The Creative Nonfiction Essay
In this assignment, I have been asked to write a memoir of my first month in class. This assignment is made to attempt to satisfy the requirements of the Creative Nonfiction Essay assignment.
Creative Nonfiction Essay Draft # 1
"How do I start this?" I ask myself sitting at my computer desk at my house. The hum of the computer fans, and the sounds of my mom shuffling around the dining room being what I hear. The smell of currently cooking pasta fills the air. The silence is occasionally interrupted by my old dog dexter's Barking for attention. "Hunter, I'm right here if you need anything." A voice says to me, its my mother reassuring me in regards to a panic attack i had earlier in the day. I sigh and look back upon my week reviews, with the exception of my week 2 review. The only copy is with my professor, however I know exactly how it and the time leading up to it went. I was happier, completely content with my life, I registered for classes late as usual. I never liked registering for classes when it first opened. "Why would I think about next semester when I am just starting this one?" I reasoned to myself. When I got to registering for classes, I was appalled at the horrendous layout of the website, which was cluttered and unfriendly, with me jumping back and forth between pages trying to select courses, having to repeat long and complicated jumps through multiple pages just to see what classes were available, I eventually got frustrated I got my mother to help me, because I was about to just take the semester off at that point. The only classes I managed to sign up for was French and English Composition. I dreaded Composition, because I knew how papers were with me in the past. The times I blew up before haunted me, but I tried to get it out of the way. When I actually got to class, I felt relieved that it was more lax than expected. However, the thought remained that it was going to get bad. when the second week rolled around, I felt fine about my whole situation. I felt secure about Class, and my part in it.
With a sudden beep of the oven, I'm snapped back to reality. "Hunter, do you want something to eat?" I go out into the kitchen, there is a simple salad consisting of lettuce, olives, and dressing; and baked ziti. I grab a handful of ziti with a halloween styled pumpkin scoop and place it on my plate, and I grab an apple on my way out. Sitting back down, I begin to think about my third week, about how I didn't see the part of the email about the class cancellation the preceding Thursday that labeled my assignments for that week, and how I rushed to get them done Thursday morning because I had work all day Wednesday. I explicitly remember me saying "Thank god for the learning commons" when I walked into my composition class.
My train of thought was interrupted by a single bark of a dog, my dog Dexter. I quietly groan to myself, I go into the kitchen and let my dog Dexter in from the outside. I grab another Plate of Ziti on my way back. After I finished off the ziti, I continue to read through my reflection papers. I come across reflections for week #4. "Its too short, god damnit." I muttered to myself. Most of the assignment was taken up by 3 summaries for papers I can barely remember. I feel a faded sense of relief, akin to that I felt when I was assigned to post the summaries with reflection #4, and I already had the summaries typed up. It was ultimately brief, and ultimately unsatisfying.
I took a look at the week 5 reflection, which I had written the morning earlier. My feelings for it haven't changed. I still felt hopeless, only being one month into the class, and in danger of failing from my own perceived incompetence. I still felt anger, and bitterness. The Raging inferno has since calmed into a flame, but it was stubborn, just like me. I looked down at my wrists, looking for a watch, which I never wore, to try to see if I was dreaming. I found nothing. "This is how it is." I thought to myself. I bit my lip and took a deep breath. I looked at the time, it was almost 3 hours since I started. The urge to get up and do something else grew in me, but I kept my hands on the keyboard. "I can't leave until I'm done." I Told myself "What else is there to do?" I responded "Look at the rubric." I took a quick look. Opening the Page, I felt a slight tinge of remorse for my anger, I know it is unlike me, I chose not to do anything about it, I knew I would be feeling angry again soon enough. I didn't make any changes, or do any more reflections. I was burnt out, and I needed to do something else. A small window opened in the corner of the screen, one of my friends just got online. I updated and published my site, then I sent him a message. He responded with a call, and we then talked about various things until i had to go to bed.
