Stalkers and Vessels
Okay, I admit that today I cannot think of anything specific to write about. This one could get ugly. I’m trying not to become alarmed that this has happened on the 8th day of this challenge, hoping it’s just because I haven’t slept well. I know I could write this post later today, but I also know the burden that places on the day. The sense that something is stalking me, even half-heartedly, is not what I need at this moment.
Really, what would the Slice 2012 Challenge look like as a stalker? It would not be large, hulking, or dressed in dark clothes and a ski mask. And it certainly wouldn’t hide in the shadows, watching me and recording my every move. No, Slice 2012 would be wearing tasteful, modern separates with a contrasting scarf and stylish, classroom-worthy footwear. Slice would try to walk alongside me rather than following or watching me. She’d be gently reminding me that the children standing at their lockers might make good subject matter. That I could focus on the way that they all wear North Face jackets and Ugg boots in a rainbow of colors and styles to show their individuality. Or that I could mention the way they volunteered to help me make posters about figurative language and left a minefield of paper shrapnel in their wake, stepping over it in their rush to get out the door. Slice would be supportive, carrying an i-Pad and a sense of purpose with her, she’d chuckle supportively at my lame humor attempts. She might even suggest I have another cup of coffee, or more likely, green tea while she got one of my classes going on their writing workshop.
Yes, I can see it now, Slice and I would become fast friends. I’d take her to the Bookloft and shop the crammed shelves with her, filling up our cloth sacks with books for the classroom and home. We’d argue with, and about, the staff recommendation cards and if we were feeling naughty, we might replace a few of them with recommendation cards of our own. I’d dare Slice to book talk the surly teen with the multiple piercings and blue hair streaks. I’d wager lunch on whether on not he purchased the book she recommended to him. Of course she would persuade him, and in the process, she’d make him feel understood and known. We’d lunch together, and Slice would choose a healthy and nourishing meal but I would be able to talk her into ordering both the cheese cake AND a glass of wine.
But alas, Slice doesn’t walk the world with me, Slice lives in all of us. So instead of waiting for her to come and help me, I try out a writing technique I’ve used with my classes to see if it gets me thinking. I randomly open a book and point to a word without looking to give my writing some focus. I hit upon the word: vessels. Ugh, maybe next slice.