Aversion to Love--- Chapter 2

Story about a writer

The next class I made Mike sit at the front of the lecture hall with me. I wanted to sit as close to Regina as possible. I felt that if I was going to become a better writer, I would have to be sitting close enough to hear her breathe.

"I am very anxious to hear your lists but I am even more anxious to read the ideas that come from these lists," Regina said to us at the beginning of the class.

"Before you guys share your lists, I'd like to share mine. I love sweet tender kisses on the sides of my beck I love the movie Dead Poet's Society. I love coffee house readings. I love afternoon delight, the song and the activity. I love hot soup on a cold day. I love ridiculously long walks. I love snow angels and hot baths. I love long showers. I love air drying after a shower. I love puppy dog kisses."

She didn't have anything in front of her while she recit4ed her list. She said it all from memory. She was standing behind her podium as she said her list. She came from behind it and took a piece of folded paper out of her pocket. 

"Now, I'm going to read you a poem based on something from my list. The title of the poem is 'Snow Baby'."

"Precipitation falls and our babies don't know us anymore.
We stop caring and sharing
Avoiding words like reunion
Because reunited doesn't always feel so good.
We're very anxious and hopeful
Maybe it will stop, maybe it will pile up
And make us stay closer a little longer
Watching our little snow babies with their pink cheeks
Making angels in the snow."

"Perhaps you want to write the great American novel. You want your masterpiece taught in classrooms around the world. Maybe you'll be deemed a classic. Maybe you'll be the next poet laureate. Most people don't even know what their job truly is. You'll know.You could become a professor and stand in front of hundreds of students. You could shape how they grow as writers. That could be your masterpiece."

Feeling a little braver today than Tuesday, I raised my hand. I wanted Regina to shape who I was a writer. The more she spoke, the more my mind felt fulfilled.

"Yes?"
"Kellie Casey. I was wondering if you consider your current profession your masterpiece?"

"No, I don't. Don't get me wrong, I love my job. It's just that I love writing so much more than teaching. When something is so much your passion, everything else feels like it's getting in the way."

"Thank you," I said to her. I wrote down what she said in my notebook. I felt like she was reading right from my head. 

"Teacher's pet," Mike whispered to me elbowing me in the ribs. I ignored him and listened to the rest of the lecture.

"I know that you were previously taught how to write for an audience. You were taught the art of writing what they want to hear. So let's say you do that. What about you? What about what you want to write? What about who you really are as a writer?

"People who write what they are told to write have a name. They're reporters. Some people are technical writers. If you're a technical writer, thought I have respect for you, this isn't really the class for you. You need to sit and ask yourself what kind of writer are you?

"Are you a good writer? Do you have amazing grammar? Do you say 'you and I' verses 'you and me'? You need to ask yourself where you belong. Some of us have no imagination. Some of us will never be creators. Some of us, however, are creative thinkers. We are a strange breed. We marry things that make people do that confused dog head thing."

She turned her head to the side to illustrate what she meant. The entire class chuckled.

"I want to see your potential. I'm here to water your garden and to just watch it blossom into something fantastic. I'm not your gardener though. I'm just an innocent bystander. I want to be able to walk by and smell the flowers. I want inspiration to go home and tend to my own garden. 

"Each of you is your own little creative genius. If you're here because you're lost, let this class be your compass. Let this compass guide you through the world that they think is flat but you know is round. I promise you won't fall of the edge of the earth. If you're a genius, unleash it. You at least owe it to yourself. You know who else you owe it to? You owe it to the world. Don't be selfish. Let the world know you're a f*****g genius!

"Today is the last class of me running my mouth. Yes, I do love to talk but I know who I am. I want to know who you are. Next class, we're going to round table with our writings. I'm going to unleash some geniuses on the world. That is my job. Though it's not my masterpiece, it is quite a passion I have. Round table will help me weed out the easy credit buffoons too. I know there are still some of you in here. I can smell you. Trust me; the rumors are true. I can definitely be a b***h. If you're here for an easy A, I will make you sorry. I'm giving you ample opportunity to get the f**k out of my class. I highly recommend you seek your adviser and get out of my class please. I'm not kidding. I'll make you wish you'd never met me.

"For your next assignment, I want you to write a poem or prose about ecstasy. If you want to write about the drug, feel free. I won't judge you. I mostly mean something that truly gets you going. Be prepared to share with the class. Who knows? Maybe I'll share something with you too. I'll see you who dare on Tuesday. Unleash your f*****g genius!"

Author's Note

unfinished