I spent all day Saturday in a writing workshop to figure out if I want to do anything besides blog and bartend. As noble as both of those are. The outcome is inconclusive, although I have a much better idea of what I need to do if I want to make more friends.
What I’ve accomplished since then is I went to Target, I cleaned my desk and I’m about to clean my closet.
Overall the workshop was wonderful, except at hour four when the teacher spreads magazine clippings on the floor and tells us to pick seven. My heart sinks. If she thinks I’m going to create something that involves anything other than typing… I glance around in despair and head to the bathroom. The teacher says,
“Now I need everyone to get out your poster boards.”
The prerequisites for the workshop were sticky notes and a poster board 16 x 20. At my nearest arts and crafts store which I’ve been to never, the 20 x 30 foam boards were on sale for $2. I bought one figuring I’d just cut it.
I stand in my kitchen staring at the board, desiring to cut it in something resembling a straight line and knowing that ever since my parents’ parent-teacher conference in pre-school, I’ve never been able to do this.
I start to cut the board, it rips in several directions. I reject the scissors in favor of a steak knife. I stab at the board in an almost straight line and bend it back and forth like a perforated piece of paper. This works well enough and I got to hurt the board.
In the workshop, I pull out my board and stare at it’s ragged edge. The woman next to me pulls out a similar looking foam board with a more ragged edge than mine. She sighs,
“I tried to cut it, but that didn’t work so I took a knife to it.”
A woman across the room from us holds up her board with a ragged edge. She exclaims,
“I did the same thing!”