"Mother of the Lifetime"
moldy fridge. defensive. criticizing how my friends influence me, they don't know shit. Asian redneck. Her reins of Oppression and Obedience equates to being a good son.
Tuesday, November 10, 2015
Friday, November 6, 2015
Storytelling
All I could think about was the storytelling class. Eat, sleep, storytelling. Ok, maybe its not to the extend but I was and am excited about the storytelling class, a class that I signed up for in hopes of being a good communicator especially when from what it seems girls are attracted to guys who can communicate. Driving an hour in traffic, I felt like Neo from Matrix..excited, antsy to whether which pill (road) to take. If I take the blue pill, the story ends, I wake up in bed at the age of 80 living by myself but if I were to take the red pill, I could possibly see how deep the rabbit hole goes.
Not sure where the rabbit hole goes, I passed by the location twice. Finally coming to the realization that the storytelling class was on the other side of the street. I parked my car by the residential area, seeing that the parking lot was like a Chinese supermarket's parking lot.
As I was walking to the class, I noticed a trendy coffee house, the ones you can have study sessions or take a girl out on a date. The tangerine walls and the lights in the shop reminds of Saute Culinary Academy how its warm and welcoming.
At class, we introduced ourselves and gave a three minute speech about our names. It appears everyone in the class mentioned how they initially hated their names. In the back of my mind, I was thinking maybe we should change the title of the class to "I hate my names" Club. A three minute drill was like pulling teeth. My heart was pounding fast and my mental filter was on. I told how my name came from my grandfather's initial and how I cringe when people butcher my name from Phil-lip or Phillips. I told the class that I was sensitive to people emphasizing the "lip" in Phil-lip since I had nigga lips (or what Ken describes dick sucking lips).
We listened to some stories on the instructor's iPad. I'm feeling antsy (it's not that I was excited) but sitting in old matinee theater seats was not comfortable. The wooden backing, the carpet seating, I felt confined, I had to cross my legs constantly to make the seating more comfortable. I was so tempted to take off my shoes and sit cross-legged on the seat. Only problem is that I have to take off my shoes. As my mind drifted back and forth from listening the stories, I became fixated on the cookies by the water bottles. I could imagine the sweet, chewy goodness bringing an orgasmic sensation.
The instructor sensed it was time for break so I decided to head over to the coffee shop for some food. The instructor gave us another 3 minute drill of favorite shoes. I completely froze, I started touching my face, and could not think of anything to say. When the time was up, the instructor gave me a hug and said freezing is a gift. She mentioned that I should acknowledge that I am freezing and just say things without a filter (even if its how I hate speaking in public).
She then gave us acronym.
For those reading, you are probably thinking why I actually paid for this bullshit when you have been nailing this over my head dozens of times or maybe I should not pay for a class when I can't afford it. This class seems interesting, more interesting that the Pick Up bullshit. This class so far, works on honest occurrences and not worrying about people think.
The instructor noted that I should not care what other people think, she gave us another 3 minute drill. And this time, it was "The first time..." I spoke about the first time I made pasta how even though there are 3 main ingredients to making pasta, I fucked up the process numerous times. Either adding too much water which makes the pasta gooey or not enough water which had a lot of floury residue. The instructor was impressed with my story, her Scottish origin wanted to throw her phone at me for a job well done. If Scottish tradition is to congratulate with violence, I hate to imagine how Scottish will be like when they are pissed off. Then again, I would be nice to imagine a sober Scottish.
Not sure where the rabbit hole goes, I passed by the location twice. Finally coming to the realization that the storytelling class was on the other side of the street. I parked my car by the residential area, seeing that the parking lot was like a Chinese supermarket's parking lot.
As I was walking to the class, I noticed a trendy coffee house, the ones you can have study sessions or take a girl out on a date. The tangerine walls and the lights in the shop reminds of Saute Culinary Academy how its warm and welcoming.
At class, we introduced ourselves and gave a three minute speech about our names. It appears everyone in the class mentioned how they initially hated their names. In the back of my mind, I was thinking maybe we should change the title of the class to "I hate my names" Club. A three minute drill was like pulling teeth. My heart was pounding fast and my mental filter was on. I told how my name came from my grandfather's initial and how I cringe when people butcher my name from Phil-lip or Phillips. I told the class that I was sensitive to people emphasizing the "lip" in Phil-lip since I had nigga lips (or what Ken describes dick sucking lips).
We listened to some stories on the instructor's iPad. I'm feeling antsy (it's not that I was excited) but sitting in old matinee theater seats was not comfortable. The wooden backing, the carpet seating, I felt confined, I had to cross my legs constantly to make the seating more comfortable. I was so tempted to take off my shoes and sit cross-legged on the seat. Only problem is that I have to take off my shoes. As my mind drifted back and forth from listening the stories, I became fixated on the cookies by the water bottles. I could imagine the sweet, chewy goodness bringing an orgasmic sensation.
The instructor sensed it was time for break so I decided to head over to the coffee shop for some food. The instructor gave us another 3 minute drill of favorite shoes. I completely froze, I started touching my face, and could not think of anything to say. When the time was up, the instructor gave me a hug and said freezing is a gift. She mentioned that I should acknowledge that I am freezing and just say things without a filter (even if its how I hate speaking in public).
She then gave us acronym.
Theme: why does it
matter,
Arc:
who are you at the beginning and who are at the end.
Stakes: why should I
care, what is the risk, (how is
Honestly, tell the
truth
Ending, know your
ending, be clear with your ending. If you get lost,
For those reading, you are probably thinking why I actually paid for this bullshit when you have been nailing this over my head dozens of times or maybe I should not pay for a class when I can't afford it. This class seems interesting, more interesting that the Pick Up bullshit. This class so far, works on honest occurrences and not worrying about people think.
The instructor noted that I should not care what other people think, she gave us another 3 minute drill. And this time, it was "The first time..." I spoke about the first time I made pasta how even though there are 3 main ingredients to making pasta, I fucked up the process numerous times. Either adding too much water which makes the pasta gooey or not enough water which had a lot of floury residue. The instructor was impressed with my story, her Scottish origin wanted to throw her phone at me for a job well done. If Scottish tradition is to congratulate with violence, I hate to imagine how Scottish will be like when they are pissed off. Then again, I would be nice to imagine a sober Scottish.
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