Thursday morning, I sit here continuing my story in the college Lobby. I had no time on wednesday to allocate towards this assignment. I took a quick look through what I have typed up. "I don't like this, I should start all over again." An angry voice mutters. "Then, you would have wasted all that time you spent" Another voice quickly responds. "I already wasted my time, I blew several hours basically typing up an overblown, half assed weekly review, with a bit of "showing Segments", and my current observations. There is no point in me trying to revise it, I would have to completely restart if I want it to look anything like I need it to. Its pathetic" The first voice growls. "Then delete it all, start all over again, see what I care." The second calmly responds. I freeze, I can't bring myself to delete my work, I am not proud of it, I want to destroy it all, to burn it to the ground in an act of Glorious self destructive defiance, but I simply cannot. "Perhaps, I should try to start the story from here?" I ask myself, "then what am I supposed to do with the 3 hours of bitching and moaning? Just delete it? Try to revise it? Or keep it the way it is?" I rub my head in frustration, trying to figure out what to do. "I'll keep it the way it is for now, lets just focus on here." I decide. My gaze darts around the room in an effort to spot a familiar face to talk to, to distract myself from my duty. I see no one. "You're not going to find anyone to save you from this." The angry voice tells me. "I know, it was worth a shot though." I reply curtly. "How am I supposed to turn this into a some sort of "one month memoir"? I can't recall events with enough accuracy to make any sort of story, let alone choose parts that would provide some sort of ample story" I point out. "I work best in the present, and unfortunately those events I'm supposed to recall can't be in the present." "Well, you should have thought of that before, idiot." The angry voice mutters to me "Couldn't you just try to adapt the past to the present?" The calm voice suggests "And, what would he do with the many hours worth of bullshit paragraphs that you care so much about?" The angry voice states, the calm voice responds "Keep it, use it to stress the point, to keep this piece of work relevant." I click publish, and decide I should do something else.
With a sudden beep of the oven, I'm snapped back to reality. "Hunter, do you want something to eat?" I go out into the kitchen, there is a simple salad consisting of lettuce, olives, and dressing; and baked ziti. I grab a handful of ziti with a halloween styled pumpkin scoop and place it on my plate, and I grab an apple on my way out. Sitting back down, I begin to think about my third week, about how I didn't see the part of the email about the class cancellation the preceding Thursday that labeled my assignments for that week, and how I rushed to get them done Thursday morning because I had work all day Wednesday. I explicitly remember me saying "Thank god for the learning commons" when I walked into my composition class.
My train of thought was interrupted by a single bark of a dog, my dog Dexter. I quietly groan to myself, I go into the kitchen and let my dog Dexter in from the outside. I grab another Plate of Ziti on my way back. After I finished off the ziti, I continue to read through my reflection papers. I come across reflections for week #4. "Its too short, god damnit." I muttered to myself. Most of the assignment was taken up by 3 summaries for papers I can barely remember. I feel a faded sense of relief, akin to that I felt when I was assigned to post the summaries with reflection #4, and I already had the summaries typed up. It was ultimately brief, and ultimately unsatisfying.
I took a look at the week 5 reflection, which I had written the morning earlier. My feelings for it haven't changed. I still felt hopeless, only being one month into the class, and in danger of failing from my own perceived incompetence. I still felt anger, and bitterness. The Raging inferno has since calmed into a flame, but it was stubborn, just like me. I looked down at my wrists, looking for a watch, which I never wore, to try to see if I was dreaming. I found nothing. "This is how it is." I thought to myself. I bit my lip and took a deep breath. I looked at the time, it was almost 3 hours since I started. The urge to get up and do something else grew in me, but I kept my hands on the keyboard. "I can't leave until I'm done." I Told myself "What else is there to do?" I responded "Look at the rubric." I took a quick look. Opening the Page, I felt a slight tinge of remorse for my anger, I know it is unlike me, I chose not to do anything about it, I knew I would be feeling angry again soon enough. I didn't make any changes, or do any more reflections. I was burnt out, and I needed to do something else. A small window opened in the corner of the screen, one of my friends just got online. I updated and published my site, then I sent him a message. He responded with a call, and we then talked about various things until i had to go to bed.
Thursday morning, I sit here continuing my story in the college Lobby. I had no time on wednesday to allocate towards this assignment. I took a quick look through what I have typed up. "I don't like this, I should start all over again." An angry voice mutters. "Then, you would have wasted all that time you spent" Another voice quickly responds. "I already wasted my time, I blew several hours basically typing up an overblown, half assed weekly review, with a bit of "showing Segments", and my current observations. There is no point in me trying to revise it, I would have to completely restart if I want it to look anything like I need it to. Its pathetic" The first voice growls. "Then delete it all, start all over again, see what I care." The second calmly responds. I freeze, I can't bring myself to delete my work, I am not proud of it, I want to destroy it all, to burn it to the ground in an act of Glorious self destructive defiance, but I simply cannot. "Perhaps, I should try to start the story from here?" I ask myself, "then what am I supposed to do with the 3 hours of bitching and moaning? Just delete it? Try to revise it? Or keep it the way it is?" I rub my head in frustration, trying to figure out what to do. "I'll keep it the way it is for now, lets just focus on here." I decide. My gaze darts around the room in an effort to spot a familiar face to talk to, to distract myself from my duty. I see no one. "You're not going to find anyone to save you from this." The angry voice tells me. "I know, it was worth a shot though." I reply curtly. "How am I supposed to turn this into a some sort of "one month memoir"? I can't recall events with enough accuracy to make any sort of story, let alone choose parts that would provide some sort of ample story" I point out. "I work best in the present, and unfortunately those events I'm supposed to recall can't be in the present." "Well, you should have thought of that before, idiot." The angry voice mutters to me "Couldn't you just try to adapt the past to the present?" The calm voice suggests "And, what would he do with the many hours worth of bullshit paragraphs that you care so much about?" The angry voice states, the calm voice responds "Keep it, use it to stress the point, to keep this piece of work relevant." I click publish, and decide I should do something else.
