STORY TIME!
When I was maybe a junior in highschool, I had this teacher named Mr. Leidner. I always did whatever I could to take his class. He was really cool, he had a kick ass beard and made me laugh a lot.
I wasn't the best student to say the least. I very rarely skipped class, and I did most (maybe) of the work I was assigned, but for the most part I could not have cared less, especially my junior year. I must have been 16 when I enrolled in his creative writing class, because I needed an elective.
(One time, I was taking a vocab quiz which I of course did not study for. This was sophomore or freshman year. I knew none of the words. My grade was dipping so much that I realized that I needed to get my stuff together. It was so funny, I sat front row in his class because I wouldn't stop messing around with my buddy Ryan Winters and yada yada yada. We were taking the quiz, and since I needed a decent grade, I thought it was a good idea to cheat! So halfway through, with an empty paper, I stood up with a very sharp pencil to go "sharpen" it. I was so obviously looking at other people's papers. Instead of waiting to talk to me or doing it any other way, Mr. Leidner sarcastically and loudly asked if my pencil was dull. The whole class laughed, I was standing in front of everyone, everyone knew I was cheating, but Mr. Leidner let it slide. We of course talked after class, and I of course failed, but it's something I always remember. The only adult in the room, seeing me, struggling, and making the best out of it.)
Anyways, I took creative writing that year, and by this point I was introduced to weed! As a dumb kid I pretty much always had a pen on me, and I was high (and very very sad) for most of my junior year. So in creative writing, I saw it as an opportunity to kick my feet up and relax. My buddies Ryan Winters and Luke Keene were there too, which made it even more fun.
We got assigned to write a creative short story. Ryan and Luke struggled, and I couldn't have really cared less. While we sat in the hallway (seperate from the rest of the class), Mr. Leidner insisted that we at least try. Just submit anything.
Since he was my favorite teacher, I decided to just write some crap down and get it done.
I ended up writing a story about these raccoons. They lived in Cleveland, and with them being raccoons, they would dumpster dive for food. They were all friends, and even though they were dumpster diving and living in Cleveland (because I thought that was hilarious for some reason. I had this impression that Cleveland SUCKED strictly because no NBA player wanted to play for the Cavaliers), they made the most of it. Life sucked for the raccoons, but at least they had eachother. I think I wrote that it was a family with a couple friends.
One day, the group of raccoons come across this dumpster with a mysterious light beaming up from under its doors. The group opens it and dives in for some food.
After that, I'm not exactly sure what happened. My gut wants to say that the raccoons were transported to this magical raccoon paradise, where they have their own diners, homes and more. Maybe they went to heaven. I'm really not sure what my stoner 16yo mind was thinking!
Well anyways, I submitted the essay, and I got a good grade! I was pretty shocked. I was even more shocked by Mr. Leidner's reaction. He could read me like a book: showing up a little late every day, noticably quiet on some days and super happy on others, cheating on vocab quizzes and much more.
He said it was great, and that it stood out. I personally don't believe it stood out, considering there were so many smart, hard working students in this creative writing class because they actually wanted to pursue writing at a young age.
I think about these silly raccoons pretty often. I think that was the first time I wrote something and actually got positive feedback. I didn't do anything from there for some obvious reasons, but it was definetely something.
But I think about Mr. Leidner pretty often, and I wonder how he's doing. Part of me will refuse to believe he isn't doing any less than awesome, considering how cool of a person he is. I mean he lived in Alaska for a while.
I'm 23, and I've been at work for so long on a VERY slow day at the cinema. Maybe watching this and thinking about this silly story from highschool is a result of that. As much as I am curious about him, about Ryan, about Luke, about my writing, about my time, about my career path and all of that other fun, it’s terrifying stuff.
I would love to write, and I always mean to do more. I tell myself I'm too busy, but then spend an hour watching Slushy Noobz and ranting to (maybe) a couple people about who knows what. I'll get to it at some point. In the mean time...
The water keeps on flowing
Comingled Containers will forever be a special film for me. I write these silly reviews for me, but if anybody is reading this, I hope you have a great night. Summer is right around the corner, hang tight.
