Short Skirt, Long Jacket :: Personal Narrative Writing

Short Skirt, Long Jacket After stuffing my brains with knowledge of Communication, Controls, and Signal Processing and then force-feeding my eyes with 150 pages of text for my literature class, I leave the library dispirited and walk slowly home. My mind has left my body and is hovering overhead, observing me go through the simple motion of placing one foot in front of the other on the sidewalk. What seems to be an effortless action is actually a complex system of muscles, nerves, and electric impulses that culminate in a carefully rehearsed pattern, the perfected 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 first thing I do when I get back is to take 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 put any clock to shame. I then drag myself to the bathroom sink and brush my teeth, returning to my room to Oxy cleanse my face. I briefly toy with the idea 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. It’s two o’clock 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 tend to annihilate their own greatness when the part of my brain that finds ways to procrastinate 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 remember†¦I have Cake. I want a girl with a mind like a diamond. I want a girl who knows what's best. I want a girl with shoes 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 will consume it, but for everyday pleasure there are Pop Tarts from the vending machine.