Wednesday, May 18, 2005
Where I take a writing class
I dreamed I signed up for a creative writing class at the college. Class was always held in the computer lab for some reason (and not even the little closed-off ones, the big one) and for the first two days our teacher was a girl but on the third day it was a guy. (Erm... we switched teachers. She didn't turn into a guy.) I got a C on my first writing assignment for some tiny reason but I wasn't even that upset.
Then she assigned us a poem to write about a random thing in our life so I started off writing about a flower but at the end had a bunch of weird rambly things that made no sense, like, "It's fast time in timeland" and such. She asked me to read it to the class, so I did, except my dad was there too, and I felt really, really stupid, because it was a stupid poem. When I finished my dad was giving me this look like "What was that?" and so I said, "Well, erm, I don't even know what that means at the end, I was just kinda....." and my instructor goes, "That. Was. Incredible."
Then on day #3, my dad wanders into the lab again with his laptop, this time, and sits against a wall waiting for my class to be let out. Our instructor (a guy now) says, "Uh, for tomorrow, uh, write something about your family. OKAY! Now let's talk about Sarah Michelle Gellar, the super robot mutant. Isn't it so unfair that she doesn't get the same treatment we do?"
He lectures for like twenty minutes on this, and my dad flips open his laptop and starts watching Strong Bad Emails. My instructor turns to him and goes, "Mario. Rebuke." (Which means he thought he was playing Super Mario on his computer.) Dad goes, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I HAD to play this." To which my instructor responds, "No, I mean the bag," and points to this GIANT bucket sitting by the door. Dad says it's not his bag and I say it's not mine, and the instructor starts yelling, "Well whose bag is it? You can't just bring a bag into class and DUMP it there!"
Then she assigned us a poem to write about a random thing in our life so I started off writing about a flower but at the end had a bunch of weird rambly things that made no sense, like, "It's fast time in timeland" and such. She asked me to read it to the class, so I did, except my dad was there too, and I felt really, really stupid, because it was a stupid poem. When I finished my dad was giving me this look like "What was that?" and so I said, "Well, erm, I don't even know what that means at the end, I was just kinda....." and my instructor goes, "That. Was. Incredible."
Then on day #3, my dad wanders into the lab again with his laptop, this time, and sits against a wall waiting for my class to be let out. Our instructor (a guy now) says, "Uh, for tomorrow, uh, write something about your family. OKAY! Now let's talk about Sarah Michelle Gellar, the super robot mutant. Isn't it so unfair that she doesn't get the same treatment we do?"
He lectures for like twenty minutes on this, and my dad flips open his laptop and starts watching Strong Bad Emails. My instructor turns to him and goes, "Mario. Rebuke." (Which means he thought he was playing Super Mario on his computer.) Dad goes, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I HAD to play this." To which my instructor responds, "No, I mean the bag," and points to this GIANT bucket sitting by the door. Dad says it's not his bag and I say it's not mine, and the instructor starts yelling, "Well whose bag is it? You can't just bring a bag into class and DUMP it there!"
Labels: dad, mario, sarah michelle gellar, strong bad
Comments:
Post a Comment
