Fact: I like my brother-in-law-to-be. I like him when he is changing lightbulbs and fixing my computer and killing spiders and making my sister happy. I don't like him when I wake up at 9:00 (a.m.), wander to the bathroom, and find him in my kitchen (which can be seen on the way to the bathroom).
Fact: I decided OrneryGuy wasn't so ornery. Maybe just misunderstood. Struggling with not being the class/staff genius. I decided to be nice to him, to encourage him (yes, this is all terribly patronizing, but what are you going to do?). And then I get my final workshop responses back from him. I would quote it, but then I would have it here forever and I'm planning on burning the damn thing. But he begins by telling me that he thinks workshop would be much better if we were all more honest (e.g., we should tell him he sucks as a poet so that he can just stop working--his idea, not mine). So he's going to be honest with me and tell me that I should stop working on "things incommon" because it has and will never have any redeeming value. Oh, and "Captions" is an exercise in futility. And his final "constructive criticism"? "EG, were you born in a museum?" Damn him. Damn. Damn. Damn.
I was going to stop there, but it isn't happening today. I have all these stupid, idealistic theories and beliefs that I adhere to in my life. One is that if you work hard enough at anything you will be successful. I know this isn't a fact--it's just what I want to believe. The other is that if you believe enough in people, they will start to believe in themselves and in others. So I'm an ass. A quixotic ass. And I wind up being disappointed with people occasionally. But this. . . it wasn't out of kindness or honesty. It was just plain meanness. I want to kick him in the shins. But let's face it--I'll see him tomorrow night at the final and just smile and clap and be pleasant to his girlfriend (who is too cool for him). And then I'll rant to anyone foolish enough to stand still for a moment.
Excuse me. My keyboard is smoking.
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5 comments:
Pooh on him.
Ohhhh c'mon Dulcinea -- perhaps his oneryness will one day win the heart of his fair (though be it shin kicking) inamorata!
and yes. . . you should absolutely kick his shins, kick his frickin shins as hard as you can and RUN!!!!!
I like the angry tone. It makes me happy to be able to direct some of my last week fumes towards this arse. I would like to put him to sleep and put a tattoo on his forehead that reads: I completed a graduate poetry workshop and all I got was this stupid haiku. OK, so I don't really know how to write a haiku. It's pretty late.
Yay for the shin kickedge. I fully approve. I have steel-toed boots if you want them.
well,
i think im in that class, and i seem to be the only one who hasnt commented, so im wondering if the ornery guy is me. except i made it through the reading with shins intact. hmmm. much to think about.
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