Perceptions upon reading

I, too, have been mulling...especially since I've read the written output of the group since January (took awhile to get through it all). I wish I had started with you....took the road trips, bemoaned the Valentines, suffered the relationships which came bubbling to the surface.  Instead, I'm late to the party and, with no ears,  must rely on my vision only. I love Reese's descriptions of how her day starts with her friends and the chats. I wish that were me, but I'm out here and out of the loop and late to start. I'm like the lag on DMT.  Such a nuisance.  But, I put up with the lag rather than risk leaving the game and being shut out!.
And, so, I hope you'll put up with me because half the game here is better than nothing.  I do wish the Voice chat were more accessible to me.

Anyway, I was remembering back to when I met you and the perceptions I had of you, before we were friends. Please don't judge my perceptions too harshly...they came from an uninformed place and an innately suspicious mind.

I don't trust the face value of the profiles or statements people make about themselves. I, myself, am brutally honest but I suspect everyone else is lying, fibbing, scamming or in some other way being dishonest.  It is simply the way I see the world. So, a place like the internet where all is hidden behind phony names and pictures, seems a treacherous place to hang out. But, once I started playing a game, a drawing game, I began to see a different reality. But, I still had my suspicions and my curiosity.  So, I picked up on any little clue that surfaced in order to suss out the real lives of the fakers I was playing with. Forgive me.

My first friend was Logica. A young high school kid with great art ability. She was my time zone. I could count on her being on line in between classes and at lunch. We didn't chat, just had fun drawing...then came Melsnik.  She started every draw with a llama, in a boat, skiing, rollerblading, modeling a bikini! She had a great sense of humor. I say 'she' in both these cases but, I was only sure about Logica... her photo was candid and female.  Mels talked about knitting and there were lots of pictures of knitted llamas. But, I still have my doubts. In my mind, I sometimes picture a large beer-gutted gentleman with his knitting needles in front of his computer screen. And, then came Shellfish.  She was the first to share extra info. First it was art and trading pictures thru email and then came chat with her.  She told me stuff about the other players and just like that I was back in high school. Names, ages, relationships, the back stories, the intrigue...it was amazing and all there...kinda like real life!

And, then there was Barnacle Boy. He was in the waiting area and watched a room take me on for being too old, or a pedophile, or something.  It was a bullying, and I took it. He friended me after that and I was grateful. And fascinated.  His art was something and he seemed to choose my room as often as I chose his. And, the humor.  I laughed with him for the first time in years. From his art I knew he was older than the kids.  I had run into few who knew what vinyl records were. He did. When I mentioned an old TV show, movie, or song lyric, he knew it. He was very special. And, a talker.

Then came Trux to be with Barnaby.  Trux didn't like me.  I didn't know enough to honor him with time, no guessing, quiet.  But, being dumped out of the room a few times taught me the lesson and I got to watch him/her work the room. I think he's a man but the only one I ever met who writes 'hee hee' to giggle. In fact, the guys don't talk much but women are very chatty.

So, I knew Rosie was a woman right away...and her humor!  And then I watched her and Vainglorious (I think it was her) get into a very funny bit with vaginas one night.... It was funny and racy but...when I saw both their names in a chat room for gay and lesbians, I figured that's who she was...and I was having fun with the guys. Especially fun were Guess My Sketch and JC McLovin (there was no way that was his real picture...maybe an old Bing Crosby studio photo).  They were playing the game with new themes and suggestive images...satire happens when you know the subject very well. This was a whole new level...

And, now I'm here with Reese (bless her) and the Real Rosie (hooray) and JC (himself!). And, I just read almost everything they've written since January!  And, I'm shocked!  If I didn't know better I would think they are real! But, I know better...Reese is a corporate executive who oversees the drawing rooms watching for bad behavior,  and Rosie is a twenty year old novelist running potential story lines past her adoring public (us) and JC is a retired rock star who wishes he had stayed with Mick Jagger when he had the chance. Right?  How did I ever get here?

Dr. Rhule: Reading Sharon

Sharon's new eye doctor is interesting to me.  I have picked out enough information to discover that she doesn't tolerate the artificial odors of perfume or deodorant.    So Sharon goes in with her natural scent on her and no more. She even holds her breath, lest she breathe on the Good Doctor.  Toothpaste perhaps? Mouthwash? are they scented with death dealing MINT.  Is it all odors?  and are we glad she's not a gynecologist?

Her name is Dr. Rhule.  That cracks me up.  Our therapist was Dr. Bosse.  but he never was.

