Creative Piece Inspired by "In Bed"

"Less Than a Wink"

The impressions you make on a person are not entirely those of a physical nature: a true friend doesn't stand by your side due to your looks, nor does a real romantic relationship thrive on beauty alone. First impressions start with the physical, and depending on the scenario, that quick glance could be the only interaction two people have. But there is an in-between: a colleague at work, or a student in your class. These are people who have interacted with you in more ways than a glance, yet less than a friend would. At this stage, the physical remains in play.

So, how does one deal with a twitch? The scene plays out the same every time. Working in a computer repair business, re-seating two sticks of RAM in the tower, and you look up. There's a co-worker doing the same. It could be a man or a woman, as neither gender makes the following any less awkward. A twitch, unstoppable and seemingly incurable, occurs: your right eye slams shut, producing the most violent winking animation that the co-worker has ever witnessed. What happens now? Do they think that you winked at them, or do they think that you want to hurt them? Surely there are labels running through their minds, ranging from creepy to psychotic, disturbed to insane.

My parents would never believe that the twitch was uncontrollable. Nothing I claimed to have actually existed: once, I offered the suggestion that I was depressed, to which they merely laughed at. They meant well in that they didn't want to believe that anything could be wrong with me. The same occurred when I brought up ADD. I can't exactly sit down and read a book, or study, without my mind wandering off permanently. It's a massive, unconquerable hindrance, perhaps fixable by medications, but my parents would never see me on them.

And so it was that I progressed through middle school and high school as the quiet, creepy kid. My fate was predetermined by a broken brain, and it's one that I can't explain to anybody because they don't understand enough to take it seriously. Instead, my parents (who are both in the medical field) write it off as laziness, and claim that it is simply my desire to slack off in life. They think me foolish, and unable to comprehend life's greatest challenges. My mother in particular believes that I lack the understanding to lead a fulfilling life, but that it can be fixed provided I simply "grow up" and leap headfirst into new-found responsibilities.

I admire her enthusiasm, and I want nothing more than to meet those expectations. I tell her that often, but she just shakes her head. If she knew the level of fear that consumes me every day, no matter where I am, she would certainly think differently. As it is, I'll continue to violently wink at those who I come in contact with. Maybe I'll get lucky, and people will realize it's a twitch. Or maybe, they'll wink back in some sort of silent understanding.

3 Essays from Short Takes

NOTE: The three essays are titled "Confessions" (88), "Bullet in My Neck" (318), and "The Big Nap" (322).

Life and death are perhaps the two heaviest topics that a writer can attempt to tackle. It likely does not surprise anyone that, in the realm of creative nonfiction, they tend to come up quite a bit. I have selected three essays from Short Takes that deal primarily with life and death, but beyond that, the feelings that they bring with them. I like to think they each tackle life and death in different ways, but are similar enough to the point where a trend in nonfiction writers is seen.

In “Confessions” by Amy Tan, her mother holds a knife to her neck after outright stating that she wishes that she would have died instead of her brother or father. Amy was clearly a victim of frequent abuse, and she grew up around death. Perhaps fittingly, she now has to worry about her own at the hands of the one person on the planet who is meant to defend you more than anyone else. The striking moment comes when her mom asks “Why you don’t cry?” We are treated to the inner thoughts of Amy, who is thinking “so what?” if she should die. She believed that she was at the point where no one would care, and in that moment, she primarily felt sad for her mother and the situation. This is certainly a unique view on death: being so used to it that you simply do not care if it should come and claim you.

In “Bullet in My Neck”, Gerald Stern has a bit more of a severe encounter with potential death. He is shot in the neck by a couple of teenagers while sitting at a red light in Newark, New Jersey. He states that “Everything in such a situation takes on a life of its own, and the few seconds it took me to realize I wasn’t going to die seemed like a much longer stretch of time, and though my neck swelled up and blood was pouring out, my only thought was the get out of there as quickly as possible.” Here, we see a strong desire to survive. Gerald’s survivor instincts kick in, and, despite the rapid blood loss and potential for panic, he is able to gather his thoughts quickly enough to know one true fact: he needed to get to a hospital quickly. This is in stark contrast to Amy’s essay, in which she is far more accepting of her fate. Gerald could have simply sat there, letting the blood pour, perhaps believing that there is nothing more he could do.

