Saturday, February 28, 2009

exercise 2 - daughter's version

"I hate my life. I'm a spoon. All I do is get food on me and then go into a human's mouth. It's disgusting!"

Then they just give me a bath in the dishwasher. I hate the dishwasher.

Suddenly the diswasher responded, "Well then, I hate you too."

Spoon was startled, "Hey you weren't on, how could you hear me?"

"I may not be on, but I can still hear." dishwasher responded

"You were eavesdropping weren't you?" spoon accused

"Was not"

"Were so"

"Whatever" dishwasher said

"Eavesdropper...Eavesdropper" spoon taunted

"Stop It!" dishwasher commanded

"Why don't you make me?" spoon challenged.

"All you do is just give me bath so I go into a dark room" spoon said.

"I would rather go into a dark room than sit here all day washing you guys. I hate it! I hate it! I hate it!"

Spoon responded, "But in that room all you do is sit in one spot nothing else."

Dishwasher said" But that is all I do. I have no choice. Whatever, I am done talking with you."

"Bye"
"Bye"

Exercise 2

Exercise 2: write from the point of view of a spoon in a dishwasher

The pleasure is over. Spoony realized as he was suddenly dropped into the penalty box.

"Get your coffee, cream self away from me" snapped the lasagna encrusted fork, as if Spoony had any control of where he was placed.

In the rankings of the silverware community, forks held supremacy, and always felt disdain for any "lower class" silverware being in their proximity. Forks were worshiped, because they were always praised by the users. It was a revered position, for it was a hazardous position. Although many disappeared from the community, forks were the most likely to vanish. They would leave from the commune happy only to disappear to the mystery land. Knives were also part of the silverware upperclass. They had their own rankings. Steak knives held superiority. They weren't used by the users often, but when they were, they didn't have to go through the splasher like everyone else. They received a spa treatment which set them apart. The users pampered them. The butter knives and the simple knives were all comrades with the spoons, they held the same community rankings, being picked upon by the forks and the steak knives.

Spoony scanned the splash box. He realized he was lucky, he reached the splash box when reservations were full. The upper level was filled with glasses and his lower level was filled with plates and pots. He knew the wait for the splash wouldn't be long since the splash was full.

The great door opened three more times and lasagna fork had to be disturbed by more spoons and one of the great commander wiskers, so he kept his attituded to himself. No one ever spoke evil around one of the utility wares. They held supremacy to all, because they didn't disappear. They had been around from the beginning of the silverware commune, and were the wisest of all. Wisker was used only on occasion, but he never disappeared and wasn't kept in the commune but had his own personal hook. That alone set him apart from everyone else.

Then the crackling sound happened. It was always the sign the splash was about to start.

Whisker tried to calm Spoony, " Son, I know you have only been through this a few times, but instead of fearing it each time, reach out to it. Then you will enjoy it."

Spoony questioned the thought. Every time the splash happened, he closed his eyes and pretended he was somewhere else. He was always happy afterwards, being shiny and bright, but the process scared him.

The box began to rumble. The spoons and crusted fork all quivered. Spoony looked at Wisker and saw him smile and look forward.

The splasher started. Water sprouted everywhere. Spoony again looked at Wisker and saw him smile and appreciate every splash. Crusted shook in fear and the other spoons and knives leaned against him. Spoony tried to stand strong and decided to feel the splash this time. He stood fearless.

The splash hit him in waves, each one as strong as the other. Some felt harsh, but also wonderful, because with each splash he realized he was shed of the cream he was covered in. The bubbles were tender and tasted odd, they even tickled.

Eventually the splash stopped. Crusted and the knives opened their eyes and relaxed. Spoony sat in the box feeling rejuvenated. Wisker winked at him.

Cruster again began to complain, "OK splasher is over how long will they make me sit here with you low lives? I need to be put back with my fork brothers where I belong rather than with YOU"

Spoony smiled, realizing that Cruster would never really understand. Spoony realized regardless of Cruster's beliefs, he was no better than Spoony.

He looked to Whisker.

Whisker again winked acknowledging the shared knowledge.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

san diego

Most people consider the moment they lost their innocence the day they lost their virginity, the moment they witnessed a horrific crime, or the moment they learned deception. I consider my moment of losing my innocence to be when I saw my parents as people, and was told to keep deep dark secrets (a pattern I was later told to continue). I consider it to be the moment when I experienced something I could not understand and was told I had to pretend it never happened.

I do not believe that the walls of our home had ever felt the tension within it's walls like it had that day.

Our family was, as far as I knew, the family of a typical Military officer. My brother was in sports, and I was in many activities, and the whole family supported everyone at those events. My parents had dinner parties, we children had birthday parties, and we always went on family vacations. I was in ballet and girl scouts, did home plays in the neighborhood, and even had lemonade stands on occasion.

My parents had called my brother and I to the dining room table for a discussion. Such a moment was foreign to my brother and I. Our family was not one to have family meetings, in fact, even dinners with our whole family at the dining room table was an unfamiliar phenomenon. Typically my brother, mother and I all ate dinner before my father ever returned home due to his demanding work hours. This was a definite exception.

