an eternal question...

Is it better to have a big damn zit on your forehead OR a big damn bloody oozy crater where the giant eff you zit was?

Few have dared to wrestle with this question because the premise is just so difficult.
Do I want to look like a bit of a twit with bad skin care?
or
Do I want to look like some 16 year old acne fiddler who got overzealous and has created the grand canyon out of Mt. Everest.

Well...in inestimable role as Captain Self-Destruction (which would be my super hero alias except I have just given it away) I took dermatology in my own hands.

For those of you who know me...for the past 6 months or so I have had a horn. Right smack dab in the middle of my forehead I had what can only be called an appendage. It was huge. It was evident in profile. It was visible from space. There is you tube footage of astronauts pointing and saying "hey look, it's the great wall of china" and the first mate saying "nope that's my capacity's big eff you forehead zit" to which the first astronaut said "damn, why doesn't he just pop it"

So, after watching this you tube video I thought, "yes imaginary astronaut I will pop it."

Obviously it didn't take me 6 months to start messing with this thing. I did all of the squeezing and the poking that you would imagine. But it just didn't cut it. So I thought (like so many primates before me) "what I need is a simple tool...off to the medicine chest!"

Options available to me:
1. emery board
2. eyelash curler
3. eyebrow pencil
4. tweezers
5. finger nail clippers
6. blush brush
7. vase...

wait. Did I see finger nail clippers? Score. You know why? (if you answered that question with a yes...you too have a high capacity for self destruction) Because of the pokey outy little nail file thing.

So. If you want to maximize damage to your facial region in order to solve a problem with your facial region (something about smiting and noses and faces...the expression escapes me)you take the nail file pokey thing and jam it into the giant zit.

The results were dramatic.

I excised material about equal to the size and volume of a clove of garlic from my forehead. Victory is mine.

On the other hand, I jabbed metal into my face. So now I look like I have a slightly seeping bindi.

Man do I know how to bring the awesome sauce.

I wore a band aid on my forehead all day because I felt the question "what did you do to your forehead?" a lot easier to handle than "Holy crap. Oh God. What the...what did you do? Oh, Jesus...I...I just threw up a bit".

Sometimes I run...rarely I write.

There is something symbiotic in the life of a distance runner who is secretly out to destroy himself.
If you are looking for a guide of how to be a self destructive runner follow these simple steps!

1) Be a big damn dude. Being a Clydesdale (marathon euphemism for "big fatty fat fat" (ladies you are "Athena"s)) so I get an additional 60-100 pounds over my marathoning brethren (who seem to be made entirely out of pipe-cleaners, papier-mache and awesome) so that means I get to try a whole lot damn harder.

2) Have over-ambitious goals. I got it in my head that I was going to run a 4:15 marathon as my 'pie in the sky goal' so when I crossed the finish line of my last marathon and the clock said "4:15:30" my first instinct was to say "%#(%" and completely forgot that at worst I had missed my goal by 30 seconds and that I probably hung out at the starting line for at least 30 seconds before I started. Regardless... if you want to be disappointed set your goals super high, because by 26.2 miles you will not have the wherewithal to judge what is and is not good.

3) compare yourself to your friends who are, but for a few genetic quirks, Greyhounds. Part of being in a running group is inspiring...being with like minded people who have no problem talking about seeping blisters, peeing on yourself during a race or chafing and bleeding in areas not typically associated therewith over a plate of pasta can be empowering. The flipside is when your running friends talk about their disappointment in their marathon time when it is equal to your 10K time. Sure you get over it...but in the moment there is definitely an internal monologue that goes something like " damn".


That's about it. You follow this simple guide and you too can be a self-destructive runner.

I should say that I am extremely pleased by my last marathon 4:14:27 thank you very much, but I know that that time will beget little niggling thoughts like "you know what would be awesome?" and I will say "what's that" and the niggling thought will say " if you beat your PR (personal record) by another 15 minutes" and I will say "you are right little niggling voice, I should do that" and will then resume my life as a glutton.

talk about snatching defeat from the jaws of victory.

could be worse

I am a little whiny sometimes. I get all 'ooh, my head hurts', 'oh, my legs are sore', 'oh, my tummy feels funny'. She of the stolen bike never EVER gives me any grief about these ailments or other perceived slights to my corporeal self. She always greets such exhortations of woe with an honestly sympathetic 'oh. I am so sorry'. Thus inoculated from further pain with this very sweet reminder that I am being cared for all gets better and I go bounding out the door for some new adventure.

