here today

 

class

I am taking a class.  And my teacher hates me.  And this is hard for me because really, I want everyone to love me.  Not just like me, but love me.  I want to be adored.  But in this class, by this teacher, I am not adored.

I have reacted so far by being very early every Saturday, sitting near the front, and turning in all assignments.  On time.  None of this has helped.  In fact, the hatred seems to be growing.  She reacted to my reading by saying that she just didn't get it.  I said, it's funny.  she said, that's not good enough.  and I don't think it's funny. 

So, last Saturday.  Class coming up at 9am.  I'm outside at my car, with my coffee mug at 8.  Ready to drive downtown, sit near the front, suffer and then whine afterwards to everyone.

Meow from inside the car?  I have no cats.  My last cat, Walter, stayed behind in L.A. because he had taken to peeing on my paintings.  But this cat isn't mine, and has crawled up near the engine and is wedged under the Buick howling.  Howling.  I shake the car.  I jump on the hood.  I crawl under the car, dirtying my tight jeans that I like to wear to class to make myself feel better about the teacher hating me.  The cat won't move.  Soon, Ben has joined me and we are alternating between swearing at the cat and cajoling it.  "Fuckin cat."   "here, kitty kitty kitty". 

Smart cat.  Stays put.  Ben wants to poke it with a stick so we get in a fight about the best way to get the cat out so I can make it to this class that I no longer want to go to but it cost so much money that I have to go.  Plus, the teacher hates me.  So, I have to prove to her that she's wrong. 

I get some sliced turkey and hold it under the car.  The cat yowls and hisses at me.  I'm tired.  It's almost 9.  My coffee is cold.  Poke it with a stick, I tell Ben.  He does.  The cat streaks down the street.  I am late to class.  My teacher glares.  I have to sit in the back.  Craig reads his script about robots taking over the earth.  The teacher tells him it's brilliant.  I hate him.  I hate her.  I hate the cat.  I smile, take notes, raise my hand, vow to leave by 7:30 next week.

 

 

 

Posted by: 120pages at 10:25 | link | comments |