The Band Bus

Do you have those nights where you add up all the events of your day and, no matter how many good things happened, no matter how hard you try, things just don't sum to a possitive? And all you can do is just ride it out until sunrise, when the slate can be wiped clean again. A day is not measured by the hours you laugh, but by the moments you cry. The bad, if ever it has the chance, will outweigh the good.

It should have been a great day, though. That's what gets me. I spend all day at school just chillin' with friends, a near perfect day for me. There had to be a chink in this chain of enjoyment.

It's small, trifling really. To say it sounds like nothing at all, but what outright ruined my day was my destroyed pot. It was so good! I poured my time, effort and heart into that piece and for what? An underglazed lid?! I worked so hard, so goddamned hard on that thing, getting the sides smooth, gettting the lid to not jiggle around, and keeping it moist over Spring Break (a fate not easilly achieved).

But fate has this way of saying, "Fuck you," when you least expect it. There are two reasons why a piece explodes in the kiln: air pockets and moisture. Now, I neaded that clay meticulously, so air pockets were in no way an issue. So, some kid who should have never been putting the pieces into the kiln in the first place placed mine in there before it could totally become bone-dry, and now all I have of my days of hard work is a lid. Ms. Laudenback was incredibly appoligetic about it all, because she'd become fond of the piece as well. Apparently, I'm pretty good at this pottery thing. I find faults in nearly everything I do. I'm never satisfied with myself, but I was legititmently proud of this piece. Naturally, then, it was utterly destroyed. Well, universe, I hope you're quite satisfied with yourself.