Do I Havta??
The Book
So here it is. THE INTERVIEW. I'm not so sure this turned out the way I had hoped anticipated.
That said, I'm still posting it. In its entirety.
Good idea? I don't know. I never know. Until after I do something.
This is me. This is Wix. These are side comments, or thoughts. This is the poem. And now you're on your own. So here we go...
Wix
Umm My mom is the only one who calls me that, so don't get any ideas. I'm tall. I play the electric guitar. I'm 13 and have a little sister and an older brother. I'm taller than he is. I'm also smarter than he is. Well, I'm smarter and taller than the "Princess" (said with extreme sarcasm) is, too. And I love our cats. Did you tell your phantom readers you talk about, what happened to Squeak? (See how funny the kid is??)
No. I forgot.
(I'll spare you the 20 minute rant he then went on about how I obviously don't care about the cats, since I hadn't posted a global APB for our cat - who mysteriously "disappeared". A story for another day.)
Squeak - the missing kitty
I didn't "let" you. You're making me.
Duly noted.
I didn't want to, but I didn't have a choice. The teacher made everyone write one.
I love the cover. What made you decorate it the way you did?
I collaged the front with paper because I can't draw. This seemed easier. Besides, you do stuff like tear up paper and say it's art. (Gee, thanks. The appreciation is heartwarming. Truly.)
Let's talk about the meaning of your poem. What instructions were you given?
To write a poem about, "I was... I am... I will be...". Are we done? Can I go??
Where do you want to go?
To finish playing video games.
But don't you always play video games?
No...I also havta go to school and sleep.
But school's out for the summer.
Thank goodness.
So let me interview you about your rockin' poem. I'll make you famous, baby.
Right, Mom. No one reads this. Am I done?
Ouch! As soon as you tell my readers about your poem.
Fine. I wrote it.
I love your modesty. And how you draw things out. You really don't like giving it all up too soon, do you?
I just think this is dumb. I wanna go play my game.
Chillax, Wix. You're going to turn into a video game...look! Look at your hands!! It's already starting!
You're one funny old lady. Not.
I'm glad to see you're on your best behavior. Let's move onto your poem or we may destroy the facade of functionality I've worked hard to build.
What?
Nevermind...
I was...
I am...
I will be...
The poem is about me. Where I've been, where I am now, and where I see my life heading. It addresses different aspects of life, and how I perceive each, or want them to be.
(Huh? Is this the same kid sewing his verbal oats above? I assure you it is - the same impatience and eyerolling was pervasive throughout our convo.)
Wait - Say that again...
Mom...It's about the way I see myself. The journey of growing. Or something. Blah. Blah. Blah. Why do I have to do this? No one cares or wants to know.
That isn't true. Every one is salivating to learn about this. So just do it.
I was surrounded by bars.
I am almost free.
I will be a free American.
It's about age - I started my life in a crib, now I have more freedom. When I'm 18 I will be a free American. I won't be a prisoner in "Royal Land - Where Children Have No Rights" anymore.
Does that mean you'll be glad to be rid of your "3 hots & a cot" gig?
I'll still drop by so you can cook and do my laundry for me - I'll just have a few human rights. I can't wait!
(Note: I don't want to know what that means...so I left it alone.)
I was uneducated.
I am loyal.
I will be a Marine.
This is about life. I was uneducated as a baby. Once I gained some knowledge I became loyal to those who gave it up. I want to protect the American way of life. If I become a marine, I can do that.
I was average.
I am poor.
I will be wealthy.
This part is about money. Duh.
Wait - just one question about this part. When did you go from "average" to "poor"?
When I was born. I'm kidding. Kind of.
Ha, you hater. And how long, exactly, do you think it will take you to get wealthy?
I dunno - but it'll be faster than your other two. Does the prison still pay for making license plates?
You're terrible, Wixster. But when you're rich and famous, Just don't forget who raised you. All alone. Who cooked for you and washed your skivvies all these years.
We'll see. I may suffer from short term memory disease. That could happen, ya know.
(At this point I'm wondering if - just maybe - I really did drop him on his head one too many times as a baby.)
I was delinquent. (His words...not mine.)
I am making progress.
I will be owning the world.
Tell me about this part.
My actions. Actions. Actions, Mom.
I was afraid of the dark.
I am better.
I will be fearless.
I bet you can't guess what this one's about
Fears - and overcoming them?
Ding! Ding! Ding! Ya want a cookie? Or another thing in that psyho crown you
Hey - and what's wrong with my crown?
Nothing...if it's for your invisible friend...and you're SIX!
Moving on...
I was bored in life.
I am bored in school.
I will be interested in many things.
Ok, before you ask, this is about my interests. That is the last one...does that mean I'm done?
Not so fast, Junior. If school is boring, and you think life is boring, what will you be interested in?
Right now I'm interested in playing Super Smash Brothers. Can we please be finished?
In one more second.
Fine.
Thank you for doing this. I love you.
You're welcome, I guess. I'm outta here - and I love you, too, Mom.
I love you more.
That's impossible.
*At the end of the interview, he did say he was just kidding about the short term memory disease when he's wealthy...and promised to consider putting me in a good home.
Thanks, Wix.
Posts
