Class resumes

I taught my creative writing class today for detoxing addicts. It had been a while - I had lost my three classes every six weeks gig due to being suddenly employed. But now I work from home, and have been begging for my spot back. No can do, but I am subbing once and a while. To my surprise, M, a music writer I had hung with back in the day through others worked at the facility and joined our class. My first exercise got off to a shaky start - they didn't quite get the rules, and I started making self-conscious quips that exposed my insecurity in the situation. A round man, round stomach, big round blue eyes, a round red face, a round, soft demeanor, who told us straight off that he had heard awful news earlier that day, reassured me. "No, this is great. Let's do this!" You write a sentence then fold the paper over, then right another sentience that the person next to you can see and they write a sentence, ect. Anyway, a half hour later we unraveled our creased papers, and laughed at farting goats and dying Santa's.

I find that there are starting to be types. The round man was the guy who always reassures me in what I do, wants me to like him, and wants me to feel comfortable as I'm obviously a fish out of water. And there's always a guy that resents me.

Next up,they had to write about the first time they drove. A man with a face like a fox, who was covered with a thin coat of sweat and obviously fighting back shakes, wrote and wrote and made us wait. He read his out loud then stared down at the paper for a second, smiling at the memory, and also smiling at what he had wrote. We all congratulated him on having a neat story to tell.

Another guy, a series of gashes on his face, wanted to rewrite his, wanted to skip his turn. I was like, "OK," and was ready to move on, but fox-face encouraged him, "K'mon man, read it, it's ok." He relented, and read his out loud, self-conscious, telling it as he went, not making much sense. When he was done, I smiled at him and moved on, thinking that my "that was awesome" would sound fake and patronizing. But M said it, and the guy looked at him and laughed and said "Yeah it was crazy!"

When the class was over, and we were moving the tables back, I started to feel my blood pressure drop - it happens every once and a while where my fingers and toes get ice cold, and I start to shiver. "Is it just me, or is it cold in here?" I asked the room. "It's just you," said the man with the gashes, bluntly, like something falling on my foot, and looked at M and raised his eyebrows.

I totally accept that I'm from another world from these guys. For some reason, when I get into that room I go all flakey. Round man, of course, thanked me, and told me it took his mind off of the terrible news of this morning. Gash just left without looking at me.