Finally, in “The Big Nap” by Michael Perry, we are given a completely different view on death. Instead of being the person about to be (almost) killed, we see an EMT’s opinion. For instance, in one scene he writes about, he has been called to an elderly woman’s assistance and was attempting to save her life while her crying husband watched on. He says “I wish we hadn’t been called at all. I wish he had simply put the phone down and held her hand as she died.” I don’t view this as evil or anything, as it’s basic human nature to not want to bear witness to such terrible moments in life. Even so, it’s interesting that an EMT, a person trained to see and deal with death on a daily basis, can still be moved by each experience as opposed to being desensitized.

I think this says a lot about creative nonfiction. It shows that what the common person may think to be the most obvious topic to write about may be one of the least obvious. That readers can be surprised by the turns an essay takes, and the massively different views that separate essays can present when dealing with the same theme. Life and death may be common elements of nonfiction essays, but they certainly do not have to all be about a relative dying and being sad about it, or any other common trope.

Suggested Essays During the Profile Essay (Lady Olga and Holiday)

In "Lady Olga," Joseph Mitchell gives us an incredibly descriptive profile on a bearded lady named Jane Barnell. I do really like that the first sentence draws a reader in with something unexpected ("Jane Barnell occasionally considers herself an outcast and feels that there is something vaguely shameful about the way she makes a living"), and that's one of the things I've been trying to focus on for my own revision. Jumping right into the conflict, or what makes the person interesting, is definitely the way to go as opposed to doing a standard, almost manufactured opening.

While there is a wealth of information here, I think that's what makes me dislike the piece. I'm sure it's good, but it certainly isn't for me. I much prefer profiles that use shorter bursts of sentences in an attempt to more hastily paint a better picture, if that makes sense. Even so, Mitchell puts his descriptive qualities to good use in describing her looks. He didn't simply stop at what he saw, but sometimes even included what other people saw, such as the line where Monty Woolley saw her once when she was dressed up and described her as Elsa Maxwell with a beard. That sort of description creates a fuller view of the person, which is something this piece has taught me that I need to do with my own essay in order to break the surface.

The "Holiday" essay was short and pretty wonderful: definitely more like the preferred type I was talking about earlier. I like how the writing seems to match the attitude of Joey, who seemed to be extremely hyper and fast-moving despite his disability. There isn't much to say here beyond the fact that most of it is based around scenes and stories, which is probably a reason this essay was suggested. I recall during workshop that I needed more stories interwoven in my own essay to help explain some things, and there is an excellent mix of profile and scene here. Most strikingly, though, is that final paragraph. It's short, but it feels like the whole mood changes. Joey was so excited to be part of this, and put everything into it, only for the reader to discover at the end he has no interest in performing because he doesn't like people watching him. Beyond that, he wants to become an accountant. There's something really special there, and I like it a lot, but I'm not sure I have the words to describe why. It just feels like the perfect ending.

Post 1900 Essay Annotation -- "My Face"

"Merely as an observer of natural phenomena, I am fascinated by own appearance."

The first line of Robert Benchley's essay "My Face" states something rather obvious about human nature: our level of caring for our own appearance. While his motives may have been a tad different in the early twentieth century, it's remarkable how true this remains in today's generation.

"Each day I look like someone, or something, different."

Benchley states shortly after this that he has no idea what he'll look like until he observes it in the mirror. While I don't believe he is a shape-shifter, and I'm sure there's some deeper meaning here, but I wonder if the combination of a tired mind and, perhaps, a mind that *wants* to see someone (or something) else in the mirror is what drives the phenomena. Then he mentions that the days he doesn't look like anything shocks him back into bed, which may further support the idea that he isn't entirely happy with who he is. However, he is attempting to take a shot at himself with a humorous undertone.