This model did not hold true recently.

For some reason my seasonal allergies have come back this year after a decade of symptomatic summer frolicking. My head has been full of fluid, my nose had been running but I was still functioning at what appeared to be 'normal'.

Then days turned into weeks and my head had increased in weight by roughly 750 pounds and everything hurt.

I am sure you are aware that when gradual changes happen you barely notice them until one day you think to yourself 'what did it feel like to feel normal...or well even?'

That day was a Tuesday when I woke up and wished I hadn't.

I will not go on to describe the various methods of fluid removal or the relative volumes of mucus expelled, but suffice it to say that I expected to see Charlton Heston in the foreground parting a yellowish green sea as it issued from my head.

Enough was enough. She of the stolen bike suggested I try medication to cure this malady...I had not considered this option not because I fear medication, but because I hadn't thought of it. My wife was shocked when I returned from Wallgreens with a bag containing cold and flu tablets. I really don't ever take anything...ever.

That was nothing compared to the shock she suffered when the next day I called her at her office and informed her that I was going to the doctor.

I have no problems with doctors, they are all rather nice people who choose to spend most of their days looking at and prodding parts of the body I try to pretend don't exist. I don't mind shots or getting blood drawn so, why in the name of all that is holy don't I ever go to doctors? You guessed it, it is a symptom of my high capacity for self-destruction.

Anyway I was sounding like Cameron at the beginning of Ferris Beuller's Day off and was getting winded walking around the block where days before I was running ten miles at a stretch. I went to the doctor.

As soon as I made the decision to seek professional help (an impulse my friends and family wish I more often) launched in me a strange fear. What if I am not sick? What if I am just a whiny cuz? What if I get there and the doctor says 'I don't know what to say. Get over it guy'? What if that is what he said? It would prove my deepest fears and convictions that I am a wiener.

In the car on the way to the urgent care (I don't have a regular doctor) I was thinking. Damnit, I am feeling better. The doctor is going to laugh at me. Just as this thought passed through my head I had a coughing fit and like a scion from heaven a tissue full of all that a coughing fit could yield. I kept driving to the clinic.

The nurse was the kind of man I wish I could be. Scary fit talking about his marathon experiences and quoting some of his personal best times. It occurred to me that his personal best took less time than it took me to get my well fed but out of bed and into the car that morning. I coughed again desperate to be found truly sick.

The doctor came into the room. In his middle fifties he had the kindly manner one associates with places like Mayberry or Walnut Grove. He had me repeat my litany of complaints and symptoms. He nodded sagely and said 'yeah, we've been getting a lot of that'.

Crap. I am just another in a long line of 'sick' people who probably were just trying to parley a mild cold into a sick day. I am a charlatan.

He than took out his penlight and said 'well, let's take a look shall we?'. this is a strange turn of phrase, its almost as though he is inviting me to view my own nasal passages and say 'ah, yes I see'. But I digress.

He clicked that little light on, and as he was peering into my nose he uttered 'yuck' and with the light in my ears said 'sheesh' and then down my throat he actually said 'oof da'.

And with that I knew I was in. I was sick! rock on. I made a doctor say oof da!

He went on to say. 'well, it looks like you have a double ear infection a sinus infection and bronchitis. I am going to give you something for that.

I was elated. I was actually sick and not just a loser. I was so excited I went home and took a nap satisfied in the knowledge that I was a walking, talking infection. It doesn't get any better than this.

Duty's Done

6/12/06

7:55. Dammit, use the fifth avenue entrance off of south sixth street? What the hell? Is it possible that the Hennepin County Government Center is located inside a damned parking garage. I swear what freaking mesomorph intern wrote these freaking....oh...fifth street.

8:05. Wow, what a beautiful building.

8:15. What is this like three hundred and seventy people. Man, throw a few photo stations in here and we have a makeshift DMV. OK, don't look anyone in the eye, if you do they will talk to you. They are bored and we are here all day... I don't want to have to make small talk with an elementary school teacher from miniaturized for the rest of the day. Just look at your coffee. Mmmm Coffee...I wonder if there is a coffee shop in here.

