There are things in life that are beyond me. I don't know what it would take to make me happy. I don't know if there is any foreseeable time when I'll ever be able to move out of my parents' house. Gods know I want to, but there's all this work, which I'm working on, that's in the way before I can even consider it. It's ugly and heavy and bitchy of me to bring it up. Gosh knows they should be the ones who are angry and tired. I should be thankful that my brother takes so much energy and time.
Kyle is another thing that's just beyond me. The kid is a senior in high school and he really can't write an essay on his own. I mean I know children where that's the case, hell I know college peeps who can't write essays and are successful. The difference is that they know they can't write essays, They know it takes a team and they prep in advance so that the whole team can work it's magic and the essay works.
I like working on Kyle's essays. I like to help him. I mean I'm not useful at as many things as I'd like to be helpful with but I'm really really good at anything English oriented. It's one of those things that college and Wyoming and life kind of made me forget, but I really like literature and I'm really intuitively good at parsing out bits and pieces. I know what to write down to get an A and I know how to write it. I know all about the different processes you can take to get those words on paper. I know how to lead people with no skill or intuition into the same answers that come to me like a form of divine intervention. I know how to rewrite the shittiest most primitive work into something respectable. I can do it with poetry, lit analysis, exposition and so many other forms of writing.
I know how to weave the obvious into something subtle and rich with meaning if given the opportunity. I am a fucking spin machine. My problem isn't that I don't get it, it's just that there's so much to get. I can go off for hours about the uses of what are seemingly arbitrary words. I can point out what was probably intentional in an author and what was luck. I can point to conscious and unconscious decisions in work. I can follow any lit critics analysis not matter how asinine if he or she throws out a few examples.
I know how to use styles that are considered difficult to master. Hell, I've written some of my best work in the second person and for me if was pretty simple.
I'm not saying that there aren't better people out there. Obviously there are. I'm not even suggesting that I could be helpful to everyone. I think I could help a majority of people with their work if given the one on one time with them and a person who really wanted my help. What I'm saying is that I know what I'm doing and I'm good at it. I can make a plan that will work for a student who has trouble in that area because even though I have a good intuitive grasp of the work, I have several disabilities that make the process as difficult for me as other people less talented find it. I know a lot of tricks, and even ones that don't work for me, I recognize the kind of person they might work for.
For whatever reasons Kyle can't or won't help me work out a schedule for him to do his work by. It's causing tension in the household because everyone has agreed that I should take point on this task, heck I'd like to take point on this, and I can do nothing for a person who won't work out a schedule with me and then stick too it.
Oh well. There is some good. I know that even though I'm good at English, I'd probably fail in job where I'd have to work with more than ten people on their work. I think that working with Kyle has helped to bring back some of my passion too. I mean I'm writing again and I want to write. I feel like some of my poetic inclination is back too. Who knows, maybe some of my poetic flow is awake and well. It's all baby steps.
I still hope to help him. I really want some of this college stuff nailed down. I'll just have to keep pushing at it and hoping it works out.
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