Creative Nonfiction Essay Draft #2
I glance at the Date, March 10th 2015. The morning I need to print out my first & second draft. How do I revise a work I attempted to complete several weeks ago? "Just Do it, Idiot" A quick surge of anger echoes throughout myself, and I send a fist through the computer I'm working at in the learning commons. I look up, and I was greeted by the same computer, untouched. "God damnit, am I going crazy?" I run my fingers through my hair and rest my head on my hand. "You are just paying more attention to the quick split second thoughts you see every day." I put my fingers back on the keyboard, I take a quick look at my wrists, in an attempt to find a watch, a signal I am dreaming. "I can't just take the bricks out of the foundation of a structure I am building. It would simply collapse." I try in vain to remember the moments over the past month. "Then add something to it, something in the present." I look about the learning commons, seeing people going about their day. "Focus, please. You already wasted enough time not working on it over the past weekend." I look at the keyboard, my eyes are draw to the letter "I". "try to contextualize the beginning, considering the revisions last time simply involved adding a paragraph to the end." I look back at my wrists, and I change the song on my music player, it doesn't compliment the ears at the current moment. "Why can't I just go back and change things to better support how I work now?" I see quickly mashed into the keyboard "you didn't feel that way then. Your memory is ultimately unreliable, and it isn't practical to record every single moment of your life. You would feel guilty with the slightest possible mistake in continuity. In changing your writing, you are rewriting yourself, erasing yourself." I look at my wrists again, this time, for a split second, I see myself driving a blade into my left wrist. "That is what drafts are for." I look at the time on the computer, 8:23 AM, and realize I have around another hour to push out a revision.
"How Do I Start This?" I Ask Myself Sitting At My Computer Desk At My House. I take a quick glance at the date in the corner of my computer, February 24th 2015. The Hum Of The Computer Fans, And The Sounds Of My Mom Shuffling Around The Dining Room accompanying me. The Smell Of Currently baking Pasta Fills The Air. The Silence Is Occasionally Interrupted By My Old Dog Dexter's sporadic Barking, simply for the sake of Barking. "Hunter, I'm Right Here If You Need Anything." A Voice Says To Me, Its My Mother Reassuring Me In Regards To A Panic Attack I Had Earlier In The Day. I Sigh And Look Back Upon My Week Reviews, With The Exception Of My Week 2 Review. The Only Copy Is With My Professor, However I Know Exactly How It And The Time Leading Up To It Went. I Was Happier, Completely Content With My Life, I Registered For Classes Late As Usual. I Never Liked Registering For Classes When It First Opened. "Why Would I Think About Next Semester When I Am Just Starting This One?" I Reasoned To Myself. When I Got To Registering For Classes, I Was Appalled At The Horrendous Layout Of The Website, Which Was Cluttered And Unfriendly, With Me Jumping Back And Forth Between Pages Trying To Select Courses, Having To Repeat Long And Complicated trips Through Multiple Pages and loading times Just To double check What Classes Were Available, I Eventually Got Frustrated I Got My Mother To Help Me, Because I Was About To simply give up, and Take The Semester Off At That Point. I knew my father wouldn't be happy if I took that route. The Only Classes I Managed To Sign Up For Was French And English Composition. I Dreaded Composition, Because I Knew How Papers Were With Me In The Past. The Times I Blew Up Before Haunted Me, But I Tried To Get It Out Of The Way. When I Actually Got To Class, I Felt Relieved That It Was More Lax Than Expected. However, The Thought Remained That It Was Going To Get Bad. When The Second Week Rolled Around, I Felt Fine About My Whole Situation. I Felt Secure About Class, And My Part In It.
