everything I need to know I learned in high school
This is how a writer comes up with ideas:
I need to think of something to write. I need to think of something to write. It’s Wednesday, I need to post. What’ll I write about? Why did I ever start this dag-nabbit blog? Why am I talking like Yosemite Sam?
Random thoughts. Angst. Hostility. Show tunes. Ah, yes…
High school. This feels like high school, chained to a desk with nothing in my head. Like writing notes in high school. Blogging is like writing notes in high school. I think I’m using some of the same brain cells I used then; dormant lo, these (mmmumbbullll) years.
What is my favorite memory from high school? Chinese fire drills in my mother’s 1968 Buick Electra? Cruising Westheimer on a Saturday night, just to see what we could see? Drive-ins, no more information necessary?
No! The highlight of my high school career occurred my freshman year at my all-girls’ school.
It was a beautiful Spring day in Texas. Girls with pressing deadlines in all of their core classes lounged on the Easter-basket grass in the court yard, working on their tans.
Suddenly, the double doors to the auditorium burst open, and a nude young lad sprinted across the courtyard, through the door to the office atrium and out the front to a get-away car.
Wait! That’s not the good part. (Sorry, Anonymous Young Man.)
Thirty seconds later, Sr. Mary Margaret pushed her way out the auditorium door, running as fast as she could after the scamp. She moved so slowly she was almost going backward, but she was determined to save her girls! She had, stretched in front of her, at arms’ length…
I always wondered what would have happened if she had run a little faster. Would she have tackled him? I relish the picture of a nun rolling around on the ground with a naked man. What if she couldn’t cover him up all the way with that tiny little raincoat? Would she wrap it around his front and shield us from the sight of his bare rump with her own body? Or vice-versa? The world will never know.
And that is how a writer comes up with an idea.
I didn’t say it was a good idea.