I must confess, I’m not too optimistic about this blog.
I’ve tried blogging or journal-keeping before and I always get distracted and end up chasing metaphorical butterflies. Nonetheless here I am again. The main reason for the latest go-round is practice. I’m a writer, journalist specifically. And I figure that writing about things I see, read or think can only help me with discipline.
The title of this blog is “Crazy Alex Luck.”
It’s been a catch-all term for a general belief I have that, all else being equal, things tend to work out for the best. I’ll give you an example.
Senior year of high school my one goal was not to have a certain English teacher. This teacher had a reputation for being a general, all-around sourpuss. She would insist on being referred to by her last name only, and reminded everyone that she had a law degree. Y’okay. The solution to this problem was to take Honors-AP English, the undesirable teacher taught Advanced. Therefore I specifically signed up for AP.
But of course, I show up the first day of school, receive my schedule and discover I had been assigned to Advanced English. Not only that, but in the class of the very same teacher I had hoped to avoid. After bitching to the counselor I was told to go with the flow for a few days until they could switch me over. And, heck, maybe I would like my class schedule as is (Wrong, bitches). The teacher, to her credit, was sympathetic. But suggested I prepare for the summer reading quiz for her class the following Monday.
Now this was some bullshit. See I had done the summer reading for Honors-AP (theoretically), Invisible Man and Crime and Punishment. The summer reading for Advanced English was Frankenstein. Resolved, I read Frankenstein that weekend, made a 97 on the test that Monday, and was transferred on Tuesday.
I liked my Honors-AP class much better. The teacher was nice, succeptible to a practical joke or two, and I had friends in the class. The one problem was the books we had to read. Ever piece of Honors-AP literature was weepy drivel, IMO. It took all I had to get through The Awakening (boohoo! I’m a repressed rich woman in Victorian New Orleans so I’m going to abandon my family, sleep with other men and drown myself! Srsly try being a repressed POOR woman, bitch!!). But what was far, far worse was Wuthering Heights.
Let me break it down for you. Boo Hoo! I’m a man who’s raised myself up and come into riches, but I harbor a vendetta against the aristocrats who came between me and my childhood love so I’m going to destroy my life and everyone else’s life in order to get even!! BOO HOO!! God, I fucking hate Healthcliff. So unworthy of the cat for whom he is named.
And yet, we spent an interminable amount of time on this book because everyone knew it was going to be an essay topic on the AP English test. I couldn’t CliffNotes hard enough. I refused to read this stupid book.
So anyway, the day of the AP comes around and yes, I’m a little worried about my lack of knowledge on the subject of Fucking Douche Heathcliff. However, I had kept my brain intact. So there I am taking the AP with my fish pen, and I finally get to the ultimate essay question. Discuss the role of the anti-hero in classic literature. Suggested topics included Fucking Douche and…
Victor Frankenstein in Frankenstein. Hells yeah. Frankenstein taught us that when faced with unrequited love, one doesn’t swear stupid, self-defeating revenge (of the weepy Victorian kind, not the cool Kill Bill revenge) . Nosirree. Instead one creates an unholy monster from discarded flesh of the damned that runs around breaking necks and punching holes in people’s torsos…to impress her. It’s a lesson I learned well.
So I wrote one of the most important essays of my high school career on a book I hadn’t thought about in 30 weeks. I got the maximum score, and was accepted to the University of Texas.
You see? Crazy Alex Luck. I may need it yet for the sake of this blog.