*Beep Beep*
There goes my alarm, flying off my sheet and pumped to get my day started. For some reason I woke up energized. I still don't want to talk to anyone, but I am ready to be productive.
I showered and got all dolled up for the occasion.
Today is the first day of High School for my sister, and though we are miles apart, it's a great feeling.
Separate and part from that, today is the day when I submit my novel for review. The novel I have been writing all year in class.
It's not like it's getting optioned off, yet, but the nerves are real.
Instructor Harris has been nagging me about submitting my work for review. I really believe he reads my articles twice when I submit them, because he remembers everything I write.
My first semester taking his class I vaguely wrote, I want to write books that are adapted into movies. He commented on my work saying, "Write a story worth reading, and I promise you won't have to worry about adaptation."
The following day I went to his office hour to talk about his comment. Not voluntarily, he tricked me by telling me he got a message from the principal.
After ten minutes in, he told me what he really wanted to say.
"In case you were wondering about my comment, what I mean is, your goal to write books that are adapted into movies may seem audacious because of statistics, but if it's worth it, all that will be thrown out the window. You will have so many offers to adapt, you won't have the capacity to accommodate all. Just keep writing, and I hope am around to see it all unfold."
I surely wasn't wondering about his comment, but it was so motivating to have someone believe in me and not crush my dreams. To this day, I cannot think about this without getting emotional.
Partly because I still attend the same school and he teaches me writing classes a few times a week, so I can never get away from him. He is so committed to my goals, I have never seen anything like this.
Fast forward two years later, I started and completed this novel that he will be reviewing to find out if I have been listening to him and also, if he needs to quit teaching and work with me full time.
Am kidding about that, I cannot take another second with Instructor Harris. He is such a perfectionist. Which is great for writing, but it's bad for life and he doesn't have a balance.
The book is sixty pages, it may take him a week to read if he reads ten pages a day, so I made up my mind to skip writing classes this week to avoid the awkwardness.
"I see you have decided to show up" he smirked when I returned to class the next week.
"Yes, I couldn't deal with waiting all week mostly because I feel insecure about the greatness of my content"
"Yea, yea. Well I thought you should know that I finished reading it the same day you gave it to me, so it wouldn't have been an awkward week. Also, I agree that the content isn't that great yet, but now we have something to work with"
A part of me was relieved because I didn't feel ready to blow up yet with all my imperfections and the other part feels devastated because I spent a year working on this and I thought I did great.
"Okay, well thank you for reading. How can we improve?"
"We? Aren't you the writer?"
"I mean yes, but I thought we were in this together!"
"We are, I was just kidding. Anyways, we will improve by you taking a break. You are such a perfectionist"
We rolled with laughter.
In Jamaica we would say, " Pot calling kettle black"
~
While on the subject of pot. I came home ready to take my mind of my miseries by baking. After thought and sifting the house, I chose a banana bread only to find out the bananas I was counting on were thrown away.
Deciding to pivot, I turned to some leftover soup from yesterday that Mr. Chase warmed and left on the stove. When I opened the pot, all the corns were gone.
I giggled out the kitchen, because I refuse to entertain this negativity I have been receiving.
~
"The last couple days have been the hardest. I have been inviting people in my struggles to help me through, but the more I talk, the more alone I feel.
Most of the early advice I have given people are thrown out the window. The older I get the more I realize sometimes there's nothing you can say.
*Camalia and Catherine join facetime call*
I just started my assignments, it's not a good time.
Ten minutes later I thought I could hop on for a few minutes so I did.
Catherine greeted me with, "whoo, Promise you just popped in"
"That's her style, just popping in"
" Camalia, didn't you call me? Why are you saying I just popped up"
Catherine and Camalia were friends before I came in the picture. She would always stay at her apartment , before she moved, and she would stop by my apartment to say hi occasionally.
Based on our time together, and not saying I want this to happen, but if there was ever a situation where Catherine should choose between me and something I think she wouldn't chose me. She is extremely grey area and likes to please the mass.
Camalia on the other hand, feels strongly about things she is interested in, so I thought I stood a better chance with her. Yet still I didn't. Sigh!"
Okay, that's it I don't know what else to write. Instructor Harris gave me a challenge to revise the book in thirty days. Two pages a day. I have been free writing for thirty minutes and it feels like that's all I've got.
If I tell him this, he is going to think I am making excuses. Maybe I won't tell him and when I hand him the blank papers at the end of the day, he will find out.
"Promise, how's it going"
"It's not"
"What's on your mind?"
"Too much to handle"
"I have a great idea, why don't you write about that?"
I smirked, I cannot convince him that not everything that comes out of his mouth is a good idea. His false confidence is quite hilarious.
" I have a better idea. If you tell me the insecurities you are hiding behind this flawed confidence, I could write about that."
"Since you have such better ideas, I don't want to see any white space on the paper I collect at the end of the day. Ms walking encyclopedia."
I guess I should have held my tongue because now he is serious instructor Harris and that one is no fun.
Wonder if I could get a ghostwriter? Nah that wouldn't work. Instructor Harris sifts my words, he would recognize that it's not my tone even if the exact thing was written by someone else.
For a man of his caliber, he should be working with some top networks taking home the big bucks. I guess he really likes academia.
~
By the end of the day, my brain realized the goal and decided to participate, so I was able to finish my two pages.
Since am on a roll with accomplishing my goals, I am going to try calling Ronnie to see if he will take my call today.
I called five times, no answer. That's the most I can go without thinking negative, so I put the phone down after I Ieft him a voice message.
"Hey Ronnie, it's promise. I have been calling you for the past couple of weeks and you are not returning my calls. I know I just stated something, but I want you to know, that I know that is what you are doing. Anyways, Why shouldn't I tell Camalia that you are coming? That's all I want to know! Please return my call. Bye."
*Phone ringing*
"Hey Promise! What's up?"
"Why shouldn't I tell Camalia you are coming?"
"Hey Ronnie, how are you? I have been sick over the last three weeks? Really? What was wrong? I had the flu. Oh no, sorry to hear. Thank you?"
"Are you done?"
"You are so heartless"
"Don't talk to me about heartless. Why shouldn't I tell Camalia you are coming?"
"Since you want the truth. My baby mother is coming with me, so we can christen the baby at Grandpa's church"
My jaw touched the floor. I could hear my heartbeats colliding with my skin. Suddenly I felt like I was in an alley in the pouring rain hiding from the sky.
Until a sweat from the ceiling fell in my eye and reminded me otherwise.
My day was going great. Now all I want is for it to be over.