I'm not drunk or delirious. I know it's not Friday. There's something relieving about failing at something before it even gets off the ground- how much worse could this attempt at blogging get by launching my Friday blog idea on a Saturday? A lot worse- just to warn you, but let's maintain some hope.
I love to write. I volunteer to research and crunch numbers with the end goal of typing up an essay just because I enjoy playing with words. I assign myself research papers. I'm currently working on: the benefits of teaching Algebra 1 with a pervasive use of graphing calculators. It's ok- I have excitement enough for the both of us. My point is I want to do something that forces me to write recreationally at least once a week. So here is my proposal:
Every Friday I'm going to assign myself (and a brave blog partner? volunteers?) a topic- sometimes serious, sometimes frivolous, sometimes comedic, sometimes downright depressing- and will respond with a list of my top five things. I'm not promising amazing writing. I'm not even promising it will be remotely entertaining. But I want to write, and if you're bored and want to read then, hi!
Five Things Friday: My Favorite Firsts
1. Mrs. King told me in elementary school that she picked her books based on the first line. When I would write my stories, I would try extremely hard to write the most amazing first line in the northern hemisphere. I remember two of them:
It started with fire and broken glass.
There was blood everywhere.
Apparently I was a fan of shock value.
The best first lines are ones that move like poetry but sprout a million questions. My favorite first line of any book is from One Hundred Years of Solitude, by Gabriel Garcia Marquez:
Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendia was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice.
[insert heart eyes and book addiction]. I think it's the nostalgia in the face of impending tragedy that captured me completely.
2. The first and only time I was able to lift one eyebrow was when I bit into this gross pork my mom made. I had always wanted to acquire this skill and was extremely jealous of everyone that could do it. I put a disgusting piece of pork on my silver fork, bit into it gingerly with my front teeth, and looked over at my annoying sister. I felt the skin between my brows do something that felt like a hypnotic swirl. My sister started laughing. I'm still upset that I did not pay close enough attention to how I did it and have yet to repeat it. I'm still jealous and in awe when I see someone do it.
3. The first morning I woke up at college I was in a hall of all freshman girls. We all must have woken up with the same jarring realization that we weren't home, that we had forced ourselves into this new life phase, and that we were surrounded by people who weren't required to even tolerate us. In an uncanny act of unspoken soul healing, every one of us put on Dixie Chick's Wide Open Spaces. Every time I hear that song and album, I think back to that warm and shaky morning.
4. The first day of my first year of teaching was the scariest day of my life. I survived just as I imagine a prison inmate survives his/her first day behind bars: literally one minute at a time. That, and telling myself it couldn't last forever. Now, when I'm faced with what's sure to be an unpleasant experience, I tell myself it surely can't be as terrifying as that day.
5. The first time I rode a bike without training wheels I ignored my dad, biked across the road into a church graveyard, and proceeded to go so fast I couldn't stop myself from crashing into a grave stone. I got a blood blister the size of Texas but completely fell in love with riding bike.
Love,
A
No comments:
Post a Comment