Well hey there, summer!
We're trying to ease ourselves back into the creative, selfabsorbed mindspace that has generated the majority of SP posts and kept our loyal readership of 3 riveted. It might take us some time, but we just had a pretty serious gmail chat about reviving this precious piece of the internet.
Today I'd like to share a piece of poetry I wrote when I was 8. It's entirely possible I've written an entire post about this subject before, because I have like 4 stories that I interchange, but this time there's photographic evidence.
So I went to a "Gifted and Talented" school from 1st through 5th grade... ironic because I had already finished 1st grade in another state but was judged to be not quite mature enough for 2nd grade in my new school. The first appearance of a common theme in my life.
My mother became what you might call an academic stage mother, which is super bogus because if she had just invested the time and energy spent making me read books and quizzing me on Great Women In History flashcards (Seriously. Seriously, I had those) into something worthwhile, like infant beauty pageants or a desperate quest for child stardom complete with a U-Haul journey to a long-term stay motel in LA where I would go on audition after audition, smiling a wide gummy smile under fluorescent lighing (gives gifted children headaches, BTW) while reciting stale copy designed to convince an endless, indistinguishable calvalcade of balding disinterested producers that I loved Polly Pocket, I loved her SO BAD, while my mother chain smoked outside mentally calculating the number of extra shifts she'd have to pick up at Denny's in order to make the weekly rent, IF that had happened instead, we'd all have a lot more to show for it, but I guess that ship sailed as soon as I got my very first pair of thick plastic glasses at age 6, with an asexual bowl cut to match. So it looked like I would have to be smart.
(Please note that this was an excellent preview for what I would find are the 3 generic marginalizations that most extremely tall girls get .. "You must play basketball" "Wow you're tall. You should..... uh...model..."(said insincerely) or "Jesus, you're tall... like a dude.")
OK, so all that setup is just to explain that my mother decided she was going to force me to live up to the moniker Gifted and Talented and therefore made me enter any and all writing or art-based competitions within the great state of Indiana. And then it happened.... I won BIG.
See below:
let me transcribe, because a phone camera picture of a ditto sheet from 1992 is not the best way to preserve such a worth relic of my past. Unfortunately, there's no way to recreate the sheer awesomeness of the clip art used to illustrate.
Maria's poem "Rain" won first place in the 3rd and 4th grade Poetry Division in the Creative Writing Contest sponsored by the Indianapolis- Marion County Public Library Foundation.
(Maria is a 3rd grade student in Mrs. Hyatt's class)
RAIN
The winning of this competition is, for real, the best thing I've ever done in my mother's eyes. Until the day at age like, 20 that I finally begged her to stop and never ever ever mention that goddamn fucking "Rain" poem again, she would bring this up as evidence of my creative genius and thusly my entitlement to success at some sort.
MOM: Baby, look at all you've done in your life already. Remember "Rain"?
That's all I have for today. Welcome back, Stag Party!
See below:
let me transcribe, because a phone camera picture of a ditto sheet from 1992 is not the best way to preserve such a worth relic of my past. Unfortunately, there's no way to recreate the sheer awesomeness of the clip art used to illustrate.
Maria's poem "Rain" won first place in the 3rd and 4th grade Poetry Division in the Creative Writing Contest sponsored by the Indianapolis- Marion County Public Library Foundation.
Maria's poem was one of 1,162 entries received in her division. Congratulations to Maria for her outstanding wirting!
Heavenly tears from the skies.
As it cries. As it cries.Drizzling lakes, pouring seas
Puddles up to the kneesIt is truly a wonderous time
When the rain will fall and the sun ceases to shineOh, Mother Nature!
You have given us a gift!Noone else but you could creat rain
So soft, so swift.Oh, what a thing you are. Rain!
Trickling down the window pane.I could not have peace without you.
Rain.Dang, move over Maya Angelou, am I right? Also, the fact that there were 1,161 poems deemed WORSE than this cloying verse that I probably plagiarized is depressing. I'm glad my lack of any kind of religious upbringing led me to call upon "Mother Nature" instead of "Jesus" or "Heavenly Father". I was basically destined to be an Orkila camp counselor and praise "Earth" before every meal.
MARIA, AGE 17: I didn't get into NYU and I'm too fat for my prom dress and it looks like I have a hickey on my neck but really it's just a big zit because I've never even kissed a boy and I don't have cute shoes because my feet are too big and I hate everything, everything in the world.
5 comments:
Ohmygod this post speaks to my soul. Seriously my mom does the same thing, like when I'm trying to talk to the Only hot guy at the Christmas party and she leans over my shoulder and says, you know, our little Claire here is an award-winning artist, but she means I won the grocery store Easter coloring contest in second grade by coloring in the bunny with a hot pink crayon, which happened to be the only crayon that was available to me because my little sister had left the crayon box in the windowsill where it had melted all the appropriate bunny colors, including but not limited to gray, brown, and tan. But anyways.
At least your mom wanted the world to think you were special. My mom's mantra to us Jensen kids was, "You're special to me because you're my kids. To everyone else, you're not special at all."
Siply Awesome !!!!!!!!!
Brizz......
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This post...had me laughing. Not out loud or demonstratively, but still, I laughed. It was the quiet internal laugh that comes with recognition of a kindred spirit. When I realized that it was almost 4 years old I was saddened. Where have you taken your talent? Come back!
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