With A Sudden Beep Of The Oven, I'm Snapped Back To Reality. "Hunter, Do You Want Something To Eat?" I Go Out Into The Kitchen, There Is A Simple Salad Consisting Of Lettuce, Olives, And Dressing; And Baked Ziti. I Grab A Handful Of Ziti With A Halloween Styled Pumpkin Scoop And Place It On My Plate, And I Grab An Apple On My Way Out, in order to expand the meal. Sitting Back Down, I Begin To Think About My Third Week, About How I Didn't See The Part Of The Email About The Class Cancellation The Preceding Thursday That Labeled My Assignments For That Week, And How I Rushed To Get Them Done Thursday Morning Because I Had Work All Day Wednesday. I Explicitly Remember Me Saying "Thank God For The Learning Commons" When I Walked Into My Composition Class.
My Train Of Thought Was Interrupted By yet another bark from Dexter, it is distant and slightly muffled this time. I sigh, I get up, waltz into The Kitchen, I open the back door and let him in. I Grab Another Plate Of Ziti, and the olives not used in the salad, still in the can, on My way back. After I Finished Off The Ziti, I Continue To Read Through My Reflection Papers. I Come Across Reflections For Week #4. "Its Too Short, God Damnit." I Muttered To Myself. Most Of The Assignment Was Taken Up By 3 Summaries For Papers I Can Barely Remember. I Feel A Faded Sense Of Relief, Akin To That I Felt When I Was Assigned To Post The Summaries With Reflection #4, And I Already Had The Summaries Typed Up. It Was Ultimately Brief, And Unsatisfying.
I Took A Look At The Week 5 Reflection, Which I Had Written The Morning Earlier. My Feelings For It Haven't Changed. I Still Felt Hopeless, Only Being One Month Into The Class, And In Danger Of Failing From My Own Perceived Incompetence. I Still Felt Anger, And Bitterness. The Raging Inferno Has Since Calmed Into A Flame, But It Was Stubborn, Just Like Me. I Looked Down At My Wrists, Looking For A Watch, Which I Never Wore, To Try To See If I Was Dreaming. I Found Nothing. "This Is How It Is." I Thought To Myself. I Bit My Lip And Took A Deep Breath. I Looked At The Time, It Was Almost 3 Hours Since I Started. The Urge To Get Up And Do Something Else Grew In Me, But I Kept My Hands On The Keyboard. "I Can't Leave Until I'm Done." I Told Myself "What Else Is There To Do?" I decide to check a quick look at the rubric. Opening The Page, I Felt A Slight Tinge Of Remorse For My Anger, I Know It Is Unlike Me, I Chose Not To Do Anything About It, I Knew I Would Be Feeling Angry Again Soon Enough. I Didn't Make Any Changes, Or Do Any More Reflections. I Was Burnt Out, And I Needed To Do Something Else. A Small Window Opened In The Corner Of The Screen, One Of My Friends Just Got Online. I Updated And Published My Site, Then I Sent Him A Message. He Responded With A Call, And We Then Talked About Various Things Until I Had To Go To Bed.
Thursday Morning, I Sit in the lobby of the stem building Continuing My Story. I Had No Time On Wednesday To Allocate Towards This Assignment. I Took A Quick Look Through What I Have Typed Up. "I Don't Like This, I Should Start All Over Again. I Wasted My Time, I Blew Several Hours Basically Typing Up Another Half Assed Weekly Review, expanded to cover the month, With A Bit Of "Showing Segments", And My Current Observations. There Is No Point In Me Trying To Revise It, I Would Have To Completely Restart If I Want It To Look Anything Like I Need It To. Its Pathetic" Despite my attempts, I Can't Bring Myself To Delete My Work. I don't feel proud of it, I Want To Destroy It All, To Burn It To The Ground In An Act Of Glorious Self Destructive Defiance, But the thoughts of consequence push me away from even trying."Perhaps, I Should Try To Start The Story From Here." Then I consider the audience trudging through a bland and ineffective paper. I Rub My Head In Frustration, Trying To Figure Out What To Do. "I'll Keep It The Way It Is For Now, Lets Just Focus On Here." My Gaze Darts Around The Room In An Effort To Spot A Familiar Face To Talk To, To Distract Myself From My Duty. I See No One. "You're Not Going To Find Anyone To Save You From This." I glance back at the screen "How Am I Supposed To Turn This Into A Some Sort Of "One Month Memoir"? I Can't Recall Events With Enough Accuracy To Make Any Sort Of Story, Let Alone Choose Parts That Would Provide Some Sort Of Ample Story, I Work Best In The Present, And Unfortunately Those Events I'm Supposed To Recall Can't Be In The Present." I close my eyes and sigh "Couldn't You Just Try To Adapt The Past To The Present?" thinking back to when I looked at the definition of what creative nonfiction. "there isn't any more point in arguing with yourself. Class is going to start soon." I Click Publish, And Decide I Should go wait for class to begin.
