Mario Cantone is a twat
*disclaimer: the subject has absolutely nothing to do with the entry, so don't get all pissed off that I don't even mention Mr. Cantone at the end of this.*
Last night I had my last class as an undergraduate. The experience didn't get very surreal until the end. As previously mentioned, we were doing five-minute/1,000 word readings of our work. There were 23 of us, working out to 115 minutes of reading…a perfect fit for our 150 minute class. Mine was about 4 and 1/2 minutes. I knew that I needed to keep it on schedule since I was third to speak. My voice, of course, warbled and spit kept flying out of my mouth. I stuttered and stumbled and generally made an ass out of myself. I read two rather dry sections of my piece and I don't think my fellow students thought it was as funny as I did. Guess I need to polish up on that humor. Oh well.
There were a chunk of people in the middle who read way too much, under the delusion that if they didn't read enough of it then it wouldn't make sense. A few people read their profiles which were just too long at 2,000 words. I think they thought that if they just read quickly they could fit it all in. They couldn't. So not only were they reading to fast to be understood they took too long as well. One kid read his profile of this guy who owns a recording studio in Sharon, PA. He spent a few years in the Peace Corps but this kid kept pronouncing it Peace Corpse. It was so annoying. I can distinctly remember a spelling lesson with Mrs. Dolan in fifth grade and going over the differences between core, corps, and corpse.
Anyway, a lot of the pieces were really well done. GWIDPL added a nice Bobby Sumgum/Me-love-you-long-time accent to her reading of the profile she did of a sushi chef. Yeah, that was a nice moment for race relations.
Another girl presented her immersion of a coffee shop as a choreographed musical. So, she sang at a few intervals throughout her reading. That was a little odd but it worked. I was impressed by how much her writing had improved since we workshopped her profile.
Toward the end of class, as my mind started to wander, I started taking in all of the scents and sounds of an evening class at the Cathedral of Learning. Sirens and busses roared past outside and students played the last frisbee match of the day on the lawn. Inside, under the buzz of fluorescent lights, 23 aspiring young writers laid their guts out on the podium for their colleagues to judge. I've had countless classes in that building, and quite a few in that particular classroom alone. I don't think it ever occurred to me that I might be pursuing a career as a writer. Now I really want it. Tomorrow I have to go back down to Pitt to get measured for my gown and stuff. That should be fun. Then in another week and a half I'll be graduated. Very weird.
Now, with school behind me, I find that I have a lot more energy. I feel ready to get out and do stuff. I might go to Kelly's (the bar) with the boyfriend tonight. I haven't been there yet so I'm looking forward to it. Stacey proposed a weekend trip down to Richmond at the end of May. Hopefully, I'll be able to go, provided that she doesn't have plans to de-program me of my Pittsburgh pride.
ehhhhhhh, what else. I can't think. I'm hungry today. Argh.