It was an awkward moment. Suddenly our dining room felt more like a museum than a place of family comfort. I sat in a chair swinging my legs underneath the chair, uncertain of how I should even behave in such a moment. I had been having a good day hiding in my room playing records of musicals of the past, fantasizing the character lives and living in my own world of imagination. But now, I felt something was different. Being a Navy brat, I had the feeling that I was about to be told of a new move, since they were pretty consistent in my life.

I looked to my mother, that was when I noticed the redness in her eyes. She had been crying. I looked to my father. He had a stern face, but not like when he was mad and his bottom lip came out, this was one of seriousness but mixed with a dread and sadness. My brother kicked me in annoyance. We could barely sit this close without one of us antagonizing the other. I glared back at him showing my disdain.

My mother snapped her fingers to capture our attention. She then spoke softly in the same soft tone she did when she wanted us to hear her after we just received a punishment and wanted us to understand why, "We have something to share with you."

Again, unable to grasp the complexity or seriousness of the situation, my brother and I exchanged kicks under the table with me getting a prime dig to his calf. I saw him wince and felt a moment of glory. Our under the table wrestling was met with silence. We sensed the tension, and neither really wished to admit the dread we suddenly felt.

My father's lip started to come out, and we both composed ourselves fearing words of reprimand.

"Your father and I are getting a divorce." Mother said in hesitant words.

My feet suddenly felt like dead weights instead of missiles aimed for my brother's legs. Without even looking to him, I could sense he had the same sudden comprehension of our new reality.

The words just flowed out of both of my parent's mouth at that point. I couldn't even tell you who said what or what was said. Once that initial word divorce came out, I was suddenly a student in Charlie Brown's class hearing his teacher saying a mix of "mwha mwha mwha mwha mwha...pack your things...mwha mwha mwha...stay with Gonnie..." The words seemed to go on, but I didn't absorb anything as I sat their numb. I never heard my parent's fight. We were a happy family. This was what happened to other family's not ours. They were talking, but I didn't hear them. I only heard my own thoughts of confusion and disbelief.

I was suddenly jolted by another kick from my brother. For once it wasn't out of annoyance but to jolt me to reality. My mother was looking at me and repeating her last statement. "Now go pack up a few things."

My brother and I slowly headed down the hallway to our bedrooms, not even exchanging the nasty looks we typically did. The wind had been taken out of each of us, and neither dared to look at the other to show we didn't know how to handle the news we had been given. My brother and I never really got along, but at this moment I kept looking at his back hoping he would turn around and give me a look of encouragement. He kept walking forward.

I went into my room and started putting a few outfits and a few toys into my bag. I looked around my room and didn't know how I could pack up my life in the one suitcase I was given. How could I possibly choose what belongings meant most when they all were a part of me. I had my doll collection, and horse collection perfectly poised on the shelf each placed in such a manner which none showed greater glory over the other. I always wanted to make sure no toy felt less loved than another. I even rotated the stuffed animals I slept with at night. Suddenly I had to pick. In a moment I had to fit my life within a suitcase.

My mother came into my room and assured me that the rest of my belongings would join me eventually that I would have all of my belongings again. As comforting as her voice was, that didn't comfort me. It wouldn't be here. It wouldn't be in my room with daisy's on the wall, with the pretend stage that I performed in front of. I looked at her and asked her why.

She returned my look with a teary eyed face, and told me people just change.

I wanted to tell my friends I was leaving, but was told I couldn't. I was leaving...and just leaving. I couldn't tell my friends, couldn't say goodbye to anyone. I was not permitted to call any friend or exchange addresses like I had always done when we moved before. I was denied the friendship departing hug I always shared when I had moved anytime before. I felt like I was suddenly one of those kids in a movie that has to be in the witness protection program, but without anyone in my family committing a crime other than divorce.

My brother and I packed up and my mother gathered her bags and we headed to the airport.

Usually the airport is an exciting place for a child. However I felt none of that excitement. The constant flow of people around me felt like a blur. A whole world of people traveling from one place to another escaped me completely. My brother who typically tormented me in one way or another ignored me so much he too was a blur.

We found three seats we could sit in. They were like all airport chairs at the time, hard, white, and reminding me of cut out eggs. We sat there. All silent. I began to dream that I was one of the characters in the books I read. This made more sense with one of my book characters than me. Playing in my room I always pretended my bed was my stage and would pretend like I was other people, but this time I wasn't on my bed, and a simple knock on my door wouldn't return me to my reality.

Suddenly my father appeared. He got on his knees before my mother begging her to return home with him.I had never seen my father cry before this moment. Tears were falling down his cheeks. I saw a vulnerable dad which I had never seen. My dad was a strong military officer and always showed that face. My mother sat there turning her head aside several times stiffining up with determination. I saw an emotional exchange I had never seen before between my parents, and one I knew should be theirs and theirs alone. I moved away a feeling invasive and feeling I was witnessing something I shouldn't. My dad cried, and then my mom cried. I saw a collection of emotions...anger, sadness, love, regret, and hopefulness.

My parents then called my brother and I together. They embraced us and told us we were going back home. They told us all was okay again.

We were then told we were not to tell anyone this happened. This did not happen. I looked at them with a face of question, and my mother confirmed that we were not to ever tell anyone this happened.

I was happy with the resolution, so I agreed.

We went home and pretended like it never happened.

Forget the first most traumatic event in your life and never tell a soul and never discuss it again. It never happened. I think that was the day innocence truly left my life. I was 10, and it never happened.