"Don't you know there ain't no doubt when the feeling finds you out..."
Dance Song '97 by Sleater-Kinney was blaring on my stereo as I was painting. The painting I was working on was one with trees that morphed into people. I'd been influenced by the surrealists lately, and I was trying to move away from the abstract stuff I'd been doing at the time. I feel that as a young artist, it's important for me to explore different styles and not get too stuck in any one thing.
Right at my favorite part of the song, there was a knock at the door that ruined my flow. Startled, I knocked over my turpentine.
"Oh shit," I mumbled. Just my luck. Turpentine definitely stains, and, left long enough, it'd burn a hole through my carpet. My mother has been bugging me lately about all the stains on the carpet.
Whoever it was knocked again. "Come in," I called from my position halfway under my bed, looking for some paper towels.
It was Janine. She said, "Hey Claud, could I borrow some brown eyeshadow?"
"Uh, sure," I said. I smiled to myself for a second, remembering how, when she was trying to impress Jerry, her now ex-boyfriend, she wore horrendous blue eyeshadow that just did not work at all. "It's on my dresser... somewhere."
"Thanks. Oh, and mom wants you to make a salad for dinner."
"Alright," I replied. But first I had to take care of that turpentine spill.
...
The salad made, the roast ready, the entire Kishi family sat down to dinner.
"Pass the meat," I said. I was hungry, after painting since I got home from school.
My mother smiled at me as she handed me the platter. "How was school, honey?"
"Fine, I guess. Olivia really likes my sculpture," I replied.
"Olivia?" my father asked.
"My art teacher. She doesn't like to be called Ms. Williams. She says that whenever someone calls for Ms. Williams, she looks around for her mother cause she thinks they're asking for her."
"Ahh," my father said neutrally. He's an investment banker and pretty conservative, and Janine and I have always been instructed to address adults and Mr. ______ or Ms./Mrs. ______.
"That's nice," my mother said.
"Well, I finished my application for Princeton today. I'm a little bit unsure about the essay, but..." Janine smiled. "I'm relieved."
"Good for you, honey!" My mother sounded very proud.
Princeton? I'd be lucky if I could get into Princeton Community College. If such a thing exists, anyway.
Just then, the phone rang, rescuing me from a dinner full of parents' pride for Janine. "I'll get it!" I said, a little too excitedly.
"Hello?" I said.
"Claud?" It was my boyfriend, Alan Gray.
"Oh hey Alan! What's up? Why are you calling me on this line?" I asked, puzzled.
"You don't mind, do you?" he asked anxiously.
"Nah, not at all," I said, wandering into the den. "But I think my parents might."
"Oh, I'm sorry! Are they mad?" he asked.
"Um, I don't know," I said. "Look Alan, why did you call me on this line?"
"Cause I figured you'd be eating... and yeah."
I raised my eyebrows. "Umm... okay, I guess. Anyway. What's up?"
"I was just calling to say congratulations."
"What?" Nothing out of the ordinary had happened that day.
Dance Song '97 by Sleater-Kinney was blaring on my stereo as I was painting. The painting I was working on was one with trees that morphed into people. I'd been influenced by the surrealists lately, and I was trying to move away from the abstract stuff I'd been doing at the time. I feel that as a young artist, it's important for me to explore different styles and not get too stuck in any one thing.
Right at my favorite part of the song, there was a knock at the door that ruined my flow. Startled, I knocked over my turpentine.
"Oh shit," I mumbled. Just my luck. Turpentine definitely stains, and, left long enough, it'd burn a hole through my carpet. My mother has been bugging me lately about all the stains on the carpet.
Whoever it was knocked again. "Come in," I called from my position halfway under my bed, looking for some paper towels.
It was Janine. She said, "Hey Claud, could I borrow some brown eyeshadow?"
"Uh, sure," I said. I smiled to myself for a second, remembering how, when she was trying to impress Jerry, her now ex-boyfriend, she wore horrendous blue eyeshadow that just did not work at all. "It's on my dresser... somewhere."
"Thanks. Oh, and mom wants you to make a salad for dinner."
"Alright," I replied. But first I had to take care of that turpentine spill.
...
The salad made, the roast ready, the entire Kishi family sat down to dinner.
"Pass the meat," I said. I was hungry, after painting since I got home from school.
My mother smiled at me as she handed me the platter. "How was school, honey?"
"Fine, I guess. Olivia really likes my sculpture," I replied.
"Olivia?" my father asked.
"My art teacher. She doesn't like to be called Ms. Williams. She says that whenever someone calls for Ms. Williams, she looks around for her mother cause she thinks they're asking for her."
"Ahh," my father said neutrally. He's an investment banker and pretty conservative, and Janine and I have always been instructed to address adults and Mr. ______ or Ms./Mrs. ______.
"That's nice," my mother said.
"Well, I finished my application for Princeton today. I'm a little bit unsure about the essay, but..." Janine smiled. "I'm relieved."
"Good for you, honey!" My mother sounded very proud.
Princeton? I'd be lucky if I could get into Princeton Community College. If such a thing exists, anyway.
Just then, the phone rang, rescuing me from a dinner full of parents' pride for Janine. "I'll get it!" I said, a little too excitedly.
"Hello?" I said.
"Claud?" It was my boyfriend, Alan Gray.
"Oh hey Alan! What's up? Why are you calling me on this line?" I asked, puzzled.
"You don't mind, do you?" he asked anxiously.
"Nah, not at all," I said, wandering into the den. "But I think my parents might."
"Oh, I'm sorry! Are they mad?" he asked.
"Um, I don't know," I said. "Look Alan, why did you call me on this line?"
"Cause I figured you'd be eating... and yeah."
I raised my eyebrows. "Umm... okay, I guess. Anyway. What's up?"
"I was just calling to say congratulations."
"What?" Nothing out of the ordinary had happened that day.