cygnoir.net

cygnoir.net

friends happen

It came time to hand my workshop piece around and I didn’t flinch, run screaming out of the room, or throw myself desperately at the mercy of my peers, wailing, “BE NICE TO ME! I NEED YOUR VALIDATION!”

And I didn’t even feel like doing any of these things.

What’s wrong with me?

Actually, I think it had something to do with sitting next to my new friend M this time, who, after my marked silence during the first piece’s critique, actually wrote “chime in” on a piece of his paper in my line of sight.

I was getting around to it, sheesh. Pesky git. (Okay, so I appreciated the nudge.)

A comment I gave a fellow student on a questionable metaphor will be forever immortalized in a segue as “Speaking of dolphin penises …” My workshop instructor had some difficulty distinguishing between me and M when referring to our comments, which means I already have an evil twin who is possibly truly evil. That’s a nice change. For once I get to be the good one.

We sat outside the back of the library for a little while before I had to catch my ferry and watched the deer step carefully in and out of shadows. M proclaimed his vanity but I admitted to nothing, although a website of over a thousand pages hints at some sort of vain tendency, doesn’t it. Shucks.

I don’t know how I feel about making a new friend, or an evil twin, but there isn’t much to be done about it. Some people I’m immediately comfortable around, even if that person has a portfolio of angsty-boy poetry and blubbering, drama-inducing fangirls and a wristwatch with a see-through part so I can watch the innards tick. Friends just happen, and if you’re lucky, they keep happening.

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I acknowledge that I live and work on stolen Cowlitz, Clackamas, Atfalati, and Kalapuya land.
I give respect and reverence to those who came before me.

∞