"How Do I Start This?" I Ask Myself Sitting At My Computer Desk At My House. I take a quick glance at the date in the corner of my computer, February 24th 2015. The Hum Of The Computer Fans, And The Sounds Of My Mom Shuffling Around The Dining Room accompanying me. The Smell Of Currently baking Pasta Fills The Air. The Silence Is Occasionally Interrupted By My Old Dog Dexter's sporadic Barking, simply for the sake of Barking. "Hunter, I'm Right Here If You Need Anything." A Voice Says To Me, Its My Mother Reassuring Me In Regards To A Panic Attack I Had Earlier In The Day. I Sigh And Look Back Upon My Week Reviews, With The Exception Of My Week 2 Review. The Only Copy Is With My Professor, However I Know Exactly How It And The Time Leading Up To It Went. I Was Happier, Completely Content With My Life, I Registered For Classes Late As Usual. I Never Liked Registering For Classes When It First Opened. "Why Would I Think About Next Semester When I Am Just Starting This One?" I Reasoned To Myself. When I Got To Registering For Classes, I Was Appalled At The Horrendous Layout Of The Website, Which Was Cluttered And Unfriendly, With Me Jumping Back And Forth Between Pages Trying To Select Courses, Having To Repeat Long And Complicated trips Through Multiple Pages and loading times Just To double check What Classes Were Available, I Eventually Got Frustrated I Got My Mother To Help Me, Because I Was About To simply give up, and Take The Semester Off At That Point. I knew my father wouldn't be happy if I took that route. The Only Classes I Managed To Sign Up For Was French And English Composition. I Dreaded Composition, Because I Knew How Papers Were With Me In The Past. The Times I Blew Up Before Haunted Me, But I Tried To Get It Out Of The Way. When I Actually Got To Class, I Felt Relieved That It Was More Lax Than Expected. However, The Thought Remained That It Was Going To Get Bad. When The Second Week Rolled Around, I Felt Fine About My Whole Situation. I Felt Secure About Class, And My Part In It.
With A Sudden Beep Of The Oven, I'm Snapped Back To Reality. "Hunter, Do You Want Something To Eat?" I Go Out Into The Kitchen, There Is A Simple Salad Consisting Of Lettuce, Olives, And Dressing; And Baked Ziti. I Grab A Handful Of Ziti With A Halloween Styled Pumpkin Scoop And Place It On My Plate, And I Grab An Apple On My Way Out, in order to expand the meal. Sitting Back Down, I Begin To Think About My Third Week, About How I Didn't See The Part Of The Email About The Class Cancellation The Preceding Thursday That Labeled My Assignments For That Week, And How I Rushed To Get Them Done Thursday Morning Because I Had Work All Day Wednesday. I Explicitly Remember Me Saying "Thank God For The Learning Commons" When I Walked Into My Composition Class.
My Train Of Thought Was Interrupted By yet another bark from Dexter, it is distant and slightly muffled this time. I sigh, I get up, waltz into The Kitchen, I open the back door and let him in. I Grab Another Plate Of Ziti, and the olives not used in the salad, still in the can, on My way back. After I Finished Off The Ziti, I Continue To Read Through My Reflection Papers. I Come Across Reflections For Week #4. "Its Too Short, God Damnit." I Muttered To Myself. Most Of The Assignment Was Taken Up By 3 Summaries For Papers I Can Barely Remember. I Feel A Faded Sense Of Relief, Akin To That I Felt When I Was Assigned To Post The Summaries With Reflection #4, And I Already Had The Summaries Typed Up. It Was Ultimately Brief, And Unsatisfying.
I Took A Look At The Week 5 Reflection, Which I Had Written The Morning Earlier. My Feelings For It Haven't Changed. I Still Felt Hopeless, Only Being One Month Into The Class, And In Danger Of Failing From My Own Perceived Incompetence. I Still Felt Anger, And Bitterness. The Raging Inferno Has Since Calmed Into A Flame, But It Was Stubborn, Just Like Me. I Looked Down At My Wrists, Looking For A Watch, Which I Never Wore, To Try To See If I Was Dreaming. I Found Nothing. "This Is How It Is." I Thought To Myself. I Bit My Lip And Took A Deep Breath. I Looked At The Time, It Was Almost 3 Hours Since I Started. The Urge To Get Up And Do Something Else Grew In Me, But I Kept My Hands On The Keyboard. "I Can't Leave Until I'm Done." I Told Myself "What Else Is There To Do?" I decide to check a quick look at the rubric. Opening The Page, I Felt A Slight Tinge Of Remorse For My Anger, I Know It Is Unlike Me, I Chose Not To Do Anything About It, I Knew I Would Be Feeling Angry Again Soon Enough. I Didn't Make Any Changes, Or Do Any More Reflections. I Was Burnt Out, And I Needed To Do Something Else. A Small Window Opened In The Corner Of The Screen, One Of My Friends Just Got Online. I Updated And Published My Site, Then I Sent Him A Message. He Responded With A Call, And We Then Talked About Various Things Until I Had To Go To Bed.