8:20 *tap, tap, tap* "Hello? Hello. Uh. Hello everybody, we are going to take attendance now. If you will just make a line over here with your bar code from your summons facing up we will take care of you. After I take attendance I have to compile a list for the sheriff's office for the people who are AWOL so please do get in line."
I wonder if anybody ever goes to trial for not showing up to jury duty...that would be funny, I could blog about that.

8:35 *tap, tap, tap* "Hello? Hello. Uh. Hello everybody, I am going to show you about a twelve minute video about your service here then I will do a little orientation...so here is the video."

8:36: *cheesy intro music* Terrible actors walk on screen talking about the privations they suffer by missing work for Jury Duty, but they are cautiously optimistic. Oh, there is a friend of mine. Ooof...she is on this video that tons of people see and she doesn't say anything. Hey, this is kind of like the video on a plane. I suppose not exactly since the chance of a water landing is very low.
Oh, there she is again, ooh...she must be pissed about that face.
Oh, pay attention...right.
did she audition for this?
No, no, pay attention!
Did she make SAG scale?
Pay attention!
I think she is wearing her own clothes, that's odd.
PAY ATTENTION.
"thank you for your service"
damn, should have paid attention.

8:48 *tap, tap, tap* "Hello? Hello. Uh. Hello, everybody. Does anybody have any questions about the video?

8:52 "Uh, what is our per diem?"
"20 dollars"
*collective groan"
"and 27 cents a mile for transportation no matter how you got here"
good thing I teleported.
"Do we have to fill out a W2?"
Oh my god, try not to swallow your own tongue, try not to swallow your own tongue.
"only if you make 600 dollars here"
*collective silence as people do the math*
"Not many people are here for six weeks."
*tight giggles and looks of horror to left and right* I keep my eyes on my coffee cup.

9:00. *tap, tap, tap* "Hello? Hello. Uh. Hello. So if we call a panel just bring all of your valuables with you and the officer will lead you up for jury selection.

I know feel like a steer awaiting the cutting shoot.

10:15. *tap, tap, tap* "Hello? Hello. Uh. Hello. We are pulling a jury panel, so here we go, this is a big one, 55 of you."
*collective groan*
"OK...(reads names alphabetically...gets to the letter sequences in my name and passes it.)"
I go back to reading my novel (A Feast For Crows, George R.R. Martin) I start feeling bad about not working. I vow to get the book I need during my lunch break.

10:22: "Ok that is everybody, thank you and sit tight"
Go back to reading and trying to ignore insipid conversations around me. One makes it through.
"So, you work right here in downtown."
"Oh, yeah, right there at HCMC then."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Uh, huh."
"So, where do you work then?"
"Oh me? Oh, I work down to Burnsville down there, yeah"
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah"
"What do you do there then?"
"Me?"
"Yeah."
"Oh, I just work with sheet metal then, you know, grinding and finishing hinges on commercial freezers and refrigerators."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah"
"What do you do down there to the hospital?"
"Me?"
"Yeah."
"oh,I am a nurse in the psych ward."
"yeah?"
"Oh, yeah."
"So, All those psychos down to the ward gonna miss you there then?"
"Oh, I don't know about that."
"You work in the psych ward, eh?"
"yep"
" You must know my foreman"
"Oh, really? What's his name"

That is when I went into the business center. I actually transcribed that conversation. You can't make that crap up.

11:35: *tap, tap, tap* "Hello? Hello. Uh. Hello. We are ready to pull another jury panel."

Confident that my luck wouldn't hold out, I get all my stuff together and stand up.
I didn't get called.
I sat back down.
Heh. I am going to make it to lunch. Who knew?


2:45: *tap,tap,tap* "Hello? Hello. Uh. Hello. OK we are pulling another jury..." I get called. Sweet. Wait. Is that good or is that bad? I don't know.
Now I have to relinquish all my weapons. Those (I have been informed) include cigar cutters, nail clippers, fireworks, nail files, pepper spray, guns, knitting needles. So, my pockets lighter, I begin my ascent up the 17 floors to the chambers of a district judge.

3:00: They tell you where to sit. You need to sit there every time. Its so the principals can get to know you...wierd.

