to bob like the birds on the sea
This week is a tumult. Just got out of a two and a half hour meeting with bird-lady who has chewed me up, digested me completely, and pooped me out the other end. Jesus! What a dagger through my heart (pulling Dolly in) when bird-lady says "I'm being really hard on you because I want you to be a good writer." But I *am* a good writer, bird-lady!! I am soothed, however, when she follows up by saying "I wouldn't give you such a hard time if I didn't think you were worth it. You're doing remarkably well so far (remarkably well!!) and I want you to work for me this summer and I want you to be really, really good." (And did I mention she's smiling while she's saying this? Looking at me with a twinkle in her little wizened eye that says something like "ahh, a worthy protege!" Or maybe I'm reading too much in...)
To ride the waves of her criticism like the birds I noticed this weekend, sitting in the sea, riding the enormous waves up and down again, sometimes swept under, only to reappear immediately, unscathed. I am not the brief I turned in, which was critiqued out of all recognition. I am not the "annoying" mistakes she pointed out. I am not the passive-voice, the fucked-up formatting, the misspelled words (misspelled words!! what's wrong with me??). I am not those things. I am me. Learning how to work for bird-lady.
I am luckier than 99% of my peers because I have a job waiting for me in the field making *great* money (considering I won't even have graduated yet when bird-lady employs me this summer). I'm not scrambling and floudering and going to dehumanizing cattle-call group interviews for big firms, trying to prostitute myself to people who don't give a tiny shit about me, who will only look at my suit, my accessories and my class rank. Fuck that. I'm the luckiest kid in school right now, bird-lady's completely unbridled criticism aside.
Not to mention, I just spent five days on the coast on what I'm beginning to consider my "spring break" -- enjoying a seminar in no way related to school or law and having a wonderful and relaxing time with a woman I now consider my girlfriend. How can I complain?
To ride the waves of her criticism like the birds I noticed this weekend, sitting in the sea, riding the enormous waves up and down again, sometimes swept under, only to reappear immediately, unscathed. I am not the brief I turned in, which was critiqued out of all recognition. I am not the "annoying" mistakes she pointed out. I am not the passive-voice, the fucked-up formatting, the misspelled words (misspelled words!! what's wrong with me??). I am not those things. I am me. Learning how to work for bird-lady.
I am luckier than 99% of my peers because I have a job waiting for me in the field making *great* money (considering I won't even have graduated yet when bird-lady employs me this summer). I'm not scrambling and floudering and going to dehumanizing cattle-call group interviews for big firms, trying to prostitute myself to people who don't give a tiny shit about me, who will only look at my suit, my accessories and my class rank. Fuck that. I'm the luckiest kid in school right now, bird-lady's completely unbridled criticism aside.
Not to mention, I just spent five days on the coast on what I'm beginning to consider my "spring break" -- enjoying a seminar in no way related to school or law and having a wonderful and relaxing time with a woman I now consider my girlfriend. How can I complain?
posted by reasonably prudent poet at 4:00 PM
1 Comments:
to bob,
i like the birds on the sea
i like you
i like bird lady
she's lucky
and i like your girlfriend
she's a winner
ned
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