Last Hurrah

Tonight marks the end of my freedom. As of tomorrow, my soul belongs to the local middle school where I am conducting my student teaching. From now until May,  I will be solely responsible for the literary growth and development of ninety giggly sixth graders. This not only includes teaching, but lesson planning, grading, and behavior management strategies. Basically, for the next three months I will have no time for socializing or  guilty pleasures. This of course, is not an ideal situation, but reality. In realizing this dark truth,  I did what any sensible person would do before committing their final semester to isolation, I went out with a bang.

I do not really consider Monday or Tuesday as part of my big bang series. Over the course of these two days I frantically scrambled to finish my assignments and job applications. I went to several meetings and they were boring. I drew a Harry Potter puppet on my left hand during one of the meetings. It was very immature, but it kept me entertained. I tried LJ's vegan chili with my good friend Amanda and rehearsed for a presentation. I played a game of inner tube water polo and my team won. Like I said, not too exciting, but overall pleasant.

Wednesday was by far my most rebellious day this week. After nailing my presentation and receiving excellent feedback by my professor, who slept during most of the period, I continued on with my fabulous day. I made hot cocoa with marshmallows. While I sipped my chocolate drink, I dedicated time to my writing career, a whole hour in fact. I mediated, wrote a numbered list one to ten, and engaged in my method. I wrote in big, perfect letters, slowing the hand and mind. It was therapeutic and immensely enjoyable. I finished my method and expanded the story.

That night, I went to a meeting regarding discrimination on my campus. I listened to the stories and experiences of students affected by the latest racial hate crime and I shared my own. In fact, I stuck it to the administration and called them out for their wrong doings. I felt like a hippie, it was liberating. If only the balding WASPs knew that while I was deliberately defying their rule, I had hidden in my possession a bottle of wine, a candle, lighter, and bottle opener. Items that are illegal both on and off campus.

From here, I trekked to the secret loft for my writing group. We lit my candles and drank the wine straight from the bottle. We shared poetry and prose. We ranted and laughed hysterically until we braved the icy winds and crawled into bed.

Thursday was another exceptional  day. After a full day spent teaching, I went to a poetry reading at my local theater. Elizabeth Bradfield and Sean Hill performed beautifully. English-y people always make everything sound beautiful. They speak from the diaphragm and back of the throat. Their voices are deep, sexy, and raspy. Literary artists always seem to speak in prose no matter the content. They can say "fucking douchebag"and make it sound whimsical. I was utterly amazed.

Friday was gray and overcast. After attending my final class, I retreated back home to my apartment. I watched the snow flurries outside my window and snuggled up in the popazon chair. I read Betty Smith's "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn" and took a nap. After a lazy afternoon, I met up with my friend Yui. We ate ice cream and homemade bread. We chatted for hours about life and its philosophies. I enjoyed every minute. I came home around ten and wrote a rap about sorority life on campus. I put on sunglasses and an over-sized hoodie and performed the number for my roommates. We laughed until the early morning hours.

Saturday was a day of adventure. I drove to little town with my friend Mary. We took the winding roads through pine trees and down to the beach. We window shopped in quaint boutiques and found matching sundresses neither one of us could afford. We wanted to model them, but were to lazy to remove our winter layers to shimmy into the floral print. We wandered into other random shops and rubbed free lotion on our hands. We left smelling like old women, flowers, and baby powder. We ate scrambled eggs at Ida Red's and drank fresh OJ, pulp and all. With bellies full we ventured over to the local coffee joint. It was a cute green house with garden seating. I will be making future visits to this place and spend lazy afternoons here reading and writing. On our way back to the car we stopped in a touristy shop, one where white shirts turn to color in the sunshine. There we met Steve, a very friendly sales associate. He gave us each a free plastic ring that changed to fuchsia in the sunshine. He said it was for Valentine's Day. Steve energized my day. When I go back to little town for coffee, I will make sure I visit him as well.

After little town, I came back to my own city. Not ready to end the day, I went on my own adventure. I strolled down the cobbled streets and popped in and out of the various art galleries. I viewed beautiful landscapes and portraits by people who live in my area. These works of art used a variety of materials including Happy Meal toys, thread, and watercolors. I felt sophisticated and intelligent viewing the galleries since I was the youngest person there. I didn't necessarily understand the art, but it felt good trying.

Sunday was a perfect sabbath. I went snowshoeing on the beach with Dani. We were like explorers surveying Antarctica, testing our limits on the ice. We breathed heavy hiking against the wind. Fresh air is good for the soul. After a morning spent in the sun, I went to LJ's for chili. I read Abagail Thomas and chatted with Charity. We went to Lubbers and looked through boxes of orphaned books. When the lights turned off, we ran down the hallways and danced to motion them back to life. Back in my apartment we shared our poems and stories. We played the piano, sang, and composed a Harry Potter rap. We are still in the process of revising it. Later in the evenings our bellies grumbled. We drove to Mi Favorita grocery store and ordered tacos and Pepsi from the deli counter. We love the store and its authentic scent. We breathed it in like incense and told the owner how much we adored the store. She smiled as she handed over our bulging bags. In Charity's living room, we listened to the howling wind and devoured our meal. We licked our fingers clean.

Now, I am sitting in my pajamas and reflecting on my week.  While it was not  crazy or overly rambunctious, it was ideal and I enjoyed every minute of it. I believe I went out with a bang.