Thursday, January 31, 2019

Short Skirt, Long Jacket :: Personal Narrative Writing

Short Skirt, Long Jacket after(prenominal) stuffing my brains with have it offledge of Communication, Controls, and Signal Processing and then force-feeding my eyes with one hundred fifty pages of text for my literature class, I leave the library dispirited and crack slowly home. My mind has left my body and is hovering overhead, observing me go with the simple motion of placing one foot in front of the early(a) on the sidewalk. What seems to be an effortless action is actually a building complex system of muscles, nerves, and electric impulses that culminate in a c befully rehearsed pattern, the amend sloppy shuffle of my feet. Totally discouraged and ready to go to sleep, I enter my room and continue with my automated performance for my suspended self. The maiden thing I do when I get back is to ca-ca out my contacts. Since it also happens to be Sunday, I must add an enzymatic cleaner tablet to the storage solution. I do this with an efficiency that would ascribe any clock to shame. I then drag myself to the bathroom overhaul and brush my teeth, returning to my room to Oxy cleanse my face. I briefly work with the idea of wearing my retainers only decide against it and leave them to hibernate peacefully in their protective plastic yellow case. When I am do with this ritual, I indulge myself with the thought of falling asleep, but I know I have work waiting for me. Its two oclock and my brain is still good. I marvel at its office to think, at its ability to perform under such adverse conditions. However, those skipper skills tend to annihilate their own greatness when the part of my brain that finds slipway to procrastinate continues to be productive. My blinding intelligence formulates some complex run of logic that tells me it is okay to give up, and I begin to head for bed, but then I rememberI have Cake.I indispensableness a girlfriend with a mind like a diamond.I want a girl who knows whats best.I want a girl with shoes that c ut and Eyes that burn like cigarettes.No, not surface the dessert, although I enjoy that also. That kind of cake tends to appear on birthdays, which is when I will consume it, but for everyday pleasure there are Pop Tarts from the vending machine.

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