Coco introduces herself to the saddest song ever
Also, will acronyms date my work? IDK, this is why I need practice...
I’m going to introduce myself to you today in one long stream of consciousness. While I listen to a song that dominated my teenage years. Not sure where it’s going to go, but let’s discover that together shall we?
But first, coffee (jk, ew)
But first, the song. Hit it, emo Coco:
Hi,
I was born in Toronto to Canadian parents. They are Canadian because that’s what their passports say, the end.
Guess what? People give zero fucks about that answer.
Ok, but where are you really from?
**Taking a big breath, and on the exhale…*
“Ok, my grandparents on my mom’s side are from Ireland and South Africa. I was close with my Irish grandmother who we called Nanny, but never met my South African granddad who Nanny divorced before I was born. On his death bed my mom asked if he wanted to meet us and he said no, rolled over and died (or something like that). My dad immigrated here when he was two, and his parents are from China—”
Ahhh yeah, yeah I knew it, some kind of Asian. Jim and I over here guessed Japanese.
“Anyways, my dad’s parents didn’t speak much English but we were clo—”
**Person asking about where I’m from walks away/ changes subject**
Usually if the person isn’t a complete jerkoff, they won’t walk away, but instead they’ll stay to talk about their business dealings in China, or that time they took a gap year in Shanghai assuming that I actually give a shit. Then after a meandering five minute foray into what they think of US-China relations they’ll connect back with me and ask if I speak any Chinese, to which I’ll manage to get out the tip of the letter ‘n’ of ‘no,’ before they interrupt me with a “NI HAO?” and a pat me-on-the-back smile.
This is the part where I am supposed to say something impeccably witty that safeguards my integrity while teaching Jim and friend over here a lesson. Yeah, that’s absolutely not how it happens in real life. I usually just say “Nope, no Chinese over here,” they look down at their shoes, and clear their throats awkwardly, knowing our time is coming to an anti-climatic end. We all walk away a little more disappointed than we were when we shook hands (remember doing that?).
Ok song’s over. Wow, if you actually played that while reading the above, maybe go grab a walk or some sunshine.
Upon Reflection…
After this mini exercise I’ve now re-read and cleaned up, I see how little of me is actually in it. Next week I will try to restrain that chip running wild on my shoulder and be a little more generous in sharing who I was/am.
Plus, it’s becoming clear that a big hurdle lies ahead in writing this book. I need to balance my cynic with some levity, and not all in the way of sarcasm (which I find both exhausting as a reader, and really fun as a writer). This will be especially difficult as I get to more mature and tough scenes from my past.
Homework assignment to myself:
Read more David Sedaris.
Find similar authors to Sedaris who can turn darker subject matters into a reading experience that doesn’t leave you wanting to crawl into a hole and cry until that hole fills up, leaving you to drown in your own tears. Hello hyperbole my old friend.
Final notes + inspiration to take with you:
I am reminded of the film (based on the book), Perks of Being a Wallflower. A super fucked up thing is revealed near the end of the story. But, I still left the theatre back in 2012 feeling pretty damn good and that’s all thanks to the last scene (aka Charlie’s Letter). This scene performs a great balancing act by sticking its hand down your throat and lifting your soul back out of your body. Ok homework assignment con’t: stop overusing hyperbole.
Watch it:
Read it:
I don’t know if I will have the time to write anymore letters
because I might be too busy trying to participate.
So if this does end up being the last letter,
I just want you to know that I was in a bad place before I started high school
and you helped me.Even if you didn’t know what I was talking about
or know someone who’s gone through it.
You made me not feel alone.Because I know there are people who say all these things don’t happen.
And there are people who forget what it’s like to be sixteen when they turn seventeen.
And know these will all be stories someday
and our pictures will become old photographs
and we’ll all become somebody’s mom or dad.
But right now these moments are not stories.This is happening.
I am here and I am looking at her
and she is so beautiful.
I can see it.
This one moment when you know you’re not a sad story,
you are alive.
And you stand up and see the lights on buildings
and everything that makes you wonder,
when you were listening to that song
on that drive with the people you love most in this world.And in this moment, I swear, we are infinite.
Can you help me out here? Name a writer who is great at balancing dark subject matter with a lightness you enjoy consuming…
That’s all for now. Thanks for sticking it out to the end! If you like what you’re reading here, please…