Frustrating Day.. I wrote this.

Creative Forums Creative Writing
1

The Humming Fan

I stared at the fan overhead.

It spun, as fans tend to do; tickling the hairs on my arm as it pushed the air down, trying to free itself from the confines of the ceiling it clung to. Almost like an exercise bike, going nowhere but still meant to.

Looking down from the ceiling I tried to focus myself back on the conversation at hand. My Mother and Father sat across from me at the table I was seated at – waiting. Right, they were waiting on me to say…something, anything. “Well… I want to finish my degree and go into Journalism, likely.” I shrugged at this statement, a familiar one to me. “But I mean… you already know that” I finished, glancing back and forth between them.

“And to finish your degree you need money!”

The fan hummed.

“I know…”

“So why don’t you have a job?” one of them asked.

“’Cause I’m not just going to take any job at the box factory that comes along…That other one was a waste of time so I quit” the words just fell out of my mouth; at this point they knew when their cue was.

“Well then how are you going to get any money? You want to move back out, but how are you going to go to school and pay for rent and food?”

I shook my head slightly at the question we all knew the answer to. “Well I wouldn’t be doing both obviously. There’s no rush for me to finish school, have you forgotten how young I am?”

“You’re not getting any younger…”

I stumbled slightly, trying to respond to this type of statement. “I’m aware of that…” I finally said as simply as I could.

“If you start working, you’re not going to want to go back to school.”

“How do you know that?” I inquired, seriously doubting the validity of my Dad’s claim to see what’s going on in my mind, despite his parental role and the length of time he has known me.

“Well, you’ve gotten used to not working, so why would you have any desire to continue with school once you stop?”

Now I was thoroughly confused. “I don’t…what? That doesn’t even make sense. I like school, I want to keep learning and writing – that’s my interest in life.”

My mom took over. “I guess we just want to see some initiative, something more than laying around all day on your laptop. Some sort of work…anything.”

I caught a low hum in the fan which wasn’t there before. I wondered what it was; perhaps a loose screw? It seemed to be reverberating a bit now – either way my parents didn’t appear to notice.

“I do work…”

My parents laughed at this, throwing a couple looks to each other in the cryptic cipher no kids can begin to comprehend.

I looked down at the table, a little hurt. Literally half of my person and they were mocking it, completely ignorant that it even existed in any real characterization.

“Some sort of motivation” my mom clarified for me. “You know? We all appreciate your deep thinking, and your….writing, but being an idealist is not going to make you any money. You need money, now. How are you going to move out?”

I stared back at the fan, trying to think of a way to convey my thoughts without being too ‘deep’. Of course motivation can be further reduced beyond its neurochemical launching point into different socio-political facets; things which, by definition are fueled by a person’s belief system. Indeed I was tempted to argue that the homeless bum on the streets had more ‘motivation’ then both of them, just to show how easy it is to throw the word around without any context. I decided against this when I saw there was definitely a screw loose; I could see it wiggling around in the vibrations as the blades cut through the invisible air. “I’ll have a job. I don’t have one …but I will.” I replied, lost in thought now.

“I think you should stay at home and go to school” one of them said simply, as if I might just change my mind. I didn’t even bother to respond.

“Well, I don’t think that.” I wasn’t trying to disagree, simply repeating the facts for their benefit.

“I just…don’t understand this. You don’t even have a plan… but yet you want to move back out?”

“Well that’s plan in itself isn’t it?”

“A plan without any money”

I cringed, looking back down to see the final syllable escaping my dad’s lips. I wonder how many times the word had been used in this conversation? “Yeah so what? Don’t you have any confidence in me? Do you think I’ll just end up on the streets? You think I’ll be some fuck-up just because I haven’t stockpiled a bunch of money?”

Again the exchange. “No, of course not. Of course we have confidence in you…”

“Good. So I guess we’re done here then?”

My Dad spoke up. “If you move out, you’re on your own. We don’t mind helping out paying for some of the schooling…or buying you food while you’re here but—

“Oh, so it’s alright to spend money on me if I’m going to school…then it’s alright.”

They shrugged, “Yeah. We’re not just going to throw away money.”

