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2011-12-06

Guitar Essay Levels Up

Earlier today I was confronted with a particularly frustrating set of circumstances.

Let me start from the beginning.

Last week, my COM 359 lecturer assigns the class a 500-word essay on an inanimate, or non-talking object. Meaning, it can be a baby or a pet. She said that previous students wrote about various things, including a guitar.

It hit me--my red guitar. I'll write about that. I've got plenty to say.

A day or two later, I sit down in front of a big ol' Mac in Odegaard Library's  computer lab, and bang out over 1,000 words. It was quick, fluid, and I had a great time writing it. It was therapeutic, even, writing about all my past experiences over the 10 years I've owned the thing. I was sure I had gold on my hands, and relief flooded over me. I knew that after a couple editing sessions that baby was going to look awesome.

Fast forward to last night, in class. It's the last week of fall quarter this week at UW, which is cool, but there's lots of work to do. Our final project is to present our blog to the class. I had been looking forward to presenting my blog for a good few weeks, but when it came time to actually present it, I was disappointingly rushed. In the eight minutes allotted, there wasn't time to talk about all that I wanted to talk about. I felt cheated.

The format of the presentations was such that we'd present our blogs, and then read a little bit of the inanimate object story. It's due on Wed, but everybody had drafts or final copies ready for recitation. When it came time to read mine, the lecturer asked, "But where's your guitar?"

I was stunned, and got a little hot in the face. It dawned on me that the essay I'd felt so cocksure about was not what the lecturer was looking for. The assignment is to write about the object, not myself.

"It's all about me, isn't it?" I asked. She nodded. She could see my mood, I just know it. The whole class could, try as I might to hide it. It was there, in plain sight, on the projector for all my classmates to see--I WROTE THE ESSAY WRONG.

'What are you, stupid?' my mind kept asking me. 'Can't you understand a simple assignment? And here you thought you were a good writer.'

Embarrassing.

I could tell everyone liked my blog and essay, though. That did feel good.

It was a kick in the balls to learn that my essay wasn't good enough, that I'd have to re-write it, and that I didn't know what I was going to write, Also, my pride was hurt. I couldn't help it; couldn't shake off the shame.

I went straight to the library, sat down in a little cubicle desk, and typed out 180 words of Inanimate Object Essay V2. It was getting late by then, so I went home.

Fast forward to this morning.

Stress. A new stress. Finding myself trying to reconcile letting my tired, needy kids play alone while I worked on my paper. It was so boring, what I was typing, and I was uninterested, over-caffeinated, and hurried.

Trudging thru, suddenly I found myself at 229 words. 'Just get to 250,' I told myself. More trudging. Suddenly, I found myself at ...

447 words? Fuck, I'm almost done!

LIGHT IN THE CLOUDS OPENS UP COMBINED WITH HEAVENLY CHOIR

Sweet. Now the 300-word essay I've got to write for Spanish 101 by Thursday, that I haven't started yet, seems less daunting.

Finding myself in the position of stressed-student-dad was uncomfortable, but through hella diligence, I got more done than I thought I would.

Sometimes you have to just put on your blinders and run.

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