3:15: "Mr. uh... Mycapacity?"
"Yes"
"What did you think when you first got the jury duty summons?"
"Well, to say that I was excited would be overstatement."
flop sweat inducing silence.
Crap. Why do I need to entertain?
"Does jury duty cause you undo strain?"
don't try to be funny, don't try to be funny.
"nope"
Damn, I should have said 'nope, I try to eat right, exercise and stretch regularly'. That would have got them laughing...oh, wait...there is a guy in an orange jumpsuit whose life is actually affected by today's work. I am an ass.
"Do you think you could be a fair and impartial juror?"
"yes."

4:25:"Ok, today we are going to recess, be back here tomorrow at 10:00am."
but, but the jury wasn't selected...wait. wait. Ten O'clock.
Awesome.

10:15am Tuesday 6/13: "good morning ladies and gentleman we are going to continue with voir dire today. We may ask you some embarrassing or uncomfortable questions."
I work with 11-14 year olds...bring it on.

11:05: "Mr. Mycapacity. It says here that you are an actor."
"Yes. Well...I am actually a teacher. I act as part of my contract...uh...sorry, the answer to the question would be yes."
laughter
YES! Validation, I am a person. A sick person, but a person none the less.
"As an actor you understand the theatre"
"I hope so, or my students will be disappointed"
silence.
damn.
"Yes. well, as somebody who understands the theatre, do you understand the theatre of walking into the room and seeing one person wearing an orange jumper. what did that say to you?"
I so despearatly wanted to say that I thought he was joining the road company of Starlight Express but I said.
"Well, my first reaction was empathy" At that point I swear I heard the prosecutor cross my name off the jury roster.
11:50: After listening to my fellow 18 jurors answer questions that all would lead to their eventual use in a jury. Then the judge says....
"Thank you ladies and gentlemen of the jury. Right now we are going to break for lunch we will see you at 1:30."
1:45: "Alright ladies and gentlemen, right now we are going to tell you who is and who is not going to be on this jury."
I am surprisingly full of stomach butterflies.
"I am going to read off the names of the people on the jury. The rest of you report to the jury room for your next assignment."
1:50: My name is not read.
1:51: I go down to the jury room
4:20: I pee.
4:25: "...are now on 'on call' status."
what. What?
4:30: "Uh... I was in the bathroom."
"You are now on 'on call' status"
"Is there anyway I could get called this week?"
"What?"
"Could you fudge the system so that I could get called this week instead of next?"
"Uh...You're done."
"What?"
"We have enough people on call...you are done."
"I am done done?"
"Done done."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome"

4:35: I walk away from my civic duty. Am I happy? I have no idea. Man, if there was any clearer evidence for the breadth of my capacity for self destruction I think we need look no further than my desire to continue on jury duty.

others in whose path I follow

To claim that I have the greatest capacity for self-destruction would be folly.I have sat at the feet of many people be they fictional, historical or contemporary who either far outstrip my capacity for self-destruction or who have a bit more flair. I will try to arrange my list is somewhat chronological order over a few entries. Some of the connections I draw will be bollocks... but even if I get them wrong factually, it is my interpretation of these characters that have ultimately added the depth and breadth of my capacity that I know enjoy. I will start with some people from the theatre...after all its my bread and butter...later we may find some other folks...stay tuned.

Oedipus- no matter which way your pronounce it (ed-ih-pus or eed-i-pis)brother got himself one solid capacity. Some hallmarks that make this guy a real champ.
1. He KNEW he was in for it. In my life I constantly have warning signs...some may not be quite as solid as an oracle...but some good indication to stop now. And frankly a good 'do you want all those cheetoes?' is as good as any oracle any day.
2.Minor success breeds mind shattering (if misplaced) self-confidence. Sure I have never out thought the sphinx but you get 31 eighth graders to all do the same thing at the same time ain't too shabby. Then, like my predecessor, I think I can do no wrong...and though the fallout for my hubris doesn't go quite as far as our hero's I think it is all a matter of degree.
3. overeaction. I overeact, do does Oed. OK, so I never killed my father and married my mother but I do know that blinding yourself for the offence doesn't seem off the rails. For example by degrees eating a bag of potato chips (read:big damn bag) feeling bad about it so eating ice cream is pretty much the same thing...hell, either way you go blind.