“Yeah not if I’m just going to…” I paused, trying to think of the right wording. “What is it I do? Oh yeah… fuck away the day by doing absolutely nothing.”

“Don’t get smart” one said sternly as I looked back up to the fan. “If you’re going to school, then we don’t mind helping you – because it’s for education.”

I laughed slightly as the screw fell out of its hole onto the floor beside the table. The fan kept on going unaltered except for a small change in sound.

“We just don’t want you to look back on this and realize you’ve made a mistake”

2

Nicely written. Having set on both sides of the table in my years (I think I can remember back that far), I’ll just make one comment. We all move to the point of greatest pressure.

Move out and then combine necessity with desire. (oops, that was two comments) :unamused: Well, you know how the old folks are… :laughing:

3

Monkey man,

You are an intelligent, emotionally inspired young man. You think, discern, engage … all with spectacularly brilliant honesty.

Like tentative, (except for the enormous age gap), I too remember your days, and am in the midst of my own as a parent.

Don’t forget parents are fallible humans … just like you.

Subjectively speaking:

Parent: What is that we worry about you, and hate to admit we aren’t ready for you to be grown up and not need our help or advice.

Parent: You are our child, of course we have confidence in you. But we have also lived long enough to realise that reality on the streets is unforgiving, and we can’t stop worrying about your welfare.

Parents: If we don’t know for certain you will be alright, do you think we can sleep at night knowing our child may be in danger, hungry, homeless, or ill?

Parents: We think the world is fucked up because without money, you don’t stand a chance. As parents, we are also a bit narcissitic, and don’t want anyone to know that our child is not “#1” at all things in life, so we take a stupid attitude sometimes … just like you.

Parents: Done? Are you not understanding that parenting is never done, because worrying and concern and love are never done? Fuck no we aren’t done … this is a life process.

Parent translation: In our quest for adulthood, we became a bit more fallible, and a touch jaded, and are a bit fearful that you may just try to suck us dry, even though we know better, but we can’t ever know for certain.

Parent translation: When we were your age, we were the same sort of unguided cosmic fuck ups to our parents, and because we resent them for their mistake, we make the same one. Plus, we’ve seen enough of our friends who didn’t make it for the same reason … and that makes us scared for you. Life passes you by quickly, look how old we have become, and sometimes, those things that seem little, that you didn’t take time to complete … life can make it so you never get back to them, its just the way and the pace of things.

It’s important to understand that parents need the validation of their child doing well in life, so their parenting was obviously well done. Most parents want the very optimal success for their offspring, and just forget how to speak to their child/children, without sounding like an arrogant, know-it-all, done-it-all jackass.

We’re fallible, all us parents are … sorry, human to the end, just like you.

4

:laughing: Story of my life - no-one ever takes the long view.

Get yo ass outta there writing man, good intentions pave the way to mediocrity and art requires some small level of discomfort as its due.

[size=75]ps: frustrating [cough] frustrating. [/size]

5

#-o

6

Ah, depressing, Tabula, but true - I assume.

Gobbo, this was a really interesting piece to read - no matter how much of it came from real-life. But, I thought you really could have done more.

Maybe I’m wrong - so don’t get mad at me. It’s just that I thought the humming fan could have been used much better as a symbol for the tension trying to be illustrated in the scene. In other words, I thought you could of worked a lot more drama, a lot more conflict, into that fan. (And I really loved the illustration, I was just dissapointed to not see more tension, or a climax) - I guess, the piece failed to bring out a cartharsis in me, which, it certainly set itself up to do in the begining. (Just saying you could have taken it farther, if you so desired). :sunglasses:

7

TUM,

You’re definitely right. I wrote it in the heat of the moment; as I often do with the stuff I post on here I’ll work on it on my own, if I feel it warrants it. This one might, or I should say, it could definitely be improved it’s just a matter of, like I said, whether I feel like it.

Such is the reason many of the stories have tons of typos and things of that sort.

But yeah, I remember when writing it not being satisfied with the fan metaphor. In fact, I had forgotten about this story up until now.

Perhaps once this philosophy of language course finishes twisting my grasp of syntax around I’ll get back into the swing of things. I haven’t written any CW in an little while now… :confused: