January 16, 2005

• Seamus Heaney, Spinach Salad, and a world of “What-ever!”

  My partner and I had a great dinner last night. Over a delicious, fancy salad made with the assistance of our awesome new food processor (props to my mother-in-law for that ultimate Christmas gift) and a cheap-o bottle of Zinfandel, I was privy to one of the coolest phenomenon’s of the happily committed relationship: after seven years of togetherness, we learned new things about each other. It really is amazing what can happen when you turn the damned TV off—actual people are much more interesting than we give them credit for.

  Anyhow, somehow we got to talking about our middle school experiences, and how unbearably odd we felt at that age. While my partner was never an actively pursued target, he claims this is only because he was too much of a nerd for anyone to care about. His school pictures from these times are so very different from the shaggy haired, rock concert-attending writer I fell for as a teenager. As a boy, he was a short, skinny, smirking kid with self-proclaimed “Captain Planet” hair (for those who have trouble evoking the image of this dated cartoon character, imagine a stiff, spiked, short arrangement of hair slathered in Dep gel) and pathetically oversized, plastic rimmed glasses. Defensive and taking himself all too seriously, he took cover in bratty sarcasm. He said I would have made fun of him if I knew him then. This is likely—the only target for my childhood nastiness was those who took themselves too seriously.

  For example, in grammar school, there was this girl named Heather who though she was the cats meow, when in fact, she was a rancid bitch. A snarl was perpetually on her face, as if an invisible string connected her upper lip to her left nostril. For some reason (fear, most likely) this was the most popular girl in school. Refusing to accept the status quo, and thinking it hilarious that she gave so much thought to her superiority, I would counter her “What-ever’s” with two syllable words that were chosen specifically for their random meaninglessness. “Wood-chuck!” I would say, eyebrows raised, hand on jutting hip, “Beef-carcass!” I would roll my eyes and do my very best valley girl impression. It was a wonder she never hauled off and punched me in the face.

  Because I unfailingly stood up to the Heather’s of our school, I always had many friends, but I had an equal amount of enemies. I infuriated people for being uncompromising when it came to embracing my strange sense of humor. And really, who could blame those who taunted me? After all, what does school teach if not conformity?

  It wasn’t just the peers who deemed themselves authorities that I rebelled against, it was also teachers, administrators—anyone who was infringing on our freedom of speech, or inhibiting interesting, meaningful learning. One teacher in particular was very fond of assigning “copy changes.” Until my happy dinner conversation, I had all but forgotten this pointless exercise. Once I was reminded, I remember my burning hatred for the conformity of it all. For those of you who have forgotten about the “copy change,” it is an insipid school assignment where one must take a poem already in existence, oftentimes specifically assigned, and then re-write it using the same form and tone. So basically, it takes the work of another artist, shits all over it, all while warping the message of the student as they try to stuff their words in an ill-fitting form. Hideous.

  To counter this situation, I would satirize the assignment by writing ridiculous copy-changes about the most absurd of topics. It should have been quite clear to my teachers that I was ridiculing their assignments, but instead I was patted on the back. I received comments such as, “unusual point of view-and probably very publishable! A lot of current poetry rings familiar!” To illustrate the hilarity of these comments, I want to share with you a copy-change, written years ago in a stifling high school English class. The assignment was to copy change the Seamus Heaney poem “Personal Helicon,” and here is the crazy stuff that flowed from my pen. If you are reading this at work, beware—you might laugh out loud. It’s pretty twisted….
  ______________________________________________________________________
  Strong Enough for a Man, but Living as a Woman/Cow

  As a man they could not keep me from dressing in women’s clothing
  And often in old beef carcasses, too.
  I craved the dank smell of both, hugging my skin, the warmth
  Of body spandex, and baby calf ribs.

  A dress, on my hanger, with a delicate wrap.
  I savor the temptress crimson
  And the scooped, plummeting neckline.
  So low, even Jennifer Lopez wouldn’t dare.

  A beef carcass, hanging in my deep-freeze
  Waiting lonely for me.
  Punctured by the cold vicious meat hook
  Waiting for a tender touch.

  Others have such fetishes, private to themselves
  Indulging in precious sin. But no one
  Has mastered their hang up like me.
  Drag Queen/Cow is my existence.

  I graze in fields, living as a cow would
  On Tuesdays and Thursdays, and on other days,
  I am female, myself the only bearer of my secret,
  The only bearer of my bliss.
  ________________________________________________________________________

  With luck, I haven’t alienated my audience at this point, but if I have, I beg you to reconsider. After all, if you can’t have a laugh at the nonsensical and warped in this world, then you just might be taking yourself a bit too seriously. The following is my sincere wish for the popular and pretentious Heather, for my daft but well-meaning high school teachers, for the world at large: I sincerely hope that all people can feel comfortable enough in their own skin to let their guard down, throw their head back, and laugh at the world, at themselves. It’s the best thing in this world next to having a partner with whom, after seven years of commitment; dinner at home is just as fun as your first date.
  

  p.s.
  **For those of you who are unfamiliar with the brilliance of Seamus Heaney, please don’t use my sardonic little copy-change to inform you about his Nobel Prize winning literature and poetry. Check out http://nobelprize.org/literature/laureates/1995/heaney-bio.html to quench your thirst for knowledge. Thanks for reading!

  • 7:23 pm
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