The Mathematics of Glamour

I suppose writing exercises improve one’s technique, but it usually makes me question certain aspects of my life.  Let’s take the first free-writing topic in my creative class this evening:

Write about the last time you got into trouble.

Failure.  Blank canvas.  I don’t get into trouble.  I haven’t.  Why haven’t I?  Total nerd.  New weekend goal:  Get into trouble.

And the second free-writing subject:

Write about the first awkward moment that pops into your head.

My head swells with clumsy conversations, inelegant exchanges, and floundering fumbles.  And this is only from the past week.  Names, faces, and a wave of anxiety collectively hit me and quickly fade into comic relief.

I like awkward.  I live by it.  It’s the only thing that really makes sense to me.  I’d much rather live my days in a sticky dish over a polished one.  By definition, awkward means difficult to deal with.  Sounds like a challenge!

Linger outside of your comfort zone.  Get out there, squirm, and learn.

If you’re reading this and you’re a bit clumsy at times, send me your best story.  If you’re a troublemaker, I can learn a thing or two.  Teach me your ways.