January 7, 2014 Day 2

Writing Style Attempt: The Prompt

 I am from…

 

I am from a tiny place inside my mother’s body that can only be seen through a sonogram or with a knife.

I am from a microscopic tadpole shaped protein that my father gave to her.

I am from a house that despite the street name it was built on, has only dirt and no lawn.

I am from a culture created by immigrants that were scared to embrace anything but what was new.

I am from a fear planted in my father’s head by my grandmother that life was not worth living unless you were someone rich and famous.

I am from a habit of two tall boys of steel reserve before bed and walking around the house in only a t-shirt until 3pm.

I am from a pattern of talking to your children instead of your spouse about your feelings.

I am from a tradition of relying on a religion to dictate sexual practices.

I am from a routine of never being quite on time.

I am from a strength of always proclaiming love to the people you truly do.

 

I am from a first friendship that started as an intimacy but became a game of ownership.

I am from a young bond that was broken and birthed a 17 year search for something to its likeness.

I am from an initial alliance that bloomed into the deepest platonic connection I’ve ever had with a girl.

I am from a family filled with boys and thus a comfort with male over female.

I am from an uncomfortable awareness that I am, myself, female.

 

 

I am from a coping mechanism that developed when I was 12, diminished my quality of life and never let me go.

I am from a mountain of questions that never got answered.

I am from a late formation of personal opinions.

            And a constant renovation of them.

 

I am from the wreckage of many romantic relationships, including ones that were not mine.

I am from my own curiosity and my own stubbornness.

I am from being told what to do and never saying yes while never saying no.

I am from a studio apartment off Broadway that kept me prisoner in hopes of keeping me accountable for my actions.

 

I am from a book about a child convinced that the dinosaur bones in her local museum came alive at night. She was my hero.

I am from an animated movie from Japan that had some sort of rose theme and flute and I can see the main character’s face (kinda?) but that I will never find again.

I am from the Dick Van Dyke Show and the lessons it taught me about what people want to see.

I am from insomnia and the late night infomercials that made me so bored I learned how to touch myself.

I am from playing with my Barbie’s for much longer than my friends because drama was much more realistic in plastic.

I am from a love of theatre that started with the most accessible and ended in the most obscure.

I am from reading every Beckett writing I can find.

I am from being mistaken as a stripper from his friend's bachelor's party by Jose Rivera at the opening of his show I flew thousands of miles to see only to hear, “Keep going, it’ll happen.”

I am from binge watching Mad Men on Netflix.

I am from an amazing review for my acting and never getting paid.

 

I am from coffee shops and movement pants in Seattle where I learned to be a friend, a writer, a flirt, a student, an artist, a sexual martyr, a jealous monster, and a little more willing to try.

I am from storefront theatres, third wave coffee and the EL in Chicago where I learned to be a playwright and relearned how to act. Where I learned how to drink coffee and beer right, endure the coldest of winters and live completely on my own happily.

I am from a mile wide township in New Jersey that I never loved but was somehow the backdrop for me finding an honest love myself.

I am from perfect weather and beautiful beaches minutes from the border of Mexico where a whole culture I could have embraced existed beyond my short reach. I am from this very place that made me hopeful yet discouraged, this place made me tap dance on my mother’s coffee table and never consider death.

I am from the Pacific Ocean which gave me terror, release and kept me from ever going too far.

I am from that house on Lawn View Drive that balked at its name and raised a small child to be me.

 

-ClassyB