Shocked by a Stranger

Buzzing along the conduit of electricity that is our hallway system at UVU, I was shocked when a comment was directed at me.

"Hey, I saw you earlier."

Quickly redirecting and reprogramming, my mind switching from look-down-keep-moving mode to acknowledge-fellow-human-being mode, I turned to take in the speaker.  He was a guy roughly my age and height, latino, and a complete stranger.

"Oh," I said dumbly.  "Hey."  I rejoined the traffic stream of bright-minded college students, but a quick glance to my left found that he had too.

Matching my speed, he continued, "You were walking in the hall.  A few hours ago."

"Oh."

"Do you always have class this late?"

"Yeah, I'm on campus until  6:45 usually.  Get here at 11:30."

"Oh neat.  What are you studying?"

Pausing slightly to wait for a gap, we turned left at the corner and entered another hallway, this one less populated.

"I'm an English major," I said.

"Spanish Education."  He smiled as he said it.  His teeth, flashing like a beacon, were perfect.

"K, well, I'm heading this way," I said, turning abruptly into a side hall.

"Oh... See you around!" he called after me.

I had no need for the hallway I took and after waiting a reasonable amount of time, I reversed my direction and came out the way I came.  Some more reprogramming was necessary, so I shook my head, pulled out my phone and sent my husband, Brian, a message.

"I love you, honey.  Moomoos."

And sensing my need for a response, he replied seconds later.

"I love you too."

Then I lost service in the winding underbelly of campus.

Limon=Lemon

"Your last name, Limon, it means lemon, right?"

"No," says Zeek.  "It means lime."

"Isn't that lima?" I ask him.

"I'm Mexican; I would know."

I'm pretty sure I'm right, but I let it slide.  At the Mexican restaurant, days later, Tara brings it up again, smiling coyly over her margarita.  The margaritas there are pretty strong, and that's mostly why we go, although I enjoy my pork and bean burrito.  The service is pretty good too.  The waitress smiles warmly and puts her hand on my shoulder.  "Weren't you just here on Saturday?" she asks.  Wow, she even remembers us... and yes, yes we were.

Meanwhile, Zeek's cheeks are flushing.  "You guys are wrong!  It means lime."

"Then how do you say lemon in Spanish?" Tara asks.

"Lemon," says Zeek, laughing, licking the salted rim of his glass.

As we tipsily pay our check, I say to the waitress, "Can I ask you a question?  How do you say lemon in Spanish?"

"It's limon," she says.

"Told ya so!" Tara and I both shout out to Zeek, turning to smack him but hitting each other instead.

"Where did he go?" she asks.  "He was right here!"

Zeek reappears a second later, he had returned to the table to leave a tip and perhaps mourn the fact that I was right and he was wrong.  Zeek's last name, like the car he drives, means lemon.

Stage Fright

Sydney came over after all and we had a great time.  She shot some footage of Brian and I in the kitchen (Brian gave me the simple task of washing vegetables) and then we sat on the couch and she asked us a few questions.  Brian did most of the talking of course.  I just nodded a lot and acted uncomfortable.  Stupid camera.  And when I did speak, I sounded like a rambling fool.  Luckily the project she's working on is only a minute and a half, because I'm not quite ready for my Barbara Walters interview.

She ended up staying a little longer than planned, saying goodbye several times before inevitably settling back in again.  Good conversation has that effect on people.  We talked about movie musicals and politics and religion... but mostly musicals.  We're agreed that Russell Crowe disappointed in Les Mis, we're excited for Anna Kendrick to be in The Last Five Years and on some level we all miss the theater.  I don't miss it as much as those two do, but I do sometimes miss it.

It's funny how as a child and teenager I was once able to sing and act onstage in front of people.  Nowadays, I get panic attacks from being called on to answer a question in class.  I shake like a leaf when giving a class presentation.  And I was sweating bullets as soon as Sydney set up her tripod and focused that camera on us.  Thursday I'll have to give a presentation in front of an estimated 80 or so people including the president of Utah Valley University and I am terrified.  Terrified.  I wonder whatever happened to the confident boy who used to perform.  I wonder if he's gone for good, or if he'll ever come back again.