Hamlet-Though I like to think myself a little more fun-loving than our Danish friend he does seem to think a lot about ways to make things better which pretty much always makes him land on his twins.
1. Mother love. Let's get this out of the way first. Despite my last two selections for the wall of fame, and my admitted love of my mother I don't have these guys troubles. But again to acknowledge by degrees Ham-bone's actions it seems the same thing to be upset with your mom's new boyfriend and going around and stabbing people in arrases. This is just like not liking to clean so one creates a great mound of dirty clothes next to ones bed (which one (in this case) refers to as the poop deck)and looks at it affectionately and without irony as the pile...It's the same thing.

2. Bitch, bitch, bitch. So, I am pretty sure that Hamlet didn't have DSL in his dorm room but if he did, he would have a blog. There we could read all sorts of entries about 'I miss my dad, he was so great, this one time he took me fishing and let me taste beer' and 'god my mom is a pain, I wish she and my uncle would just get a room already' or ' o, that this too too solid flesh would melt, thaw and resolve itself into a dew!, or that the Everlasting had not fix'd his canon 'gainst self-slaughter! Oh God! God! How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable, Seem to me all the uses of this world!.' For one I freaking hate exclamation points so that is just overboard. But It sounds to me like hamlet would have a little blog maybe he would call it 'elsisnore' or some god-awful pun.

3. Can't find an ending. Ok, so this isn't Hamlet himself but rather the play. Shakespeare wrote about four hours worth of play and was just knackerd so he did what any guy with a big capacity for self-destruction would do and said 'screw it, just kill everybody' then when Anne Hathaway said 'honey, everybody's dead nobody will care about elsinore if nobody is there' he said 'fine, I will write a Norwegian in who will take everything' and thus Fortinbras, now there is a guy who can do a keg stand.

Helena- The first woman on my list, though my second Shakespeare creation. Helena may in fact have the largest capacity for self-destruction of any character that I am aware.

1. Pining. She is just so desperate for Demetrius that she can't stand it. She even says (of her nemesis Hermia who has beguiled the hapless Demetrius) 'Through Athens I am thought as fair as she, but what of that Demetrius thinks not so'. She is saying that I could have anybody I want...I just don't want anybody but Demetrius. This is just like my saying I want more than anything to be fit, but I am not, so lets eat!.

2. Disbelief at good fortune. Around the middle of the play Helena gets exactly what she wants...sure it is via a magic spell...but hey we all need a bit of fairy dust. Here is where you can see that her capacity for self destruction is beyond mortal ken. She doesn't believe him. He says 'O Helena, goddess, nymph, perfect, devine! To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne?' which is EXACTLY what she wants but she replies 'O spite! O hell! I see you all are bent to set against me for your merriment' She thinks he is kidding. I recognize this, when she of the stolen bike and I were first together I asked her 75,000 times a day if she still liked me. Listen folks, if you got something good, don't provide it opportunity to reconsider.

3. Refusal to admit she is wrong. She fights (physically) Hermia not for the love of Demetrius but because she is so convinced that they are making fun of her. All of them swear they are not but it doesn't matter. It requires a magic spell cast by sprite (not the soda) to fix it all. To her credit, when magically altered she does change her tune, but come on how often does that happen here in the mundane world. I for one am convinced of my failure until the bitter, bitter end and would just about kill for good robin goodfellow to raise his magic wand and make everything all better. (not that things are wrong in the first place...Its all in my head.

Sixth graders like it

In an attempt to post more I am using a strategy used by writers the world over. I am recycling crap that I already wrote for other reasons and putting it up as new work. This makes perfect sense because I could have gotten away with just posting the scene and not commenting on it and nobody would be the wiser. Alas, my capacity for self destruction demands I don't have a fuzzy relationship with the truth no matter how sad it may make my efforts seem.
This is not my favorite scene I have ever written...actually its not in the top ten. What it is is the first scene I ever wrote for students...or...anyone for that matter, so, I thought it warranted at least an historical spot on the blog. The scene does have one thing going for it. Sixth graders like it.
That sentence is rarely uttered. Sixth graders don't like many things if they are the idea of an authority figure. However, I have managed to stumble upon something that some girls in my class enjoy. It is a scene I wrote three years ago to get three girls to stop whining because every scene I gave them 'sucked'. So, The Glass Menagerie or Comedy of Errors it is not but for whatever reason 11 year old girls like this scene.

