Short Skirt, Long Jacket :: Personal Narrative Writing

Short Skirt, Long JacketAfter binding my brains with knowledge of Communication, Controls, and Signal Processing and then force-feeding my eyes with 150 pages of school text for my literature class, I leave the library dispirited and walk late home. My mind has left my body and is hovering overhead, observing me go through the childly motion of placing one foot in front of the other on the sidewalk. What seems to be an effortless action is actually a complex governing body of muscles, nerves, and electric impulses that culminate in a carefully rehearsed pattern, the perfected dirty shuffle of my feet. Totally discouraged and ready to go to sleep, I slip in my room and continue with my automated performance for my suspended self. The first intimacy I do when I get back is to take push through my contacts. Since it also happens to be Sunday, I must add an enzymatic cleansing agent tablet to the storage solution. I do this with an efficiency that would put some(prenomin al) clock to shame. I then drag myself to the bathroom sink and embroil my teeth, returning to my room to Oxy cleanse my face. I briefly toy with the persuasion of wearing my retainers but decide against it and leave them to hibernate peacefully in their protective plastic yellow case. When I am done 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 ability to think, at its ability to perform under such adverse conditions. However, those superior skills bleed to annihilate their own greatness when the part of my brain that finds ways to continue continues to be productive. My blinding intelligence formulates some complex string 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 compulsion a girl with a mind like a diamond.I want a girl who knows whats best.I want a girl with habilitate that cut and Eyes that burn like cigarettes.No, not cake the dessert, although I enjoy that also. That kind of cake tends to appear on birthdays, which is when I give consume it, but for everyday pleasure there are scratch off Tarts from the vending machine.