A Text from Sydney

I got a text message this morning from a friend of mine named Sydney.  I haven't talked to her in a while, so it was a nice surprise.  We talked about our busy lives for a bit before she said, "Hey so I hate to like randomly talk to you after forever and then ask a favor... but I'm doing a story on the gay marriage debate for one of my journalism classes and I would love to interview you and Brian."  I wasn't expecting that sort of favor to be asked, but I couldn't say no.  I mean, for a lot of people Brian and I are the only gay couple they know... let alone a married gay couple.  So even though I'm completely swamped in schoolwork this weekend, we agreed to the interview.  She's coming over to film us tomorrow.

That's right, film us.  When I initially agreed to help out I thought it would be for a written article.  But no, she wants to show Brian and I cooking in the kitchen and acting all cute and coupley.  Then we'll sit down for a filmed interview session with her. It's a little nerve-wracking, and I have to remind myself that nobody's going to see it other than her professor and a smattering of classmates at Brigham Young University.

Speaking of BYU, I know that their men's chorus sang at one of the sessions of LDS General Conference today.  I have a couple of gay friends, Michael and Andrew, who sing in that choir.  They were pretty excited to be a part of it all.  Also, while I'm on the topic of gays and BYU students, I know a guy named Nathan Cunliffe who co-created a comic strip for BYU's Understanding Same-Gender Attraction (USGA) organization.  The strip is called Bronicorns and it's about two brothers, one gay and one straight, who attend BYU.  It's pretty cute, so you should check them out!

My Chapbook Came In! Yay!

My sister Renee sent me a photo much like the one here, holding my little chapbook.  "Wow," I texted. "You got yours before I got mine!"  "I must be important," she replied.  But a few hours later, while at work, I got a text from Brian.  Guess what it was.  Yep, another photo of a hand holding my chapbook, this time the hand belonged to Brian.  "Your book came in!" he said.  I was pretty excited to hear it.  And when I got home, I was finally able to get my own hands on my little book.  I can't believe so many people got to see it before I did!  It looks great though.  Blurb did a good job with the printing.

"But then you smiled with fruit juice dripping from the corner of your apple lips, your mouth a yawning hollow where I could see our bleak future."

Light at the End?

There's a light at the end of the tunnel, but nobody said there was an obstacle course to get to it. Sure the semester ends in just a couple of weeks, but in those weeks there are a myriad of hoops for me to jump through, Herculean tasks to prove myself a hero. In class today my professor congratulated me for a paper being published in Essais. "Are you presenting it at Popomology?" she asked. "Um, no, I haven't heard..." "Oh," she said. "I'm the faculty advisor for the journal. Someone should have contacted you. Consider yourself invited." So now I'm giving a 10-minute presentation with visuals and participating in a Q&A session. Next Thursday. For reals.

I also have a poem to memorize and recite, some finals to prepare for, a smattering of papers to write, a group presentation to give, more reading and countless other assignments that have fallen under my radar. Please, God of Academia, hear my plea and deliver me from this evil! Thank you. Amen.

Workshop with Melanie Rae Thon: Part Two

Here are more writing prompts from yesterday's writing workshop with author Melanie Rae Thon.

Have you ever been accused of a crime you didn't commit?

I've been accused of being condescending or inattentive or even fake.  I've been accused of being too trusting, a blabber-mouth, too selfless, too selfish and even passive aggressive.  I suppose at times they are all true.  Nobody's perfect.  I used to be accused of being gay, but these days I'll admit it.  Recently I was accused of plagiarizing a poem, because my iambic pentameter was too spot on.  The professor's google search came up with just one hit, a link to my personal blog.  She apologized.  What I hate most of all is being accused of crimes that I did commit.  Oftentimes, this new picture of me is so frightening and so unlike my own self-perception that I immediately deny it.  "No, that's not true.  I would never do such a thing!"  And because our world is composed of language, those words construct a new reality that I buy into.  And it's like I never did anything wrong.  My world is right-side-up again.

What are the circumstances of your birth?

My mother didn't say she was pregnant with me for a long while, or so I hear.  Reason being her sister, my aunt, was already pregnant.  My mother didn't want to steal her thunder.  Eventually I became obvious, protruding from her stomach larger and larger with each passing day until I was born, screaming and squirming on a hot day in August.  My father had been feeding ice cubes to my mother, to distract her from the pain, and his hands were cold and wet when he held me for the first time.  My mother held me too, smiling and exhausted, but somewhere far away my aunt secretly wept the loss of my cousin that would never be.  Thunder was stolen after all.