(2 students quietly working in their room, M (the loud one) enters…loudly)
M: Guess what, you are never going to believe this!
H+S: Mmmm?
M: I've found him.
(H and S continue working)
M: I've found him.
H: Found who?
M: Him!
S: Him, who?
M: You'll never believe it.
H: not at this rate.
M: I've found him.
S: again?
M: what?
H: (to S)now its what and who.
S: (laughs)
M: Don't you guys want to know who?
H: I was kind of interested in what.
M: What?
S: yeah, what?
M: I hate you, since you obviously don’t care I am leaving. Good bye.
(M leaves, comes back seconds later)
M: Guess what, you are never going to believe this!
(H+S look at each other and back at M)
H+S: (mock excitement) What?!
M: I've found him.
H: I'm going to kill you.
S: --Who?!
M: Brad,the man I am going to marry.
S: Oh Mollie.
H: Another imaginary boy?
M: No! This is him!
S: Him who?
H: (to S) don't you start.
S: Where did you meet him?
M: On the internet
S: What?
M (louder): ON THE INTERNET
H: OK, when did you first meet him in person?
M: Next Tuesday
S: Ok, and what did he look like?
H: Wait, next Tuesday?
S: NEXT Tuesday?
M: you guys going to break into song?
H: You haven't met him yet?
M: Yes online. He's very sweet, he sent me this ring (displays hideous ring)
(uncomfortable pause)
S: (to H) my turn?
H: yes.
S: Ok, Mollie honey. You know I love you.
M: Oh, I love you too.
S: Shut up. Here's the thing. This is crazy. This is running barefoot on broken glass crazy. This is eating fire crazy. Let me put it this way. If I bought a whole truckload of crazy and only this showed up. I'd be a satisfied customer. It's that kind of crazy.
M: We do crazy things for love.
isn't Mollie, this isn't love. This probably isn't even Brad. What's more likely is that this is some sixty year old, six hundred pound shut in named Reginald wearing a cub scout uniform who speaks fluent elvish. He sent you his dead grandmother's engagement ring so that you would spend the rest of your life filing corns off his feet and opening sardine cans. This person is not your true love.
M He's got friends who say they're interested in you guys.
S: really?
H: Shannon! No. This is not happening (blocking the door). You are not going to meet him. None of us are getting married until we all decide we're ready.
M: You're not the boss of me!
H: ooh, ouch (tdidn'tannon) at least she didn't call me liar, liar pants on fire.
S (on computer)
M: Listen you... shrew; (growing calm) you two are without question my best friends. (Totally seriously) My life is not going to be easy in the next few years. Think about it. My parents aren't going to be thrilled about my impending marriage. And can you imagine what its going to be like being the only married girl on the cheer team? I am going to lose friends, the love of my family, respect of my teachers and quite possibly the only chance I’ve ever had at having a normal life because I am sure, I am positive that I am in love. Love knows no age and has no wisdom of its own. But I've found it, and all I ask from the entire world is that you help me through it. If you can help me, I know my life will still be a good one.
H: (feigning sympathy) Molie, (truly harsh) that is the single stupidest thing I've ever heard in my life, if you do this.
S: ...guys
H: ...you will not only be the dumbest...
S: ...guys...
H: ...but, quite possibly the deadest...
S: guys! (they look at S) Mollie, come here (they both do) Is this Brad?
M: yes, why is he emailing you?
S: He just proposed to me.
M: You Tramp!
S: Stop. Listen. Brad is not a person. He's a reality T.V. show. He proposes to a group of young women online and whomever responds gets a ring. On the inside of the ring is a phone number, you cal that and you get an audition time. If you get cast, you will appear on the show every week and have to complete stupid tasks to finally earn "Brad's" love. Then, if you do, you're married on T.V.
H: (truly sympathetic) Oh Mollie, I'm so Sorry.
M: (nearly dumbstruck) How did you find this out?
S: (sorry) It's all on this web page
M: Is Brad real?
S: Sort of he's part of the show.
M: So this ring?
S: Just a marketing gimmick.
M: (soberly takes off the ring) Here's the number.
H: Mollie, I am sorry if I was harsh.
S: Yeah, I wish, I , uh.
M: I just can't believe it.
H+S: I know.
M: (joyfully) I'm going to be on T.V.!

