Days Like These, or, You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means*
Seven classes in and we’re old hacks now, falling into our paces easily, into our clusters during break, some of us inevitably falling into each others beds… Some of us inevitably finding ourselves reeeeeally gee-dee frustrated.
I feel like total dog poop.
Dog poop that’s been sitting outside in this blistering sun which cooks us all morning and all afternoon in the blasted classroom while we sweat under the lights in our costumes. I feel like that moist gleaming dog poop fly heaven that sticks to your shoe like glue if you’re so obliviously unfortunate as to sink right into it.
I am forgetting what it is to have fun in this room. Concerned about ‘getting it right’, as if there was one to get. Blindly moving around in space with no sense of what has gone before, what I know, who I am. I don’t know who I am anymore. Not up there I don’t. I am nothing. I am blocked impulses and nervous smiles and ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod whaaaaatdoooooIIIIIIIIdoooooooooooooo – until the day is done or we are outside on break, during lunch. Then I can be the clown.
That’s something to think about. That I am more comfortable pretending that I Me am more clown and costumed in my outside life than I am when I stand wearing a ridiculous pink outfit and horrible blond braided wig and red clown nose. There I am frozen boring horribly embarrassed me.
But, it’s not so bad. Really. Not reelie.
Each day one, maybe two of us, has some sort of breakthrough. But each day we all bomb, finding ourselves standing up there staring like complete drooling empty melon’d idiotes as this monstrous ogre of a man beats his drum and cackles as he comes up with a seemingly endless stream of dagger pointed jabs to the soul.
There is a lining though. There always is. There has to be.
This horrible man. He’s not really horrible. He can giggle like a school girl and when he smiles (sing it Louis) the whole world smiles too.
This horrible man is an enormous child who wants to play and he’s waiting for us idiotes to figure it out. To join in with him and here I am worried about ‘doing it right’.
I like playing games, the morning sessions have been fantastic, but when clown starts up in the afternoon something is stopping me. Something. Perhaps maybe years of trying to fit in, to have friends, to do things the way it seems I’m supposed to do them so I don’t get the spotlight. So I don’t get pulled from the crowd, singled out and mocked. Pelted with rotting food and leftover lunch. Woah, I started that sentence as a joke, thinking pillories and stocks but, wouldn’t you know it, it is an experience I have personally had the pleasure (ironic ‘hah’) of experiencing. Yuck, I didn’t mean to bring this up. Enough, I’m not even going to say that I’ll tell you the story though, if you know me, it’s probably safe to say that I’ll tell just about any story. If you’re really curious figure out what high school I went to and when I was in grade nine then look through the yearbook for the pictorial humiliation
What I mean is that I have for years felt like I need to blend in with the normal people. The ones who understand the rules of the game. Experience has shown that, in real life, I often don’t understand the rules of the game.
Ah, but my leetel one, says the Philip in my brain, you deedunt lessen to me today. Deed you. NO. YOU DID NOT. It’s not ee zee to work withew. No ta tall. Not. At. All. Deed I say that you ewe eww ewe you had to undeurstande. I deed not! La, you ewe are aktor it iz knot eemportante that ewe eww uuuuu undeurstande but thawt heeu deeskoverrr, to undeurstande iz for eedeeotes.
So, says I.
La, says the Philip in my head.
do re mi ha ha
Find your pleasure, he says
My pleasure, says I
To enter on to a stage.
To show you my beauty.
To make you laugh.
Google search “define pleasure” PLEAS·URE /ˈpleZHər/
Noun: A feeling of happy satisfatcion and enjoyment:
“she smiled with pleasure at being praised.
Adjective: Used or intended for entertainment
Verb: Give sexual enjoyment or satisfaction to
Google search “define plaisir” PLAISIR
Plaisir is a commune in the Yvelines department…..
*bonus points to Kate for getting that reference.