It wasn’t very long ago, so I remember it in great detail. I had to write a journal for English class. The journal was to be written about the book The Things They Carried. Although I enjoyed the book, I didn’t really like writing the journal. See, the problem is that I waited till the last minute to begin it. It was the weekend and I was thinking about things that I had to do. Then it suddenly hit me. “Crap, I have to write nine journals for English by tomorrow.”
I immediately opened up the assignment file and began reading the requirements. I thought at first, “This shouldn’t take too long, I just need to find that little message at the top that says to just choose 2 out of the 9 journals to complete.” That message was non-existent. I had to do all nine. “Great…”
So, here I am, knocking out these journals. They’re supposed to be a page long, but I’m making the font size slightly larger and stopping at three-quarters of a page so that I can save a little time.
A little while later I have written six of the journals. I skipped all of the journals that didn’t seem to make any sense to me.
I come across one that asks me to write a metafiction. I think to myself “What the hell is a metafiction?” I frantically open up google, wikipedia, or any other search engine I could find. I start to read up on what a metafiction is. After reading a Yahoo Answers post, I finally realize what I need to do. I need to write about writing. “What?”
“Hmmmm… I can double space this document now.”
“YES, it’s one page! DONE!”
Ugggh, three more journals to do.
Ugggh, three more journals to do.
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