Writing group last night and it was well attended - nine writers in good form and humor! Coming up on another Landmark marathon weekend, three full days from 10AM to about midnight, Friday-Sunday. I'm taking the advanced class that builds on the last seminar. Means I won't write tomorrow as usual, won't have time. Ha! And time management is a central theme of my life today. The old Sarah would try to fit it all into an impossible time slot and be late for everything!
Kay led the writing prompts last night and did a great job - the writing that came from her ideas was really compelling. My writing was odd, but that makes sense, given how odd and disjointed I feel many days. Didn't hate it though. Here is the first piece that was written with the prompt of choosing one of five professions given (I chose psychiatrist - others chose dog walker or piano tuner, etc). And there was a sentence given that we had to weave into our piece as well.
"There were two of you?" he asked.
"That's what she said - twins," I answered.
"Fraternal or identical?"
"Identical."
"Where is she now - did she tell you?"
"She doesn't know. I'm not even sure if she's alive."
"Are you OK?"
"No. Would you be if your mother had just dropped that bomb on you? My whole life has been a lie. I don't even know what's real anymore."
"You're real," he said, lovingly and smiled that smile that always made me want to crawl up his arm and curl up in his warm heart."
"Thanks." I returned his smile.
The day was blustery - I almost cancelled our session, nervous to be out and about with sumo wrestling fronts battling it out in the clouds above. One would win. Either the cold front, that had rushed in from the north, would push the sweet Indian summer south, or the balmy breezes would hold their own, refusing to be usurped by the chilly bully.
I glanced nervously out Kaveh's window that overlooked Lake Shore Drive and Lake Michigan. He probably thought I was thinking of my newly discovered twin sister. I knew he was searching my face for a clue to my true feelings. To help him along, I furrowed my brow and pursed my lips in a soulful expression, always the actress. I wondered if my twin shared that proclivity, the need for adulation and attention. I wondered if, like in a parallel universe, she too was sitting in her therapist's office - also looking out the window at waves splashing over the beach wall, covering a lakefront highway. It looked like the northern bully was winning the weather wrestling match.
"What are you thinking about," he finally asked.
"Whether any of this is real, " I answered teasingly, knowing the vaguness of my answer would set his mind to spinning. Sure enough, he leaned in. I went on. "I mean, if we are all the stories we tell and then someone comes along and takes all your stories away, doesn't that mean you never existed? And Kaveh, I've never been sure I was real. When I was a kid, I was always surprised, when I looked into a mirror and there was me. Now there's this whole Higgs Bosun discovery and the thought there may be six or seven more dimentions. I'm pretty sure I really live in one of them - pretty sure this is all a figment of my imagination."
You're real," he replied, dead serious. "So, am I. You're allowed to pinch me if you want."
"Seriously?" I said surprised and delighted. "You've never let me touch you before!"Weird, I know. The thing about conceiving, writing and finishing in just 15-20 minutes is that you don't have time to overthink your pieces. Half the time you don't even know where the writing is going - you just channel something from that creative, barely conscious part of your brain. Many of us are surprised at the stuff that comes out.
The second piece was funny - think you might enjoy it more. Again the prompt was a bit complicated. Mine was a gold and black dress and a disaster.
When the invitation arrived in the mail, I had no idea who it was from. A black and white ball - white tie. As I removed the invite from the black velvet lined envelope tiny pieces of black and white confetti fell to the floor.
I called Liza and James to see if they had gotten one too. No, it turned out, they hadn't. Did they know who it could be from? "No," they said, as curious as me.
That night, as I lay awake, unable to sleep for all my curiosity, I heard a text beep. "Odd," I thought. "Who could be texting me at such a late hour?"
"Did you get the invitation?" It was Derek - ugh - weirdo Derek who I'd never even met but who had been wooing me online for the better part of a year. I'm too nice, I know, always giving misfits a chance, probably leading them on, thinking I can help them by pointing out things they need to change, like loosing a picture of them nude on a burro, or the one with a big parrot perched on his head, a big splotch of parrot poop on his shoulder.
Derek was one of my projects. his profile picture, taken in his bathroom mirror was so close up, it spotlighted the caps on his teeth and his copious nose hair. And the angle of the picture made him look like half his head was forehead and the rest of his face, a vanishing act with almost no chin at all.
"Liza, it's Derek! The invite is from Derek!" I could hear her bathing her kids in the background. she always had several of them seemingly attached.
The weirdo on the burro?" she asked.
"No, that was Arnold. Derick is the one who calls himself a Texas oilman." When James heard that he guffawed and said, "Yeah right, hair oil, maybe."
"Go and report back!" Liza was living vicariously, wishing for a black and white ball of her own.
The next Saturday found me descending alternate black and whilte steps at the Ritz. I looked for my host - trying to pick Derek's face from the crowd of guests whose eyes were all focused on my descent down the stairs. I had been announced just like in an old movie.
And then he found me - I mean she found me. Dressed in a gorgeous black and gold dress, he broke free of his other guests. "Darlene," he/she gushed. "You are absolutely beautiful. I'm so pleased to finally meet you," He kissed me on the lips to the astonishment of his other guests.
"Dereck?" I gasped. I'd recognize those nose hairs anywhere.All for now. Got another monster list to do battle with. It's never ending, the things that need doing. Reminds me of a charming story I loved as a child with a starving family who was visited by a magic mouse who gave them a tiny tin of rice. They were touched and grateful even though there was only enough for each of them to have one small, mouse-sized serving. When they emptied the tin, the next day, it was full again and was forever full from that day hence. That story has haunted me - not sure why - the idea that there is always enough, even when things seem depleted. That the future will provide.
Anyway, my list is the list that keeps on giving - it will never obsolete itself! No challenge today - just enjoy my pieces. I will "talk" with you again on Monday.
Peace,
Sarah
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