These poems and short stories were written by students of the Oberlin Workshop, all of whom are special needs adults. My brother attends the workshop daily, and on a recent visit home, I got the chance to read some of the stories and poems written by his fellow students. The topic was love, and the lunch that day was Dominos pizza (you will soon see why I mention it-- it seems to have invaded their collective subconscious). Reading them out loud in the car to my mom and husband, I was struck by how original and laugh out loud funny these stories and poems are. And I mean no disrespect when I say they’re funny-- the humor comes from the sheer unexpectedness of the topics, clever musings and plot turns. It seems creativity isn’t limited by disability. A far cry from the standard Hallmark variety sentiments on love, these are both amusing and brilliantly ingenuous. I have copied them as exactly as I could, mimicking the spacing and structure of the originals, which are handwritten. I hope everyone enjoys them as much as I do.
Page One:
I love you and love is like the sun
It’s the best
Dominos
Pizza-- I eat it
But pizza is not good for you
It’s bad-- bad seasoning and salt
Poison,
is not good
But I don’t agree; Love is good
It is not! It’s not good!
Page Two:
One day, I came back and my love was in
Jail. 250.
She killed someone and I was
Tired of waiting for her to get out.
So I sat around and read-- yep
Until I got information from the hospital
When you find out your best friend is in the
Hospital, you are scared
I don’t know why
I love you ‘cause you’re pretty
You look sexy in a hat
56 Chevy.
Page Three:
LOVE
I finally have a girlfriend-- it’s nice to have one
She’s good like candy
Like Mike Ward’s underwear
Is inappropriate
Instead, I’ll make pizza into a heart shape
I like that because it’s cooked
I like food, I love it
I love tacos because they’re peppery and hot
They’re nice and hot and they have a long shape
And that’s good. I’m done.
Page Four:
Love is good like candy
Valentine’s Day candy
Is the worst candy because too much sugar
Love is sometimes like the sugar because it
Is always. Sweet.
Love is a grown up, like Ray
Love is you
Love is a surprise
Because it is the best first love you can have
It’s shaped like red
A hat, a red car
Pretty car, hot car, information car
Page Five:
Joey and Tyra were cats who had been in love for 25 years. One day, they found a bunch of money in a box. Ten thousand dollars! But what do cats do with money?! But Joey (and Tyra) was a bank robber. Policeman, cat. These two cats were corrupt cats. They were trying to spend the money they stole at Dominos, but people knew they’d stolen it. Since there was a snow day, they had to wait a while before getting more pizza, so they ate the money instead. They got tired of waiting.
There were monsters shaped like a flag. His heart fell apart. Their names were Tyra and Jeff Christopher. They were dancing to the flag. The monsters decided to eat some of the staff at Dominos. They got hungry and decided to eat them. So they ate everybody and left.
The lovers got married.
The End.
Page Six:
Tracy’s poem about love
Love is like a ring
You are a ring
You are this one
You are Yellow
Outside, a beautiful flower
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Sunday, August 22, 2010
My dog sucks
For some reason, ever since I moved out on my own I've wanted nothing more than to have my very own dog. Back when I lived at home, we had five dogs that were varying degrees of crazy and I hated them. They laid all over the furniture, got their hair on everything, were all terrified of storms, and stole food and constantly begged for attention. When I moved out, all I took was my cat, Phoenix, and my husband. But once a year passed, I started missing the dogs and I somehow convinced myself that if I got a dog, my dog would be super awesome and well behaved and shiny and perfect and would know all kinds of fancy tricks and compete in competitions and all kinds of crazy stuff. I really, REALLY wanted a dog, and I convinced my husband that we need to get one.
Dog adoption is crazy intense. We tried and tried, filling out forms and emailing people, and our poor friends and family members were getting phone calls from people trying to verify whether we were good pet owners or if we planned on adopting a bunch of dogs and eating them. Finally, we got approved and picked out a puppy, only to have our landlord turn him down because he was mixed with one of the restricted breeds at our complex. Frustrated, we started visiting pet shops, even though I'd always been told never to buy from a pet store. The pet store people were extremely pushy. While I was walking around the store, a lady came up and handed me a golden retriever puppy, I guess in an attempt to make me fall so deeply in love with him that I was willing to pay two thousand dollars for it. It halfway worked too, because that puppy was trained in cuteness. He put me in a cuteness coma so deep that I almost handed over the credit card.
