Animosity

The energy in Tuesday night's class was absolutely suffocating. Walking into a seating chart with no explanation seemed to raise suspicions as to what the problem could be that we had to be assigned where to sit. The confusion over when assignments were due caused quite a bit of unease between some students and definitely Dr. Panning, and then the conversation in regards to the lack of responses, the party invitation being pulled... not to say anyone was in the wrong, but holy shit, you could cut the animosity in that room with a butter knife.

I'll be the first to admit that I haven't commented on pretty much anything all semester on the blogs. I am not going to make angry excuses, or say it was because I haven't been getting comments myself (although, if you scroll down a bit, you'll notice that I've pretty much been writing for myself this entire semester seeing as though there's no proof of anyone reading my stuff) but I am feeling a bit of that frustration in terms of the class not really being what it was initially meant to be. I think Dr. Panning set it up beautifully so that we could have this cool, experimental and modern experience, and correct me if I'm wrong, but I really feel as though we just weren't ready to handle it. And it fell apart at the seams.

I share Duane's frustration in the lack of response. Not only in a lack of blog comments, but in the returned manuscripts during the workshop even more so. I mean, come on, if you're going to mark up my essay during class, cool, but could you PLEASE not insult my intelligence by writing verbatim what someone else said during the workshop?! I take my own notes, I don't need 13 copies of the same thing repeated. I would honestly rather receive nothing than a rushed, scribbled response that's not even your own original thought.


And really? Doodling all over my essay? Really?


I don't know, I guess this rant really isn't going anywhere, but I definitely have lost motivation in this class, which is horribly disappointing due to how unbelievably excited I was the first few weeks. I would have loved to see this blossom into what it was originally supposed to be, and I wish that all of us (myself included!!!) had taken the time and energy to use the tools supplied to us to make it be super rad. But more so than anything, the animosity in the classroom was toxic, and contagious, and I really hope we're able to shake that off before next week, because man.... that was brutal...

Kiss the Stars for Me - WORKSHOP ESSAY

My dearest Kieran,

I need to begin this letter by apologizing for how long it has been since my last. I could come up with a child-friendly excuse to spare your feelings, but since you would be turning 9 this coming summer, probably around late July, I suppose I can be honest in saying to such a big boy that it’s just getting harder and harder to come up with things to write about. Part of me feels like I should keep you updated on the goings-on of your family, the life you never got to live but on the other hand, I feel like it’s got to make things harder on you to hear all about it but not ever be able to experience it… to never know the joys of life, the happiness and any sorrows I couldn’t protect you from, even to know the sound of your mother’s voice. Sometimes I stop mid-letter to you, considering how crazy I am for bleeding my soul onto a page that will never be read, but that thought makes me keep writing. I want to believe you can hear me, somehow.

            I know I told you in the last letter that I would update you on your father, and there’s no easy way to say this sweetheart, but I have nothing to report. I’ve been trying desperately to find him, but I think he’s back in Maryland doing things you can’t know about until you’re much older. I can’t tell you how he is without lying to you, and I would never lie to you, angel. I can tell you all the things I’ve told you before, if you’d like to hear them again. I hope they make you smile…

            Your daddy loved you very much the minute I told him about you. He cried, a very happy cry, and kissed your mommy lots. After that night, he kissed you through my belly and talked to you all the time. He chose your name within days and I fell in love with it – Kieran Lee VanKirk. Just like daddy’s name, but Kieran instead of Steven. I hope you like it. Your daddy was very, very tall with blond hair and the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. I ask myself every day if your eyes would’ve been brown like mommy’s or a stunning shade of steel and clouds like daddy’s, or some smooth, exotic in between. Regardless of what the outcome, I know you would’ve been handsome like your daddy. I wish I could find him for you, baby boy, and I promise I’ll keep trying, and hopefully he’ll write you himself someday soon. I just hope you’re not mad at me for losing him… like I lost you…

            I still haven’t decided if I should tell you about your baby brother in these letters, again, I don’t want to make you jealous. I want to keep you involved in the family though, and I wish you could tell me if I’m making you upset. Phoenix was a pirate for Halloween this year, and went trick or treating for the very first time. I really wish you could’ve been with us; you would’ve had a great time. I can see you holding your baby brother’s hand as you take him from door to door – I think you would love being a big brother. Although, if things had worked out differently, and you had been born and I had been able to keep your daddy out of trouble, who knows if I would’ve met Phoenix’s daddy and had him when I did, so I guess talking about him is silly.

            I’m starting to get a little upset angel, which means you might be too, so I should probably wrap this up. I have to end this the same way I always do, and please don’t cry sweetheart, but I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I lost you. I don’t know if I just wasn’t strong enough, or if it was your daddy’s fault for making me too upset, but I was just so young, angel. So very young. And I promise I tried my hardest to hold on, I did. But after I got the phone call telling me your daddy wasn’t coming home for a really long time, and after hours of waiting and worrying and crying and then that phone call in the middle of the night when I should’ve been sleeping, there was nothing I could do to keep the red from flowing over and ruining the white of my sheets. I know you don’t know what that means, angel, but that’s how I lost you. And I cried. I still cry over you, angel.  I even buried the sheets and made a cross out of sticks so I would always know where to find you.

            I will put this letter in the box under the bed with all the others I’ve written you in the past 9 years, and sometimes when I sleep at night I imagine that you sneak in, open the box, and read all the letters. That thought gives me hope that you know just how much I love you.

            Just please know baby boy that I loved you from the minute I knew of you, and I loved you even more once you were gone. I loved you so much I just knew you were a boy, without even having to find out. If I were older, stronger, I promise I would’ve been good to you, angel. I would have done everything I could to make you happy, and keep you safe and warm. But all I can hope now is that wherever you are, up high in the sky with the clouds and the moon and the stars, that you’re happy. And warm. And hopefully you can see me sitting here with tears in my eyes as I write to you the words I wasn’t ever able to say.

           

            Don’t forget to kiss the stars for me.

Love Always,

Mommy