Do you live in Los Angeles? Is it still 2011? Because if it is you need to find a way to see Bring it On the musical. Just do it. Its great. Its way better then the movie and still has the great elements of cheer competition, but has the added element of a STORY THAT MAKES SENSE. Its actually quite an inspiring story. Yes, I am 30 years old. No, I am not in high school (though I’m sure seven years of teaching it really dpid have an impact on my emotional development). It is a shame that its only a musical on stage and not something that actually adolescences can see unless they figure out how to get student tickets. I guess that’s why they have the Disney channel and all its teen movies about falling in love, facing your fears and learning to be yourself.
End of shameless plug. Here is my 10 minute writing for today. The prompt came from Writing Pad’s online course for So You Wanna be a Writer lesson on showing, not telling. Try to guess what emotion all this action is leading up to.
My head was spinning. Seriously, spinning. I thought the world was going to tip off its axis from the way that nothing held still when I stepped off the bus a block from my house. Each step felt like the Earth was slipping beneath my feet. I held on to my glasses with one hand and began to run, my feet colliding with the ground to remind me that it was still there. The feeling seemed to hold things still enough for me to make it home. I slowed down enough to make sure Daddy’s car wasn’t there. No one needed to witness me as a mess. I didn’t feel like following the rules or explaining myself. Daddy would ask what’s wrong and I would have to tell him that everything was fine. Nothing is fine. Nothing would be fine again.
I slammed the front door. The vibrations shook the pictures on the wall but nothing fell. God, I can’t even wreak havoc correctly. The world swayed to a stop behind my door and my eyes scanned the room, hungry for something to destroy. The need to feel destruction overwhelmed my senses. Walking down the hallway to my room I searched for something to tear and break. Anything and everything he’d ever given me needed to be destroyed right away.
My bedroom, a shrine to my love for him. The card that he’d given me for my birthday was torn in half before I realized I’d snatched it from the wall on which it was pinned. I kicked the teddy bear that slumped on my floor. The dried flowers crumbled easily in my fingers. The bottle of perfume landed in the garbage can with a satisfying clunk. My drawer of love letters emptied easily, the pages shredded in my fingers. Organized by date, I didn’t read them, I just ripped and ripped them.
Then I stopped. Exhaustion slammed into me like train and I laid myself on to my bed. The world steady, my heart pounding, the heat I’d felt draining from my skin. I laid my head on my pillow. The pillow he’d shared with me. The pillow he’d tucked under his head when he leaned over to kiss me. Kiss me with the lips he was now kissing her with. My room began to spin again, the walls and what remained on them tilting to the left. I felt something swell in my throat, tears hot against the rim of my eyes. How could he kiss her like he kissed me? I opened my mouth to sob, prepared for tears and overwhelming sadness. I vomited instead