Monday, February 1, 2010

Jeremy


A rotation was going around the school with stories. My stories. This rotation included friends, friends of friends, relatives, teachers, and even strangers. I am known as the Writer at my school, probably because everyone knows I write stories and want to be published one day.

I can hear the whispers in the hallways as I pass by.

“He wrote a sixty page paper for a history class?! You’re kidding me, right?”

“See that thick book in his hand, that’s ‘light’ reading for him.”

“Writing a novel right now, running a blog, and keeping up with schoolwork. Does he have a social life?”

It was a normal day, so far.

I walked down the hallway to be confronted by a tiny seventh grader, “Are you Vatche?” He had glasses and tanned skin. The glasses reflected a vague outline of my image, but I took notice of his eager eyes.

“Umm, I think so,” I joked. I could tell he was nervous probably because I was five years older than he was.

He smiled. “You write, right?”

“Right, right,” I nodded my head.

He laughed and his nerves cooled, “I read some of your work.”

“Really?” I put down my bag and thick book onto the cracked tile floors of the school’s hallway. “Which one?”

“The one you posted on the Saroyan’s Ghost blog, the ‘My Love Life’ one.”

“What about it?” I crossed my arms.

“It was phenomenal. Is it true?” His eyes searched for something, yet I couldn’t tell what it was.

“Yes, it’s true,” I said proudly.

“Do you have any more stories? Any fiction writing?”

“Umm, I do write fiction on my time off. I’m working on a novel right now really.”

“What’s it called?” He looked amused by our conversation.

“Can I ask you something? It should be fair one question of mine for twenty of yours.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, sure.” He nodded his head so many times that his face became a blur.

“What’s your name?”

“Jeremy.”

I stuck out my hand, “Well, though it’s late for introductions. It’s a pleasure meeting you, Jeremy.”

He shook my hand, “I never thought you would be such a nice guy.”

“Why?” I raised my eyebrow. “Do I look big and scary?”

“Well, you are a senior.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“I don’t know. The whole age difference might make you not want to talk to me. I was nervous in the beginning—”

“Yeah, I could tell you were nervous, but you got to lighten up. Speak your mind, man!” I patted him on the shoulder. “Just because I’m older than you doesn’t mean I can’t hear you. I’ll listen if you have a voice.”

“Thanks, so much. All I really wanted to say was that I like writing, too. Though I’m not as good as you are,” Jeremy looked down.

“Well, to tell you the truth, I used to suck,” I whispered into his ear, “I wasn’t born a writer, you know?” I bent down a little to make eye contact with him. I wanted him to understand that I wasn’t lying and all I needed to do was give him my eyes.

“Yeah, I get it. Practice, practice, practice. Right?”

“Not just that, Jeremy,” I took the thick book from the floor and put it into Jeremy’s hands, “you got to read, read, read. You read my piece, right? Then, you should understand, Jeremy, that if you want to be a successful writer, you got to read!”

“Jeez, being successful would be a dream come true.”

“Yeah, for you and me!” I patted him on the shoulder as the first bell for our classes rang.

“But Vatche, you’re already published practically.”

“What do you mean?” I grabbed my bag off the floor.

“There’s a circulation of your stories going around. I don’t know where they’re coming from, but everyone’s reading your stories, your blog, and they are waiting.”

“Waiting for what?”

“The next blog post. The next short story. The next chapter. The next novel. Your next piece. Vatche, don’t you get it?” he said as he walked down the hallway and waved goodbye. “We are all waiting.”

“Hey, wait up!” I caught him before he entered his classroom.

“If you need any help, at any time, you just come to me and ask. You can even hand me a story of yours or two, ok?”

He shook his head, “Thanks, so much. I’m glad I talked to you.”

“No problem,” I looked at the watch Amy gave me, “get to class you’re almost late!”

“Right, right,” he ran inside smiling ear to ear.

