Three Branches: A Linguistic Autobiography

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A linguistic autobiography–what does that even mean? I leaned back in my chair, trying to think of something to type for the essay workshop the next day. Groaning, I ran my hand over my face. What could I write? I don’t even know how to write an autobiography, and even if I did, I hate them. Why couldn’t this be an assignment about Shakespeare or something? Taking a deep breath, I looked at the title of my paper. “A Linguistic Autobiography”–how original was I? I sighed, and gazed longingly at my bed. A short nap couldn’t hurt. I slumped into bed and pulled my blanket over my head. After setting my alarm, I began to fade away... I opened my eyes and looked up at the yellow sky. What on Earth is going on? Where am I? I slowly stood up. Mud sloughed off my clothes, plopping into the slimy mud that covered the ground. I looked around. There were muddy hills as far as I could see. Above me, the sky shone yellow-orange, as it does on an early summer day. I turned away and saw something in the distance. Squinting, I could make out the shape of a tree. I glanced behind me; there was nothing but miles and miles of thick mud. I sighed. Might as well explore, I thought as I wandered in the direction of the tree. After several miles of tromping through the thick, slimy mud, I reached the hill with the tree upon it. Panting, I raced towards the hill and begin to climb it. My foot slid on the slick ground, but I persevered. I reached the top of the hill and felt disappointed. Trees were supposed to be surrounded by other plants and teeming with wildlife. Not this tree. The mud I trudged through covered the hill, coating the tree’s roots. There were no other plants. In fact, as I looked around, I noticed tha... ... middle of paper ... ... much going on in my head that I cannot always sort through it and form a complete thought. When I type or use a pen and pad of paper, I can get all my thoughts out in a neat and orderly fashion with few difficulties. I sighed and took a step back. These three branches were my language, the different ways I connected with others. They represented the three aspects of dialogue that make up me. Shaking my head, I looked around. There was nothing but mud. Well, I’m bored now. What do I do? Do I wait here, or... The sound of my alarm blaring woke me up. Groggily, I hit the off button and sat up. What a weird dream. That’s the last time I take a nap in the middle of English homework. Wait–I know what to do now! I jumped out of bed, nearly tripping over my backpack, and plopped down at my desk. I opened my laptop. With a small smile, I began to write.

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