Does she get tired of the jokes about her name?

I ease further into Sharon's story. I recognize a situation like my own.  Hey I've had an eye exam recently.  Let me connect with this story.   I really want to be satisfied when I am down to the end, I want to nod my head and say.  YES!

I appreciate the drama of a formal eye exam. The chair.  the dim lighting.  The apparatus brought up way too close for comfort.   But I can't relax around a new doctor anyway.  It doesn't matter what body part you are going to be getting near.   I need to connect first on an emotional level.  Your name isn't enough for me.  You are wearing a white coat.  I've got doctor stories...

I need to connect.   They are busy, they are professional.  I need to hear them tell me the important magic words.  "If you get scared, I will stop."   but they are on a schedule.  They don't have time to stop.   It's a catch 22,  disclosing that I startle easy, scares me, dismays them, slows it all down and it's worse.   Better to deal with it inside myself,  even if my therapist tells me to warn and talk about it.  I usually don't.

I have to get through, without being in control.    Oh my.   I've learned to manage my panic without prattling. When they ask me how I am.  I squeak out.. fine.  I practice my breathing.

They don't need to know that I fasted before I came.  That I skipped breakfast, so my stomach would be empty. that my bowels would have less to loosen.    I'm fine.  That I sat in my car and visualized serene surroundings and counted peaceful wooly sheep on a lawn. One, Two, Three.

So there is Sharon, speaking up to the doctor as she mutters her notes.   Sorry?   I smile at the word.  I say Hmm? myself when I can't hear.  but "Sorry?" is recognizable to me, from books.  I search for a reference in my head.  Something formal. I think.

The Adam's family, the cartoon in the New Yorker. comes to mind.  Butlers, like Jeeves comes to mind.  BBC comedies come to mind.  Pardon me?  Excuse me?

Old words.  Now a days people say the short guttural HUH?  or the word my teacher was fond of correcting. What?  " Don't say What?"    That battle was lost. 

Sharon sits making sense out of the incomprehensible.    Eyes. diabetes, retinopathy.  and she catches onto the word.  MOLD.  M.O.L.D.  MOLES.

Her mind goes into overdrive.  Mine does that too, sometimes.   This is the point of the story,  I think.  Defenses and walls. Guarding and lowering them.  Knowledge and trust.

I should laugh. The doctor and Sharon are laughing together.  I should laugh in relief.  Whew!

The doctor is benign.  YES!

the task master

im seething a little and its seeping out.  so im writing about it.

my oldest student was snide with me today.  he often gets this way when he has missed breakfast.  i know when he is in one of these moods when he starts muttering under his breath.  he tends to be irritable and unpleasant at times, and what he often perceives as an under the breath, off-handed remark tends to be loud enough for me to hear.  i try not to take it personally and i usually let it slide. 

today there was a lot of muttering.  and being rather irritable myself, i called him on it.

ok, charlie, let's sing this five note pattern (demonstration) 

we sing a few together

i stop, turn to him and ask him a simple question, coaxing him to think about what he physically felt as he was singing.

muttering.  i glance over at him.  he answers the question with an 'i don't know'

so i tell him what to look for.. what to feel for.  and we sing again.

this is not the first or the second or even the third time we have gone over this concept.  in teaching.. repetition is everything and i realize i seem redundant at times.  but if a student doesnt get it the first time, you repeat.. you find ways to encourage.. you find ways that make sense to the student.  i ask them questions often times, not for their sake.. but for mine.  im asking them.. how do you learn so that i may better teach you?

ok, charlie, why is it important not to shape the vowel as you sing?

muttering.  again.  'you are such a school teacher.'

it wasnt what he said that ticked me off.  it was how he said it.  an exasperated, simpering, judgemental tone. 

any other day, i would have ignored it.  but today.. im in no mood for bullshit.

what??  i shoot him a piercing glance. 

he shuffles, squirms, catches my glance and looks at his feet. 'always asking questions!  just give me the answers.  such a task master.  just tell me what to do.'

im offended.  if you dont want to think, maybe you should find another teacher.

he has been studying with me for 11 years.
'i dont want another teacher.'  he says in a somber, more reflective tone. 

alright then, let's continue.

but.. for the remainder of the lesson, every time a question formed on my lips.. i pointed out that since he didnt want to think today, i would just tell him the answer. 
i shouldnt have caved. 
i have principles. 
and i am angry. 

i have a performance tomorrow.  its draining me dry.  and i have 6 more students.. all with their own issues.. to contend with today.  i want to run.