So there it is. It doesn't hold pride of place for me or anything (especially since I so obviously cribbed other plays and movies) but it represents from where I come. I probably write 3-5 scenes a month for students and one out of ten is usually not crotch twingingly bad. So take it for what it is and let that little eleven year old girl in your soul giggle...just don't let your teacher catch you enjoying it.

Has't come to this?

I suppose if you have a blog called My Capacity for Self-destruction and you don't write in it very often things are going OK.
Things are going OK, pretty great in fact, but I have just been slammed with end of the school year business as of late and haven't had a chance to sit down and write my little missives.
So, what am I going to do about it? What would somebody with such a highly developed capacity for self destruction do? I am going to cheat. Yep, I am going to cop right out and recycle old material. (Now you know I am a middle school teacher, right?).
What follows are a few very short scenes from the eighth grade play that I wrote with my students.
My capacity is evident in the process of this piece so I guess it isn't entirely specious.
The way I write the eighth grade play with kids is a four step process that takes about 6 months.
Here is how it starts. In October (October for Christ's sake) I have the students create a character out of nothing. I ask them to approach the opportunity in a you get to play whatever you want...so make it good.
It will come as no surprise to those of you who either work with 13-14 year olds or remember being one that the majority of these characters are tragic. The body count in the back stories for the characters most of the young women chose is staggering. The boys all have secret addictions. The third group of kids are the ones who create characters exactly like another person in class in order to punish them.
Anyway they create these characters.
I then put them in groups and they have to make scenes as their characters without much guidance at all. This takes about three weeks.
Next we have to find some reason for all these characters to be in the same place at the same time or find some way to put them all together.
This years group was so disparate and wide reaching that we did the only thing possible. Stuck them all on a cruise ship so nobody could get away. I also had to use the hackneyed 'play within a play' device.
sad, I know.
I should have just stuck in a pair of cross-dressing twins, a suicide or two and we'd have Shakespeare.
Anyway, I then take the character sketches and the scenelets they wrote home and make it into a play with a beginning, middle and end.
This year the play topped in at 115 pages, it ran 90 minutes long and I was really proud of the performance.
That's the other thing about kids, they make the schlock and drudgery I come up with on long December nights and make it worthwhile. Damn them.
Anyway I will be sharing a few sections that make me giggle from time to time. Here is one.
This little scene takes place before the auditions for the play within the play. Susie is a character who is enthusiastic but not too bright.
Sydney is a character who is edgy and a little needy.
Shannon is a character who everybody likes and who thinks she is very, very funny.
Sally is an ambitious gossip queen.

(preparing for an audition)
SHANNON (to herself)
What a to do to die today at a minute or two to two. A thing distinctly hard to say but harder still to do...

SYDNEY(to herself)
You talking to me? You talking to me? You look like you're talking to me?

SUSIE (to SYDNEY)
That's really good.

SYDNEY (to SUSIE)
What's really good?

SUSIE
Your little Pacino thing you’re doing.

SYDNEY
De Niro.

SUembarrassedrased)
Oh, sorry. Gracias.

SALLY (to SUSIE and SYDNEY)
Will you guys quiet down, I got to go in there next.

SYDNEY (ignoring SALLY)
Gracias?

SUSIE
De nada

SALLY
What are you guys doing?

SUSIE
Speaking Spanish.

SHANNON
I speak Spanish.

SYDNEY: we weren't speaking Spanish. I was doing my De Niro monologue.

SUSIE (correcting)
No, no. De Nada.

SHANNON (To SUSIE)
What?

SALLY (to SHANNON)
What?

SUSIE (To nobody)
What?

SYDNEY (To SUSIE)
What?

SUSIE
Sorry, got carried away.

SYDNEY
OK, could we all shut up please?

SALLY
I am going in next and by heaven if I don’t come out of that room as sleeping freaking beauty there will be hell to pay.

SYDNEY
Well, you are half way there.

SALLY
I am not above violence.

SUSIE
It's pronounced de nada.


So that is what I do. That is in fact my day job. A little window into my capacity.
well. I am on my way to teach, and I am sure we will all be better for the experience.