I’ve signed up for a daily writing prompt from Sarah Selecky that sends a new writing ‘challenge’ every day. To make sure I actually do it, I’m going to post my pieces of literary brilliancy here for your reading pleasure. To commence tomorrow.
Yet another photographer doing things that make me cringe with pure jealousy. Alejandro Cartegena’s “Car Poolers” captures Mexican construction workers en route to their jobs in the back of pickup trucks. So simple, so f-ing great. I need a Valium.
Not to brag, but I’ve accepted many awards in my time. I’ve won cross-country races (malnourished, mind you), seats to an NHL hockey game (nosebleed included), a karaoke contest in Thailand (a sloppily drunken duet of ‘A Whole New World’), several pats on the back, and perhaps a few random pieces of candy from a strange man at my church (I’ve developed an acquired taste for warm Smarties straight from suit pockets). Perhaps I’ve confused ‘awards’ with ‘rewards’. Or just ‘random shit’.
Either way, all that random shit didn’t involve standing up, gesturing proudly and bragging about how much harder I trained. Nor did it involve taunting children at recess with facts on why the teachers preferred me to the rest of them.
‘Mrs. Young likes me better because I don’t masturbate while she’s erasing the chalkboard.’
And I wouldn’t exactly say that accepting a children’s bucket full of cola, Thai whiskey and an illegal energy drink really warrants any pride in oneself. It’s an award best enjoyed surrounded (and hidden) by your incoherent peers.
So, even with all these awards/rewards/random shit that I’ve accepted over the years, I have never once been asked to make a speech. Or at least that was the case until December 3rd of last year.
At first I didn’t care. I wasn’t worried about what I should say or what was even appropriate. Being myself seemed simple enough. I’d get up to the podium, point my finger out at the crowd, and whoever thought I was pointing at them, they’d be thanked for EVERYTHING! I wouldn’t even get into specifics. I’d just say:
‘This, *still pointing finger* this is all because of you.’
Then I’d wipe away a fake tear, make an understated fist pump to God and stumble off the stage with my award. Meanwhile, everyone will be turning to see who I was blindly pointing towards. There’ll probably be this one guy in the center of the audience that’ll just shrug pathetically. Or better yet, it’ll be a deaf and blind elderly woman who’ll be ignorantly sitting there with the biggest grin on her face. Perhaps medication for her cataracts will lightly stream from one eye as though it were a single tear of joy. Then the crowd will be so touched and awe inspired that they’ll stand and applaud ferociously for the next day or two.
However, by looking at the photo you’ll see that I didn’t end up going with the ‘pointing’ route. In fact, I went the opposite. It actually looks as though I realized that not even a hypothetical old woman with vision and auditory problems was deserving of my fake gratitude. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to insult anybody but myself with that last comment. If I said to myself, as a random person in an audience, ‘This is all because of you’, I’d feel threatened!
‘What the f___ did I do?!’
Eventually I’d go home and torture myself trying to figure out if I should be calling my lawyer or The Iceman. ‘What did I do? What did I do?! WHAT DID I DO?!‘ It would all start with me not having done anything, and end with me starting a bloody massacre!
So, you understand why instead of pointing a finger, I opted for a simple speech along the lines of:
‘My mother thanks you all for this award and wishes she were here. Thank you’