Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

After about 45 minutes of aimless wandering and asking directions from no less than 3 certified CTA rail personnel, I was finally able to find my little brother Malik's school. Ironically enough, it was his directions that got us there. He, who succeeded where 3 adults w/knowledge of the city's streets had failed me. Which, of course, was an interesting revelation meaning that, in no uncertain terms, the only way for me to get anywhere in this God forsaken city is to be talked to like a 5 year old.

When we entered the school I was immediately confronted by an angry lunch lady who was tired of slipping Malik his breakfast for free, so I coughed up a dollar fuckin fifty and sat down with him at the table to help him put jelly on his bagel. As I sat there, watching him sip his juice I began to feel nervous. We were almost 15 minutes early but still I kept checking the clock and jumping every time I heard someone so much as mention anything that sounded remotely like the words "School bell". Terrified that he wouldn't be able to eat his breakfast in time, I nearly force fed him when a teacher said they only had 5 minutes.

When the bell finally rung, I jumped up w/Malik to help him toss his trash and rush to the classroom. But as we approached the hallway, I suddenly didn't want to be there. I could smell the fresh notebook paper, the scent of new bookbags, strained against the shoulders of young children waiting for the day's lesson. It smelled like—well—school. Suddenly I had a flashback of all the schools I'd left, and ditched, and ran amok in and I felt like a fucking monster. I passed the note from Mom into the teacher's hands and stumbled out of the school looking upon eager young faces in horror at the thought that they, someday, might end up like me.

Once outside, I attacked my bag in search of a cigarette only to realize that I'd hate myself even more for smoking in front of the kids. Instead I did what any noble and moral upstanding person would do. I lit up as soon as I cleared the school grounds and had 3 in a row. What was wrong with me? Why had the sight of young children going to school, something I had seen my entire life, suddenly seemed so unnerving? Why couldn't I look any of them in the eye? I thought briefly on all the failings in my life and realized with a shudder that most of them stemmed from the fact that I'd left school before I finished. That I had failed in the one thing everyone had been so sure I'd succeed in. I missed my chance, blew it all for the sake of being grown-up, and in control. Turns out I was better off on the other side of the fence, young, innocent, and sane with no pitiful addictions to nicotine, no raging sex drive and no budding alcoholism.

I shook with nervous confusion all the way back to the train station. I pictured my little brother. I recalled the memory of him eagerly munching his breakfast, then leading the way cheerfully down the hall to his classroom. Ready to learn. Ready to interact and be shaped into the man he was soon to become. I focused on that memory and prayed. "Dear God," I thought, "Please don't let him be like me and fuck it all up." Amen.

a true recounting of pain.... i don't know about pain, exactly, except for my own sometime ago, like yesterday, and not nearly as hard, not exactly..

I fucked it all up when I was twenty, when I was forty, when I was sixty, and if I am lucky enough I may live long enough to fuck it all up at eighty.

I cut school so much the school board threatened to fine my parents for not sending me to school. My father would drop me off at the front door and watch me go in. Later he got smarter and drove around to the back door to catch me coming out the other side.

Sorry for the ramble. Yep its too late. Its all over at twenty. Keep telling yourself that. I used that line all the time. Its too late. Too late.

It is harder these days it seems, my nephew is twenty two, his childhood trashed and now he has to live with shit that would never have shown up on his "permanent record" The downside of the information age. No place to hide, second chances are harder to find.

I wish I had a big sister like you.

I liked your post a lot
Just jamming it
Language confusion and jam

breakfast at eight and smell of food since nine (my classroom is next to the kitchen). That's why maybe kids always return after the recreos.

Bravo!!!!
I haven't read any of your posts lately or much of your writing at all but this piece flows. It hits on a topic that many of us face today both young and old.
In third grade I use to stick my finger down my throat to induce just enough vomit to be sent home on a daily basis. I wouldn't skip sort of speak. I let the system work for me. My god, they sent me home. This went on for years until I didn't care anymore. If I did that today medical authorities would have been called on to evaluate me. When I reached high school that is just what I did, I got high, right there on the front lawn in front of everyone with everyone. As long as I could run faster than any teachers that might persue I didn't get in trouble. Finally by the eleventh grade, (so close), I dropped out got a job and an apartement and I was on my way to where I am today, no where!
It's to late, stilltrucking says. He's right for us pushing towards the golden years but for some one young you still have time, not much time though. Right now time creeps but one day you will wake up and you too will be a half century old and a twenty-four hour day will seem to last only seconds. In other words no time for education. Wife/husband, family. kids. job and bills will kill any hopes for furthing education. What I am trying to say is don't be all fucked up at such a young age go for it. Persue education!!!
Being a writer and not a great one has caused me to reconsider education and I know it is not to late I just have to talk myself out of believing it's to late. All I need is a GED, time and money. To late? Maybe for me.

My god I used the F-word, girl you got me all riled up!

Don't you just hate when something happens and all you can do is stand there stunned by it all.
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Honda CD250U

mnaz... pain is it weird. It comes and goes at it's own pace. Someitmes happens b/c you think it should... like how a cut on your finger never hurts until you see it bleed then you walk around having sharp intakes of breath every two seconds b/c you were a bit careless with slicing those potatoes.

ST: Everyone fucks up. For me, it's like a way of life. Now I'm here, doing whatever it is that I call myself doing and I'm not sure why I ever coul;d have thought this would be more fun. I had my mother who was pregnat at 18 with me as an example of the struggle I'd have. Sometimes stupidity reigns no matter how hard you fight it.

Aracadia: smell brings back so much to us. It really does. Sometimes All I do is think about a smell and my senses go numb with pleasure. IT's only too bad I didn't appreciate the smell of sucess when it was calling me back home.

Sober: Thanks. I'm glad I can still hook you in every once and awhile. I was beginning to think I was a failure in the one thing I have ever been good at... this shit. This writing shit. My great-aunt is 63. She just got her high school diploma about three months ago online. Never too late, no matter how much you keep telling yourself it is. The thing is, you've gotta shut up long enough to even realize it.

Dave, you'd be amazed at the amount of things I have been stunned by, and the amount of times I have done nothing about it.

I wish I could wirte like this again.

--k

I wish I could write like that period.

Wow! I really really felt this piece Iz, a stirful read indeed.
There is alot more here that most hopefully, will be written.
The insight in this is extremely powerful....I mean, it's rich!
It's a gift Iz....an you got it.
How do you feel about this experience now?
H

I suck at smoking...and cigarettes have never been my thing. And the closest I ever came to ditching school was the day when it started snowing and I heard the them talking in the office about how we'd all be dismissed after lunch, but since I didn't want to drive in the snow, I snuck out before lunch. I opted to go to a high school that allowed be an extra period after the regular school day ended--and for two years, I traded in my lunch for a ninth class. Me and rules: we matched each other well...

...and your writing still drags me in, somehow relating.

You write with more strength than all the power of the rules and more compassion than I can imagine. And I wonder what would have been explained in that note from Mom, but I'm not sure I want to know.

izeveryboyin wrote:I wish I could wirte like this again.

--k

You can. And you will.

I've seen it time and again... the muse stops for a while.. and then BOOM, the floodgates open and more than ever, better than ever, it pours out!

It will happen.

(I'm waiting myself.... I have to believe it! )

we are not the same persons all the time so I doubt I could and want to write like I wrote before. But sure it´s still possible to keep writing!!!
besos!

Siempre se manifiesta la posibilidad del escribir, oremos.