Thursday Morning, I Sit in the lobby of the stem building Continuing My Story. I Had No Time On Wednesday To Allocate Towards This Assignment. I Took A Quick Look Through What I Have Typed Up. "I Don't Like This, I Should Start All Over Again. I Wasted My Time, I Blew Several Hours Basically Typing Up Another Half Assed Weekly Review, expanded to cover the month, With A Bit Of "Showing Segments", And My Current Observations. There Is No Point In Me Trying To Revise It, I Would Have To Completely Restart If I Want It To Look Anything Like I Need It To. Its Pathetic" Despite my attempts, I Can't Bring Myself To Delete My Work. I don't feel proud of it, I Want To Destroy It All, To Burn It To The Ground In An Act Of Glorious Self Destructive Defiance, But the thoughts of consequence push me away from even trying."Perhaps, I Should Try To Start The Story From Here." Then I consider the audience trudging through a bland and ineffective paper. I Rub My Head In Frustration, Trying To Figure Out What To Do. "I'll Keep It The Way It Is For Now, Lets Just Focus On Here." My Gaze Darts Around The Room In An Effort To Spot A Familiar Face To Talk To, To Distract Myself From My Duty. I See No One. "You're Not Going To Find Anyone To Save You From This." I glance back at the screen "How Am I Supposed To Turn This Into A Some Sort Of "One Month Memoir"? I Can't Recall Events With Enough Accuracy To Make Any Sort Of Story, Let Alone Choose Parts That Would Provide Some Sort Of Ample Story, I Work Best In The Present, And Unfortunately Those Events I'm Supposed To Recall Can't Be In The Present." I close my eyes and sigh "Couldn't You Just Try To Adapt The Past To The Present?" thinking back to when I looked at the definition of what creative nonfiction. "there isn't any more point in arguing with yourself. Class is going to start soon." I Click Publish, And Decide I Should go wait for class to begin.
Creative Nonfiction Essay Draft #3
I glance at the Date; Tuesday, March 10th, 2015. The morning
my first and second draft of the Creative Nonfiction Essay, however I haven't worked upon my second draft at all, nor have I printed out either one, so I sit here, in the learning commons of the Delaware County Community College typing away, working to improve my work to my own satisfaction. "How do I revise a work I attempted to
complete several weeks ago?" "Just Do it, Idiot" A quick surge of anger
echoes throughout myself, and I send a fist through the computer I'm
working at. I look up, and I was greeted by the
same computer, completely untouched. "God dammit, am I going crazy?" I run my
fingers through my hair and rest my head on my hand. "You are just
paying more attention to the quick split second thoughts you see every
day." I put my fingers back on the keyboard, I take a quick look at my
wrists, in an attempt to find a watch, a signal I am dreaming. "I can't
just take the bricks out of the foundation of a structure I am building.
It would simply collapse." I try in vain to remember the moments over
the past month. "Then add something to it, something in the present." I
look about the learning commons, seeing people going about their day.
"Focus, please. You already wasted enough time not working on it over
the past weekend." I look at the keyboard, my eyes are draw to the
letter "I". "Try to contextualize the beginning, considering the
revisions last time simply involved adding a paragraph to the end." I
look back at my wrists, and I change the song on my music player, it
doesn't compliment the ears at the current moment. "Why can't I just go
back and change things to better support how I work now?" I see quickly
mashed into the keyboard "You didn't feel the same way you feel now at that moment, and that makes your memory is
ultimately unreliable, and it isn't practical to record every single
moment of your life. I know you well enough to say you would feel guilty with the slightest possible
mistake in continuity. So Ultimately, In changing your writing, you are rewriting
yourself, erasing yourself." I look at my wrists again, this time, for a
split second, I see myself driving a blade into my left wrist. "That is
what drafts are for." I look at the time on the computer, 8:23 AM, and
realize I have around another hour to push out a revision before it is due, I decide to simply start writing down my thoughts in approaching the assignment in order to capture the overbearing stress I've felt over the past month, as writing assignments made my first month more and more miserable.
