April 17, 2017
comedy, cure, daughter, Diagnosis, doctor, family, fitting in, friend, humor, incurable, mother, poem, poetry, see, Sharon Olds, sight, talk
By the time I was six months old, she knew something
was wrong with me. I got looks on my face
she had not seen on any child
in the family, or the extended family,
or the neighborhood. My mother took me in
to the pediatrician with the kind hands,
a doctor with a name like a suit size for a wheel:
Hub Long. My mom did not tell him
what she thought in truth, that I was Possessed.
It was just these strange looks on my face—
he held me, and conversed with me,
chatting as one does with a baby, and my mother
said, She’s doing it now! Look!
She’s doing it now! and the doctor said,
What your daughter has
is called a sense
of humor. Ohhh, she said, and took me
back to the house where that sense would be tested
and found to be incurable.
“Diagnosis” by Sharon Olds, from One Secret Thing. © Random House, Inc., 2009.
November 14, 2015
empathy, humor, insight, judgement, knowledge, Life, work
atrocities, barista, bookstore, candy maker, candy making, careers, college, creative non-fiction, determination, entry level jobs, Everclear, housecleaning, humor, job, job seeker, knowledge, laugh, life, Melanie Maheu, Nsphire, swingers
“First Job Atrocities” By Melanie Maheu.
My first job was my dream job. Sincerely. I worked in a book store coffee shop, and up until that point, it was the only thing I really wanted to do. I remember going to grab triple-venti-five-pump-no-whip caramel macchiatos with my high school buddies, and as I watched the baristas pass the cups and dump the shots, I thought, “That’s it! That’s what I want to do!” The kids behind the counter were always so swank and sassy. They usually had a piercing or ten and tattoos on their arms that said, “I’m young and trendy and I don’t need your 9 to 5” (I mean, the tats didn’t literally say that, but you get it). Well, I knew I was destined for swankiness and sassiness too. At one point, I thought seriously about dropping out of college, because I felt so formidable behind that counter. Until my roommates started showing up at night to shout at me as I mopped the floors. I remember an elderly man approaching me as I scrubbed up some days-old-gum and saying, “Just laugh in their face when they ask to borrow $20.” Well, old man, they didn’t need my $20, they were on their parents’ dime. And, come to think of it, I didn’t need it either. Once I realized how much Everclear and experimentation I was missing out on, I called in sick and never came back. Responsibility at its finest. Read the rest on Insphire