My blog has no theme.
A theme would have been ideal – like Adorable Shit My Kid Says (don’t have kid, been done)
or All Things Smurf (I only owned around 12, so not qualified)
or Celebrities And TV Characters On Injectable Or Snortable Drugs (hmmm, not bad, actually).
I’m sure somewhere out there is the perfect organizing principle for this blog. So if you want to know why I put it up with zero theme, ask me how I feel about air conditioning. And ants.
Until 6th grade, the sound of the air conditioner in our apartment always gave me the happy “school’s out, no homework” feeling. But since 6th grade, and to this day when I visit my parents and they have the AC humming, it gives me the “school’s out for everyone but me and I’m an asshole and I hate ants” chill.
6th grade was the Year of the Ant Report. Our science teacher, George (liberal school – first names), assigned us a project: write a factual essay or creative piece using what we’d learned about ants.
“Creative” was the fatal word.
Once he gave us that option, the pressure was on. I needed to whip up a story full of complex characters and riveting twists and turns, against a backdrop of communal behavior and exoskeletons.
We had two weeks to write it. So for two weeks, I thought about ants. I thought about them over pop tarts, during math class, in gym while I got pelted with pink rubber dodge balls, all through Bat Man at 4:30, and until I went to bed. I couldn’t come up with a good story idea, so I couldn’t start the project.
The day it was due, I faked sick.
When I “recovered” and went back to school, George didn’t say anything about my unwritten ant report. Even when he handed back the graded ant reports to everyone but me. I rejoiced, with caution. Was it possible my teacher didn’t notice my missing assignment? Had I pulled off the greatest crime of all?
When my report card came in the mail just before summer, I got nervous. But under Science, in George’s stubby handwriting, it said: “Laura’s report on ants remains outstanding.”
Outstanding? Suh-weet. Not only did he think I’d written it; he thought I’d done a superb job!
Then my mother explained to me what “outstanding” meant, and why it was paired with a grade of Incomplete.
“Incomplete” equalled “Laura no move on to 7th grade.”
Outstanding!
My parents, George the teacher, Gene the principal, and I met to sit in a circle on metal chairs and talk about my nonexistent, or “outstanding”, work. While I cried and snotted all over my terrycloth jumpsuit, we agreed that I would come in to school every day during summer vacation until I had finished a science project.
Instead of an ant report, they let me make a 3-D model of the inner ear. What a relief: no creative genius required – just accuracy and a steady hand. But that didn’t make it less humiliating that my friends, who had surely written clichéd and unimaginative ant reports, got to strap on their roller skates while I sat in an empty classroom, pressing a wad of pink modeling clay into the shape of a cochlea.
I’ve finally figured out that a whole lotta nothing comes to me when I sit around thinking. Well, sometimes I get good ideas in the shower. But as a rule, I don’t figure out how I’m going to do anything until I f*cking do it.
I’ve had my thumb up my doodle-do since the infancy of blogs, saying “I should have a blog, I should have a blog.” I know people who talk about launching their own fashion line, or building a school in the Congo one day. But what’s more pathetic than talking about starting a blog? I repeat, a blog?? In the scheme of things, it’s an ant report.
Even my cousin’s kid has had one since she was five.
So here it is, theme or no theme. It may not be perfect, but at least it’s not “outstanding.”
I thoroughly enjoyed reading your story. You have such a feel-good way with words. I’m encouraged to keep blogging and bring in some childhood stories to have fun with it like it seems you do.
Oh, s#!t! You’ve been this great since post #1?! I guess that’s to be expected. Love this, Laura. And Jesus, that’s cruel punishment for a missing report. That would never happen with today’s snow plow parents.
It’s amazing that we can actually create a brand around procrastination. Nice to know that our flaws can be branded.
Just clicked through from your email newsletter. Love it. And needed to read this!
Thank you for sharing, from a fellow lifelong procrastinator.
Howz that fashion line coming along?
Howz that fashion line coming along?
Really useful post, thanks a lot. Nice blog as well! I might start my own blog shortly, do you have any advice? Whats the best host to use, WordPress or Blog engine? Kyle Asante
Your TERRY CLOTH jump suit???!!! I’d fork over some serious cash for a candid snapshot of that.
Don’t feel bad– for years my grandmother sent me argyle sweater vests for Christmas which I was compelled to wear. And nothing says ‘nerd’ in 10-story letters like one of those little numbers. XX
Oh, actually, “one of my terrycloth jumpsuits” would have been more accurate. Since I lived in them, there must be a photo somewhere.
Who said I felt bad?
talkingshrimp.com is very informative. The article is very professionally written. I enjoy reading talkingshrimp.com every day.
Bruce, whether or not I start my fashion line is up to America to decide. I hope that the judges see my passion.
Nancy, that’s the most re-f*cking-warding and en-f*cking-couraging comment i could hope for! Thank you. I can’t wait to write more so you can read more.
xoL
No, it’s not outstanding… it’s fan-f*cking-tastic!
Laura, you’re my new favorite blogger — or maybe my favorite new blogger? Either way, can’t wait to read some more! xo
So Laura, when are you finally going to start your own fashion line?
Thanks for the comments, ladies! Jessica, thank you for being my first-ever stumbler.
Yeah, I went to a no-parameter school. Literally, there were no walls inside. It was called an “open classroom” system. I would have written a paper on Flintstones, too. Which just made me think of a paper I did hand in, and a blog post I need to write about it. You’ll know when you see it.
Have I told you lately how much I love you. NICE on getting this shin-dig going mamma. keep it rockin 😉
I was lucky enough to have a teacher in the 8th grade who taught us to put our own parameters on projects (which did lead to a paper the next year about the Flintstones’ [the cartoon] as a theme, but still…) because otherwise, I would have suffered creative paralysis all through high school–you’re so right, when we put the pressure on to be “creative” it’s all too tempting to think instead of get stuff done.
Delighted to have stumbled on your blog in its infancy!
hey laura, great story.. its like this twist at the end when u figure out what outstanding means.. really fun. and a great reminder to just do it already!- my blog and website also remains outstanding-
you’ve inspired me.. and intimidated! keep up the good work. love the website.
Great story! I totally didn’t follow at first and when I read your teacher’s comment I also thought he meant “outstanding” in the good way, haha! Keep up the blogging!
Thanks, Laura. Yes, it was a cruel way to tell a kid she still owed an assignment.
You have just christened my blog. I can’t think of a higher honor than to have my first comment be from you.