This little issue of mine has been going on for many years now, I don't know why it is, where it stems from, or if I can stop it. All I know is that the stress of there writing assignments in the past month, has spilled over to practically all parts of my life. It wasn't always like this, before the assignments began I was a very content individual, the most stress I had was with my job at Panera Bread, but that was simple and I saw purpose in my work, therefore I enjoyed it. Moving on to classes, I registered for classes late, as usual. This was because I never liked registering for classes when the opportunity first presented itself, despite everyone telling me that I should do so earlier, especially my grandmother. I can already hear my Grandmother telling me, yet again That "If you don't Remember to sign up for classes, all the ones you want will be taken!". I never said anything back, because I don't like arguing, but If I were to, I would probably say something along the lines of: "Why Would I Think About Next Semester When I Am in the middle of This One?". Regardless of my reasoning the fact remains that I haven't registered for classes and it was already January. When I went on to the Delagate website to register for courses, I was met with a maze of loading screens and vague links, it was simply horrendous! I spent the good part of Half an hour before I Was About To break something in frustration. The thought of simply taking the semester off appeared in my mind "Yes, I could; but over a simple website layout? Besides Dad would be pissed. Go get mom to help you." After talking with her she sat down with me and we managed to get my classes selected, however the site wouldn't let me pay for it, it said I didn't have access to my own account. I probably reacted by saying: "How many bloody passwords do I need for this website?!" I eventually had to go in and talk with a counselor, and have him do it for me. At the end of the day I was stuck with French 111, a class I was looking forward to taking, and English composition 101, which I immediately began to worry about. I dreaded the idea of attending a composition class, considering all the papers I would be required to write, but I had to get it out of the way. When the first day rolled around, I felt rather relieved at the structure of the class, it appeared very simple and low stress, I felt that I had a chance."Well that takes care of the first & second week reflection." I close my eyes for a moment. "Don't worry, you'll be fretting about the quality of it soon enough."
The third week was simple, in which I had no classes. That Tuesday was a snow day, I don't recall it being very notable in the snowfall category. I was happy simply to have the day off, I thought I had off at my job at panera as well, but they decided to open later than usual, which was much to my dismay. Thursday rolled around, and I waited outside of the room as usual. I noticed the lights were out in the room and there were no students waiting outside. "Hmm, that's strange, oh well I probably shouldn't think too much about it." When 9:35 rolled around, I noticed the room hasn't changed from its idle darkness, however many of my classmates were waiting outside with me. After a bit of discussion, I find the email that stated that there was no class, I unfortunately only looked that far. I didn't see that I had assignments due the following Tuesday, and with that the descent into madness begun. The fourth week and fifth week were filled with anger and depression, one in which I hadn't felt since around 10th grade. I spent a lot of time pushing it all away with video games and events with my friends, in hopes that it would simply be deleted from reality. As usual, I was disappointed to find it waiting for me in the back of my mind any time I looked. The Wednesday of the 5th week was the height of the depression. My day started off with the same jovial cheer it usually does, however I believe I had a paper due. I could've worked on it the morning of, but I didn't; I decided to squeeze in whatever little free time I could that morning, because I wouldn't be back until later. When I got to work, the atmosphere began to change, generally customers can annoy me slightly with their unintentional antics, with leaving dishes on the tables, making a mess of the soda and coffee stations, however that day the feelings were much worse. My mind began to become flooded with violent thoughts, towards the customers! I didn't act out upon anything, thank god. Eventually, without me being able to take the frustration out upon anything, I went into the back, and when one fellow employee approached me on the matter, I simply broke into tears. My manager let me go home, because they had too many people working that day, to my luck. The ride home as a walk of shame for me, my mom told me I was too hard on myself, I would like to say she's right. I spent the rest of the day thinking about my situation, and I eventually decided to cut back on my caring for it severely, as it wasn't good for my mental health.
"Well, I think that's it." I start to think about all of the things I could have written, all the little things that still can be pulled up out of the depths. "No, I have to finish it, but how?" I close my eyes, I try to silence the thoughts. I don't even want to look back upon what I had written. "You have to, what if you made a mistake." I decide to try and reread it, just to get rid of any small errors, only I start to see errors out of the corners of my eyes, disappearing when I look at them. "Just finish it." the thoughts begin to chant "How?" My eyes start darting around the page, desperately looking for something to fix, but cannot find anything, for I don't want to change what I have written. "Finish it" As it becomes louder and louder, the random sentences start becoming less and less relevant, and I find myself rereading them 2 to 3 times just to process them. "Finish it" I look at the time, I realize there is less than half an hour before class starts. I look down at my wrists, no watch. I close my eyes and silently mutter to myself "I have to finish it." I press publish, I grab my stuff, and I go to wait outside for class to begin.
