October 4, 2005  

kal_el_of_unl 37M
3 posts
10/4/2005 6:55 am

Last Read:
3/5/2006 9:27 pm

October 4, 2005

Sorry it's been a few days folks, but naturally I've been busy. Don't really have much to say, but I thought I'd post a snippet of a paper I wrote for an English assignment and see what anyone else thinks. Here it is:

When told that we had to do a 5 page paper about a specific person last week, I thought to myself “How the hell am I going to do this? True, my capacity for thought rivals Einstein, but creative writing about a person? Where do I start? How should I proceed?”
I went to all the people I knew one by one. I decided to go out to my parents’ house in Waverly and start with them. I wasn’t going to outright ask my parents to do things that I could use in a paper. That would seem contrived. No, to find the right person to write about I would first observe, then the most interesting person would be my unknowing subject. I pretended to just be watching tv on my parents’ couch, little did they know, the peripheral vision in my constantly sparkling blue eyes was ceaselessly scanning like that scene from “The Terminator” where Arnold is trying to find Sarah Conner in the parking garage, except my intent wasn’t to kill anyone, at least not tonight, but that’s a different story.
My Dad had already changed out of his office clothes for the day and into his requisite v-cut white t-shirt and light blue sweatpants that he’s had for as long as I can remember. This caused me to stop scanning “My God, how old are those things anyways? Seriously, why have I never wondered before how those sweatpants are still holding together after all these years? Is it physically possible for cotton to hold together that long?” I snapped back to attention and continued my recon of the targets. My Dad walked across the living room like “Mufasa”. He was the king of all he surveyed (which at this moment consisted of the living room) and growing up he always made sure my brothers and I knew it. He got to his recliner and eased himself into it. He could no longer plop down in a chair like he wished thanks to the beginning of “old-man-itis” which is a condition where men in their 50’s try to get attention from their children and spouse by claiming to be in so much more pain than they really are. Coincidentally, my mother suffers from “old-woman-itis”. I seem to be the only one in the family who doesn’t fall for it, but I digress. My Dad started searching his surroundings like Indiana Jones desperately wanting to find the latest bible relic before the Nazis. Then his blue eyes found what he was looking for. He reached to the night table between his and my mother’s chairs. Like King Arthur pulling Excalibur from the stone he retrieved the television remote from the remote cubby and clasped it in his firm hand as if to say “my preccccciouuuuuuuus……” And my eyes may have been playing tricks on me, but a wind seemed to gust through the living room and blow around my dad’s closely cropped dark brown hair (which was just barely starting to show some gray), making him look like he was being introduced in the opening credits of a WB teen drama.

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