STORY TIME!
When I was maybe a junior in highschool, I had this teacher named Mr. Leidner. I always did whatever I could to take his class. He was really cool, he had a kick ass beard and made me laugh a lot.
I wasn't the best student to say the least. I very rarely skipped class, and I did most (maybe) of the work I was assigned, but for the most part I could not have cared less, especially my junior year. I must have been 16 when I enrolled in his creative writing class, because I needed an elective.
(One time, I was taking a vocab quiz which I of course did not study for. This was sophomore or freshman year. I knew none of the words. My grade was dipping so much that I realized that I needed to get my stuff together. It was so funny, I sat front row in his class because I wouldn't stop messing around with my buddy Ryan Winters and yada yada yada. We were taking the quiz, and since I needed a decent grade, I thought it was a good idea to cheat! So halfway through, with an empty paper, I stood up with a very sharp pencil to go "sharpen" it. I was so obviously looking at other people's papers. Instead of waiting to talk to me or doing it any other way, Mr. Leidner sarcastically and loudly asked if my pencil was dull. The whole class laughed, I was standing in front of everyone, everyone knew I was cheating, but Mr. Leidner let it slide. We of course talked after class, and I of course failed, but it's something I always remember. The only adult in the room, seeing me, struggling, and making the best out of it.)
Anyways, I took creative writing that year, and by this point I was introduced to weed! As a dumb kid I pretty much always had a pen on me, and I was high (and very very sad) for most of my junior year. So in creative writing, I saw it as an opportunity to kick my feet up and relax. My buddies Ryan Winters and Luke Keene were there too, which made it even more fun.
We got assigned to write a creative short story. Ryan and Luke struggled, and I couldn't have really cared less. While we sat in the hallway (seperate from the rest of the class), Mr. Leidner insisted that we at least try. Just submit anything.
Since he was my favorite teacher, I decided to just write some crap down and get it done.
I ended up writing a story about these raccoons. They lived in Cleveland, and with them being raccoons, they would dumpster dive for food. They were all friends, and even though they were dumpster diving and living in Cleveland (because I thought that was hilarious for some reason. I had this impression that Cleveland SUCKED strictly because no NBA player wanted to play for the Cavaliers), they made the most of it. Life sucked for the raccoons, but at least they had eachother. I think I wrote that it was a family with a couple friends.
One day, the group of raccoons come across this dumpster with a mysterious light beaming up from under its doors. The group opens it and dives in for some food.
After that, I'm not exactly sure what happened. My gut wants to say that the raccoons were transported to this magical raccoon paradise, where they have their own diners, homes and more. Maybe they went to heaven. I'm really not sure what my stoner 16yo mind was thinking!
Well anyways, I submitted the essay, and I got a good grade! I was pretty shocked. I was even more shocked by Mr. Leidner's reaction. He could read me like a book: showing up a little late every day, noticably quiet on some days and super happy on others, cheating on vocab quizzes and much more.
He said it was great, and that it stood out. I personally don't believe it stood out, considering there were so many smart, hard working students in this creative writing class because they actually wanted to pursue writing at a young age.
I think about these silly raccoons pretty often. I think that was the first time I wrote something and actually got positive feedback. I didn't do anything from there for some obvious reasons, but it was definetely something.
But I think about Mr. Leidner pretty often, and I wonder how he's doing. Part of me will refuse to believe he isn't doing any less than awesome, considering how cool of a person he is. I mean he lived in Alaska for a while.
I'm 23, and I've been at work for so long on a VERY slow day at the cinema. Maybe watching this and thinking about this silly story from highschool is a result of that. As much as I am curious about him, about Ryan, about Luke, about my writing, about my time, about my career path and all of that other fun, it’s terrifying stuff.
I would love to write, and I always mean to do more. I tell myself I'm too busy, but then spend an hour watching Slushy Noobz and ranting to (maybe) a couple people about who knows what. I'll get to it at some point. In the mean time...
The water keeps on flowing
Comingled Containers will forever be a special film for me. I write these silly reviews for me, but if anybody is reading this, I hope you have a great night. Summer is right around the corner, hang tight.