But I regained my senses and left empty handed. Once we were home, the hubby started browsing the net for golden retriever puppies and actually stumbled upon an advertisement for three month old puppies. We called and asked if we could come and see them, and the lady on the phone was very nice and said we could come right away. It was an hour and a half drive to their crazy farm out in the middle of nowhere. When we pulled up, a zebra was wandering around the yard, and a ways away, a camel was chilling in a field with some goats and horses. We met the puppies and three hundred dollars and another hour and a half car ride later, we had our dog! We named him Apollo and I immediately started Googling his breed, which is well known for their gentleness, intelligence and aptitude for agility training.
I imagined my life with him like this:
In actuality, It's a lot more like this:
He likes to take a poop in the most random, inappropriate place he can find, like right in front of the Half Priced Books near my apartment. Whenever it happens, I never have a bag to pick it up, so I have to be all like "Ummm, I'm going to totally come back for this . . ." And I do, because I'm responsible and all that, but I know there are people watching me like "Ughhh, clean up after your dog, you hooligan."
Here is a brief history of some of my awesome dog owning experiences:
He ate my bikini top and I didn't even know, so I wore it out in public that way.
Every morning, he insists on getting in the shower. If I won't let him, he just stands to the side and sticks his head in to try and lick me while I shave my legs.
He finds these disgusting, rotting, dead baby birds on the ground and tries to eat them. I have to pull them out of his mouth while he frantically tries to swallow them. I would assume that the birds fall out of their nests during storms or something, but occasionally he finds these things that appear to be the skins of mice, which makes me wonder if there is a budding serial killer in my apartment complex.
He's also not fixed yet, so when he's not humping the couch pillows into submission, he out hunting for tail. His favorite dog in the complex is a tiny Yorkie named Chloey who is the size of his mouth. She is very flirtatious with him even though there is no conceivable way that they could ever get it on. I hope.
Dog adoption is crazy intense. We tried and tried, filling out forms and emailing people, and our poor friends and family members were getting phone calls from people trying to verify whether we were good pet owners or if we planned on adopting a bunch of dogs and eating them. Finally, we got approved and picked out a puppy, only to have our landlord turn him down because he was mixed with one of the restricted breeds at our complex. Frustrated, we started visiting pet shops, even though I'd always been told never to buy from a pet store. The pet store people were extremely pushy. While I was walking around the store, a lady came up and handed me a golden retriever puppy, I guess in an attempt to make me fall so deeply in love with him that I was willing to pay two thousand dollars for it. It halfway worked too, because that puppy was trained in cuteness. He put me in a cuteness coma so deep that I almost handed over the credit card.
But I regained my senses and left empty handed. Once we were home, the hubby started browsing the net for golden retriever puppies and actually stumbled upon an advertisement for three month old puppies. We called and asked if we could come and see them, and the lady on the phone was very nice and said we could come right away. It was an hour and a half drive to their crazy farm out in the middle of nowhere. When we pulled up, a zebra was wandering around the yard, and a ways away, a camel was chilling in a field with some goats and horses. We met the puppies and three hundred dollars and another hour and a half car ride later, we had our dog! We named him Apollo and I immediately started Googling his breed, which is well known for their gentleness, intelligence and aptitude for agility training.
I imagined my life with him like this:
In actuality, It's a lot more like this:
He likes to take a poop in the most random, inappropriate place he can find, like right in front of the Half Priced Books near my apartment. Whenever it happens, I never have a bag to pick it up, so I have to be all like "Ummm, I'm going to totally come back for this . . ." And I do, because I'm responsible and all that, but I know there are people watching me like "Ughhh, clean up after your dog, you hooligan."
Here is a brief history of some of my awesome dog owning experiences:
He ate my bikini top and I didn't even know, so I wore it out in public that way.
Every morning, he insists on getting in the shower. If I won't let him, he just stands to the side and sticks his head in to try and lick me while I shave my legs.
He finds these disgusting, rotting, dead baby birds on the ground and tries to eat them. I have to pull them out of his mouth while he frantically tries to swallow them. I would assume that the birds fall out of their nests during storms or something, but occasionally he finds these things that appear to be the skins of mice, which makes me wonder if there is a budding serial killer in my apartment complex.
He's also not fixed yet, so when he's not humping the couch pillows into submission, he out hunting for tail. His favorite dog in the complex is a tiny Yorkie named Chloey who is the size of his mouth. She is very flirtatious with him even though there is no conceivable way that they could ever get it on. I hope.
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