"In some pictures I look even worse than I had imagined."

Another classic scenario that holds true today. It's almost as though our brains are designed to think we look far worse in pictures than we think we will. But, maybe, that's simply because the concept of being entirely still is unnatural. The world is always moving, and that it is in that lifelike movement that we look our best as opposed to one still frame that can amplify our faults.

"My only hope is that, in this constant metamorphosis which seems to be going on, a winning number may come up sometime, if only for a day."

Talk about depressing. I think he's longing for the day that he can wake up, stagger over to the mirror in a sleepy haze, and see a person that he is truly proud to be. One that doesn't take the form of someone else that he may envy, but instead reflects himself as an individual, or a human being that has achieved a life he deems worth living.

"As a matter of fact, my upper lip is pretty fascinating by itself, in a bizarre sort of way."

It's a shame we didn't get a sequel entitled "My Upper Lip". It might have been wonderful, if a bit shorter. Still, it's good to know that he intends to try to keep his head up high as he goes day after day. It tells us that, at the time, he still had hope for himself, and wasn't quite ready to let the daily metamorphosis become a truly permanent phenomena.

The Great Divider

Everything newer than this post is being submitted as according to the portfolio requirement sheet. That's probably obvious, but I wanted it to be crystal clear (mostly for my own benefit -- I need to keep track of everything).

I'm so excited to get started. As of the current time, I cannot find my Short Takes book, which is the worst thing that could be happening right now. I hope it turns up.

"Men at Night" and "Love, Science, and Comics: The Nerdscapade"

Both "Men at Night" and "Love, Science, and Comics: The Nerdscapade" primarily revolve around a sense of uneasiness, but within each main character lies a bit of expectancy. David Huddle is ready to make his jump, while Alicia is sure that a relationship with this boy would never work out. In the end, Huddle is unexpectedly called back from the jump and Alicia finds that her potential relationship could totally work out (and it does).

I think the primary difference here is in how the author decides to handle that feeling of the unknown. With Huddle, he gives no hints up to the point of flat-out revealing that the plans have changed. This leads to a build-up of suspense, leaving the reader wondering what is going to happen when he makes that jump. In Alicia's essay, we are constantly given hints that the relationship works out ("even now I still joke about how he had to have somehow had ancestors that were trees" and "it was not by his family at all, they as a whole were and still are sweeter than a tall glass of southern-style sweet tea" come to mind). I think that's something Alicia could take from Huddle: the addition of suspense. Maybe lead us on to believe that there isn't exactly a happy ending.

Overall, my main point is that while I find Alicia's own anxiety and expectations to have been in place during the scenes expressed in the essay, I don't feel like it's completely passed on to the reader, and that's where she could take her essay next.

Rebecca Solnit

The passage on 248 is one that I'll maintain a love/hate relationship with. I can see where she's coming from, but at the same time, I hate to agree with it fully because she seems to be putting an insane level of importance on this idea of being other people (such as people who have never lived and strangers you’ve never met). It seems a bit (dare I say it) pretentious, I suppose.

As for its relevance to the book, I imagine that can be seen most prominently in her relationship with her mother. I personally had to witness the horror of my grandmother going through the terrible stages of Alzheimer's, and the caring-for process is one that would come to define a person. She seems to be acknowledging this as well right there in this passage, as she mentions “the forgettings and the misrememberings”. I guess in a way her mother had to sort of live through her as well. As the disease progressed, and her memory became far worse, what could she happen to know outside of Rebecca Solnit’s life? It would have to be her experiences that shaped her mother’s feelings and thoughts at the time.

I can entertain the notion that we, as the human race, do lead somewhat intertwined lives. It’s true that people you’ll never meet (or even hear of) can affect your life, after all.