Six years ago, I wasn't sure what would happen next; if we'd make it, if Katie would turn out okay. Not only is Katie great, we have another child. And we did make it.

on the radio this morning: a commercial for a mood-enhancing drug that contains "a mild form" of lithium. LITHIUM, people. A potentially toxic heavy metal given to the mentally ill. A little stressed out that your Lexus isn't running? Lithium may not be for you. I guess it's not surprising, though. They put botox in face cream now, too. Do I need to remind you all what botox is made of?

Katie started at Voyager today. Don't even ask me what they charge for school lunch. Small price to pay, though, I guess. I don't mind making her lunch, though. The hardest part is just getting in the habit of doing it at the same time every day after she gets home so it's done before we have to leave in the morning.


I was going to participate in nanowrimo. I had an idea, and knew kind of where I wanted the story to go, but I had a hard time a) finding enough time and b) justifying writing the big self-indulgent mess I was planning. I was going to set it in my hometown and use places I knew, and even a few people, too, although I would have changed the names. I guess I was afraid everyone would think it was lame. I left all that stuff behind when I moved out here, and I still complain about what a hick town I lived in. What good would it do me to write about it? More importantly, would anyone have read it?

---

The story kind of started unfolding in my head one day when I remembered a guy I went to school with. He was a wrestler and I think he was on the track team. He was also, incidentally, one of three Asians in my class. Since he was a jock, he was a bit of a guy's guy. He had a reputation as a partier and a practical joker with a cruel streak. He seemed destined to join a frat and become an investment banker, buy fifty cars, and vote Republican. That kind of guy.

One day, in computer class, he revealed to several people that he was reading the Bible and that he was taking a lot away from it and was thinking about going to church again. I was glad for him and hoped he found some kind of inner peace; whether at church or from something else. I didn't count on it, though, since all his friends were the frat-boy asshole type and peer pressure is a bitch in high school.

another commercial I hate: the one where the mother has apparently caught her son smoking grass and says that he can't play video games or talk on the phone. Dude, you catch your kid smoking grass, not being able to play Sega should be the least of his worries.

After the summer, we all went back and in my English class, there was a skinny guy who wouldn't talk to anyone. I wondered who he was when the teacher called him by the jock's last name. Odd, I thought, he has the same name as Jock Boy. Wait, that IS Jock Boy.

He had lost forty pounds. And he was entering a monestery after graduation. He wouldn't speak unless spoken to and would say "God bless you" if you did him a favor.

I was going to use him as a character in my story. Who helps the main character dea with the loss of her friend.

Oh well. Maybe next year.


Comments

Oh my gosh. THAT's a story. And THOSE are characters. You gotta do something with this. Seriously.

My advice would be, whether it actually happened that way or not, to tone down on the "God bless yous," as they sound a little charicature-ish. But dang, you could really do something with this.

Posted by: One Bad Pig at November 18, 2003 10:55 PM

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