Though the bell rang, I watched him take out his notebook and begin writing his next story instead of doing classwork. All his thoughts and ideas were made into a reality on that single piece of loose-leaf paper. All his imagination was poured onto the white sheet and drenched the page with color.

He handed me that paper, full of life, one class period later.

13 comments:

Anonymous said...

"used" to suck? jk jk ...or am i? o.O and how the heck do you hear people talking about you? i dont know what hallways you're walking through but the ones at our school are packed with loud smelly rich kids... every one of my senses hate me by the time i get out of there...

- Rafi

Vatche said...

Rafi, Rafi, Rafi. Listen and you'll hear the gossiping Armenians whisper into each other's ears. Enjoy all your senses, while you still have them.

Thanks for the comment! Much appreciation!

Anonymous said...

you wont have to listen to em for too long, we're almost outta here.... *fingers crossed*

-Rafi

Vatche said...

True, true, we're almost out of school and entering college, where we'll hear a bunch of new voices and experience new things. We are heading for the real world, Rafi.

Anonymous said...

i cant wait.... well, i can but id rather it happen sooner than later.


-Rafi

Vatche said...

It's going to happen eventually, Rafi. Just enjoy it while it lasts...that's all that matters.

Tony Anders said...

The "chatter" we are often surrounded by is like the static on a radio. We can tune in and tune out and adjust our dial. Sometimes turning it off and enjoying the silence is good too. Nice post!

Vatche said...

I completely agree, Tony, that sometimes the voices around us can be like static on a radio...at times it can be unbearable when you have a headache and at times it can be soothing to hear someone say something to you at just the right moment to make your day.

Thank you for commenting and following; it is always appreciated.

Anonymous said...

"the" writer...? The tone of your blog is very arrogant. How do you expect to grow as a writer when you regard yourself in such a manner. Even though you say you have a lot to learn you write as if you know it all. Your blogs aren't bad and it may not be your intention but that's the impression you've always given off which makes it difficult for people to connect with your writing

Vatche said...

I'm sorry I give you the wrong impression, Anonymous, but I'm just stating the facts as they are.

I AM known as THE Writer in my school, no joke. There is still a vast amount of knowledge out there, which I have yet to attain. I'm gaining experience along the way, so don't be turned off by any of it. I'm not regarding myself as all-knowledgeable by any stretch of the imagination, I'm just stating the facts as they are. How I perceived these experiences through my eyes, my ears, and my thought patterns.

These are all my experiences, truthful and honest; I don't know everything and I'm just writing this blog to be like journal on my path. That path having an end, where I become a published writer one day.

I write my experiences to show my connections and have people sort of relate, like when Jeremy came up to me, which was probably the first time anyone younger has talked to me about my writing and looked at me as a role model. I have never seen myself as the role model type, but here he was and there I was. The connection was made, whether be by luck, chance, fate, or destiny. (Pick whichever one you want, really.)

I guess, my main goal here, on this blog, is to show this movement in my life from high school to college, one experience at a time.

I am very thankful for your comment and I'm always appreciated to hear your opinions. Thank you.

Anonymous said...

Thanks for the clarification. Keep up with the good work.

Anonymous said...

I AM known as THE Writer in my school, no joke.

I know many people who are also aspiring to be writers at school. You can't just give yourself the ego boost of "I AM known as THE writer" because you're not. Just because you made your own blog doesn't make you the only person interested in writing and reading and Literature in general. You don't need to prove a point by holding a book. if you wanna read, read but you don't have to try and make a statement by showing off big books make a statement by showing yourself actually READING the book.

Vatche said...

I know that I'm not the only person at my school, in the world, or in this universe who enjoys writing...it's kind of obvious...but anyway, I am not proving a point by holding a big book in my hands, I just usually have a big book because I enjoy the long adventure. I love to read from the bottom of my heart, plain and simple. Thank you for your comments Anonymous, it is appreciated.

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