The Cube

Last night we had our annual LAD meeting where we eat, do some business and hear a speaker. The first year I went, the speaker was a slam poet. He did some slam poetry and then we were encouraged to join the new slam poetry part of LAD. I don't know that anyone did. Last year we heard a woman talk about the beauty that is the graphic novel and how to use those in class. Both nights were dreadful--not becuase the information was bad, but because I am so tired by Thursday night when it happens. After school we rush to the meeting place ( Panera, Mr. Yen's, San Francisco Oven), and then wait for an hour to eat (my stomach grumbles and I think I'm going to pass out), get a lot of new and old people registered for LAD ( I usually staple and get a paper cut), eat some dinner (ususally leave hungry), and then listen to the speaker.

Last night's speaker started by doing activity she called "The Cube." You can do the cube as well. The first step is to draw a desert horizon with skyline and sand. Next draw a cube; what is it made of? Describe it. Then draw a ladder. What is it made of? Describe it. Now, draw a horse. Describe it. Finally, draw a storm.

The cube is you.
The ladder are your friends.
The horse is your significant other.
The storm are your problems.

Notice where they each are she told us. I couldn't stop laughing the whole time. And then I looked at my picture. I'm a big block of ice, melting in the hot desert. My friends are a big rope ladder all intertwined together, but I'm separate from them. Witt is close to them, but walking toward me with a thought bubble above his head that says "WTF? Water!" The storm is raging in his belly. That's right. In his belly.

What are the chances? I tell Witt about the Cube and ask "How in the world did this happen?" He looks at me sleepily and says, "You're smart."

I love him.