I stared at the blinking cursor, unbelieving at what I had just done. I was indeed done; done with a paper I agonized over for 6 hours. The paper was due in a scant 4 hours and I had all week to do it. The radio had stopped working because my brother got on the Internet and thus cut off my connection. That was the least of my problems working on this paper. I got it done, though. My life changed with one trip of a teacher to the chalkboard and one phrase, narrative essay. God, I hate narrative essays.
My day was going well. I devoured a big breakfast, my brother, for once, got out of the shower quick, and no major assignment was pending. Life was very, very good. Then life began to fall into oblivion. I saw on the board in the front of Mrs. Smith's room the journal entry for the day. It was about what would I write about in a narrative essay. Hope faded away. Somewhere on the planet a nuclear bomb went. An earthquake struck in some unknown place on the Earth. A volcano erupted on Jupiter's moon Io and killed a bunch of Ionians. Somebody's red rose just wilted and the petals fell onto the ground. The end of the world was indeed upon us. My jaw dropped and warning bells went off in my head. I went completely and utterly blank. I tried as hard as I could to write my journal. Channel One came on and talked about a nuclear bomb going off in India that caused an earthquake that somehow caused a volcano to erupt on Io (that killed a bunch of aliens). My jaw dropped once again. It was now the floor. As I was finishing my journal, Mrs. Smith went to the front of the room and talked about, du du du, narrative papers. She gave us a cold, white study guide that gave me no hope for survival. She then gave us another evil sheet of pap...
... middle of paper ...
... am to get a halfway decent grade. So, I started it up and felt confident that I was going to get it done.
God, I hate narrative essays. You have to write about your own personal experiences and expect to get a three-page paper out of it. I have no events in my life that would fit a three-page paper. The events in my life are either to foggy in my mind, are too insignificant in my mind to fit a three-page paper, or are too big and broad to be able to fit in an essay and would need a 500-page book to explain. I do far better at other kinds of essays than narratives, such as the persuasive paper. I look forward to those kinds of essays more than I look forward at all to doing any more narrative essays. In, the mean time, however, I am going to try to get James to get off the Internet. Maybe then I may have a better narrative topic. I hate narrative essays anyway.
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