Taking Undercover to the Mall

One of my dialogue exercises suggests you go to the mall and ease drop on people's conversations, then write down what you remember.  Well, I found several problems with this suggestion.  1) the music at the mall is so loud and obnoxious that you can be standing next to someone and not hear people talk. So, I thought, the food court might be better, but alas, the music and noise is so loud there and the chatter so everywhere, that you cannot hear the person sitting right next to you, either.  This picture is of me trying on a dress as I record the two sentences I just heard when I first entered the mall.  I was afraid someone would notice me taking notes on my phone, so I thought... dressing room!  I bought that dress!

At this point, I am still trying to run to the dressing room to record my snip bits of dialogue I heard.  I was a little disappointed at how little I could overhear in a certain amount of time, but more I was disappointed in how "immature" the language of both adults and teenagers was.  For example: sixty year old white woman with a hickish country accent, drab looking clothes, over weight, and a curved back stated into her cell phone: "When I say she's bad, I mean  she's gone all to heck."  Or... as I was waiting in the Chick-fil-a line, a pimply overweight teenager with red curly hair was rating girls after they left the line, in front of the other customers... just like we didn't exist. "I rate that one a seven," he says about this adorable, petite girl who works at Claire's (I had already run into her at the store and had a conversation ). The other two do a moaning, like they disagree.  "What u don't think so?" They moan again.  "What u think I was being too nice?"  At this point, I am finally at the cash register, and the guy stops talking as if he realized finally that they rest of the restaurant could hear his conversation.  Of course, I had some witty comeback in my mind to berate him in front of the restaurant, "For a guy that I would rate a zero, you are not one to be rating women, especially your customers."  That comment flickered in my head, as did summoning the manager because I really enjoyed the conversation that I had with that Claire's girl, and I knew I was next to be rated.  However, I choose the nobler path... emulating Chaucer... Do you remember Chaucer from A Knight's Tale, "I will eviscerate you in fiction. Every pimple, every character flaw. I was naked for a day; you will be naked for eternity."  Beware the person who scorns the writer!  I didn't buy those clothes in my hands, but I did try them on, along with a two hundred dollar sexy dress that made me look amazing while still having sleeves and going an inch above my knees, but too much money and no place to wear it!

The last dress I tried on and didn't buy- didn't like that black line across my breasts. After this, I decided that running to the dressing room was a waste of time.  I actually found the best way to hear a conversation in the mall was walking in the hallway.  Anyone who was unfortunate enough to walk behind me, I typed what they said just as they said it.  My best conversations went unwritten and were with two different shop employees, which I didn't write down because I was too interested in shopping in the store to focus on my main agenda...my writing exercise. 

So, was my undercover trip to the mall successful?  Four hours, 11 different types of people, and 135 words noted.  Better than nothing, I guess.   

Messages to Mommy

I grew up having lots of pen pals. I loved writing letters to old friends (moved alot as a kid), people that we met on vacation (I could befriend anyone), former camp mates (Especially For Youth at BYU), or just plain strangers (other kids met in AOL chat rooms). However, my favorite all time pen pal was my sister, who was one year older than me- not to be confused with the one three years older who wrote me once (shame shame shame.)

Most people don't even like their sisters, let alone write them. But, most people live with their sisters, too. I, however, was a foster kid, and me and my sisters had been separated from each other since I was nine years old - not in different homes in the same city either- think me in Florida and them in Oregon, Texas, or Virginia. So, when you can only see your sisters for two weeks, every two years...you must write (no such thing as cell phones then and long distance bills were very expensive).

So, when my seven year old daughter, Gwendolynn, could pick anyone she wanted to be pen pals with- It was adorable that she choose me. For the last four weeks she writes me a letter in a notebook, then waits for me to read it and respond. Then, she secretly writes back. Though half of what she writes I can't make out, because she is still developing her writing and spelling skills, I adore her weekly messages to mommy.