This little issue of mine has been going on for many years now, I don't know why it is, where it stems from, or if I can stop it. All I know is that the stress of there writing assignments in the past month, has spilled over to practically all parts of my life. It wasn't always like this, before the assignments began I was a very content individual, the most stress I had was with my job at Panera Bread, but that was simple and I saw purpose in my work, therefore I enjoyed it. Moving on to classes, I registered for classes late, as usual. This was because I never liked registering for classes when the opportunity first presented itself, despite everyone telling me that I should do so earlier, especially my grandmother. I can already hear my Grandmother telling me, yet again That "If you don't Remember to sign up for classes, all the ones you want will be taken!". I never said anything back, because I don't like arguing, but If I were to, I would probably say something along the lines of: "Why Would I Think About Next Semester When I Am in the middle of This One?". Regardless of my reasoning the fact remains that I haven't registered for classes and it was already January. When I went on to the Delagate website to register for courses, I was met with a maze of loading screens and vague links, it was simply horrendous! I spent the good part of Half an hour before I Was About To break something in frustration. The thought of simply taking the semester off appeared in my mind "Yes, I could; but over a simple website layout? Besides Dad would be pissed. Go get mom to help you." After talking with her she sat down with me and we managed to get my classes selected, however the site wouldn't let me pay for it, it said I didn't have access to my own account. I probably reacted by saying: "How many bloody passwords do I need for this website?!" I eventually had to go in and talk with a counselor, and have him do it for me. At the end of the day I was stuck with French 111, a class I was looking forward to taking, and English composition 101, which I immediately began to worry about. I dreaded the idea of attending a composition class, considering all the papers I would be required to write, but I had to get it out of the way. When the first day rolled around, I felt rather relieved at the structure of the class, it appeared very simple and low stress, I felt that I had a chance."Well that takes care of the first & second week reflection." I close my eyes for a moment. "Don't worry, you'll be fretting about the quality of it soon enough."
The third week was simple, in which I had no classes. That Tuesday was a snow day, I don't recall it being very notable in the snowfall category. I was happy simply to have the day off, I thought I had off at my job at panera as well, but they decided to open later than usual, which was much to my dismay. Thursday rolled around, and I waited outside of the room as usual. I noticed the lights were out in the room and there were no students waiting outside. "Hmm, that's strange, oh well I probably shouldn't think too much about it." When 9:35 rolled around, I noticed the room hasn't changed from its idle darkness, however many of my classmates were waiting outside with me. After a bit of discussion, I find the email that stated that there was no class, I unfortunately only looked that far. I didn't see that I had assignments due the following Tuesday, and with that the descent into madness begun. The fourth week and fifth week were filled with anger and depression, one in which I hadn't felt since around 10th grade. I spent a lot of time pushing it all away with video games and events with my friends, in hopes that it would simply be deleted from reality. As usual, I was disappointed to find it waiting for me in the back of my mind any time I looked. The Wednesday of the 5th week was the height of the depression. My day started off with the same jovial cheer it usually does, however I believe I had a paper due. I could've worked on it the morning of, but I didn't; I decided to squeeze in whatever little free time I could that morning, because I wouldn't be back until later. When I got to work, the atmosphere began to change, generally customers can annoy me slightly with their unintentional antics, with leaving dishes on the tables, making a mess of the soda and coffee stations, however that day the feelings were much worse. My mind began to become flooded with violent thoughts, towards the customers! I didn't act out upon anything, thank god. Eventually, without me being able to take the frustration out upon anything, I went into the back, and when one fellow employee approached me on the matter, I simply broke into tears. My manager let me go home, because they had too many people working that day, to my luck. The ride home as a walk of shame for me, my mom told me I was too hard on myself, I would like to say she's right. I spent the rest of the day thinking about my situation, and I eventually decided to cut back on my caring for it severely, as it wasn't good for my mental health.
"Well, I think that's it." I start to think about all of the things I could have written, all the little things that still can be pulled up out of the depths. "No, I have to finish it, but how?" I close my eyes, I try to silence the thoughts. I don't even want to look back upon what I had written. "You have to, what if you made a mistake." I decide to try and reread it, just to get rid of any small errors, only I start to see errors out of the corners of my eyes, disappearing when I look at them. "Just finish it." the thoughts begin to chant "How?" My eyes start darting around the page, desperately looking for something to fix, but cannot find anything, for I don't want to change what I have written. "Finish it" As it becomes louder and louder, the random sentences start becoming less and less relevant, and I find myself rereading them 2 to 3 times just to process them. "Finish it" I look at the time, I realize there is less than half an hour before class starts. I look down at my wrists, no watch. I close my eyes and silently mutter to myself "I have to finish it." I press publish, I grab my stuff, and I go to wait outside for class to begin.