I’m not very sentimental about *things*, generally. I usually have no qualms tossing objects such as clothes, books, toys, and stuff into the garbage when they have outlived their natural life. The one exception to this is old writings and drawings. A testament, no doubt, to how important my creative output is to me.
I was shuffling though my old files of academic papers, laughing at much of the horrid writing, or nodding my head in agreement at some point or another, when I came upon an old essay I wrote way back in my Junior year of high school. This is, incidentially, the time I started saving all my creative stuff.
Today, I read this and wonder just what the hell I was thinking writing this tripe, and what crack my teacher was smoking to give it an A. My only defense is I was stumped, the paper was due first thing the next morning, so I just turned on my bullshit-spewing machine and started writing. The assignment was to write a narrative of some memorable or meaningful event in my life. Enjoy.