English Class

I'm taking an English creative writing class this quarter because, well, what the hell right? Why the fuck not. Well I've quickly come to the conclusion as I read more and more peer drafts that my future in writing... Is so much more likely than theirs...

Okay, okay, that's a little harsh. There are lots of factors that make or break a writer. Skill is only one. Especially since this is just a class. People are learning and if they are anything like me they aren't trying very hard. And some of the students are good. If maybe a little canned and prescribed. But, hey, so am I at times. It's hard finding your voice. That's why this is here, this blog.

But seriously. I'm going to confess something to you. I have a huge complex with English classes. My mom always said when I sent her mixed messages that I was making her schizophrenic. Well, I feel like that with English classes. Or at least I felt like that with high school English---but I guess being almost twenty I should move past high school, eh?

Well in high school I basically hated English about as much as I loved it, which was, as it turned out, a lot. I loved reading and writing but if I even so much as glanced at another student's better grade I felt like hurling. If I failed a history test that everyone else aced I shrugged it off with a better luck next time attitude. But with English I felt the competition boiling under my skin.

It only got worse as high school progressed and I masochistically (am I using that word right? ah, who the hell knows/cares) registered for higher English classes. I remember being in Junior year loving my class (Oh, Charla) but CRYING (being 16 was hard) when I thought I couldn't compete with the other honors students (who I realize are all facebook friends with me and could very well be reading this, and, undoubtedly judging me for my use of masochistically). Senior year was no better. I could actually feel myself starting to hate English and hate Mrs. Mayer (real name, that's how strongly I feel) and hate the other bitches in my AP English class (who, yes, are also facebook friends with me and probably are busy unfriending me at this point). Right around the time their college acceptance letters started flooding in from Harvard, Stanford, Cal, and other high brow upper educational establishments, I started getting my rejection letters...

But hey. Now I am at the University of Washington, I'm a Sociology major, I have a social life up the fucking wazoo, I am in a residence hall leadership position (yay for learning how to prepare a funding proposal this weekend), I am the officer of a school organization that gets more and more well known by the day, I write a fucking blog, and finally, I may be the best writer in my English class.

And I give no credit to Mrs. Mayer. (Though I give hella props to Charla).

Maybe I'm being unfair. Maybe I shouldn't be so harsh to my fellow classmates and maybe I should give credit to Mrs. Mayer.

To my classmates at the UW: I'm sorry if I sound harsh. Maybe I should sugar coat it for y'all. But here's the dealio honeys. No one sugar coated it for me. You either write or you don't. And you either write good or you don't. If you can get better, if you can take a class and improve, that's great. But know that good writing is all relative. Relative to my AP 'peers' I was nuthin'. And relative to published writers I'm the shadow of nuthin'. But someday maybe I'll be something. Something to someone. Maybe what I have to say on the page will touch someone.

To Mrs. Mayer: I don't want you to be reading this. At least not yet. Maybe someday. If, somehow, it does get back to you, know this: you are a foster-er of young hearts. You are a gardener of young souls, do not prune haphazardly. We are the angels of a new generation, and you are the patron saint of shitting on our prayers. You're criticism, it should push us forward not hold us back. Ready students for what's ahead, don't tell us not to step forth.

In conclusion, I have no conclusion, because I'm a mediocre blogger. The end.

Mrs. Mayer would probably give me a 4/9 for this, because that's what she always gave me.