...so those updates.
God I'm awful at this. Ugh.
Reflective essay. A few different prompts:
1. Conceptual Collage - emotion (i.e. fear)
2. Journey
3. I am _________ (yrs old)
4. Image
Collage together
(three paragraphs - three different instances)
Trying the third one: I am 20 years old:
It always seemed so far away. “When you’re older,” adults would say. In moments like those, I would retreat into myself, imagining what it was to be older, to be the ages I read about when I was eight years old, already browsing through the Teen section in Barnes & Noble since I went through the books in the Children’s section too fast. When I was older, I’d be able to stay at home alone, Mom and Dad wouldn’t care if I was up until midnight, I’d be driving a car to friends’ houses instead of having my time restricted by my parents’ schedules, and I’d even have a job and be making money to buy all the videogames I wanted. Even high school seemed awesome, compared to the stupid kids who made fun of me for still liking Pokemon.
A little over ten years later, I looked at the suitcases and tubs piled high, waiting to be packed and driven nine hours to the place I would live for eight out of twelve months. Staying at home was fun, sure. But after a while, being in an empty house all day long just wears you down, the silence and solitude grinding painfully into you. Not only did my parents not care if I was up past midnight, they didn’t mind if I drove home past then in my own car. “You’re old enough, Peanut. We trust you, and every action has a consequence. You’re mature enough to handle those consequences on your own.” Regardless of their trust in me, I was always home between midnight and 12:30. And high school? Shit, I wouldn’t go back to that cesspool of idiocy and drama no matter how much I was paid.
Don’t grow up too fast, I want to tell my younger self. Usually we’re sitting in a blank space: Her with a beat-up notebook, me with a laptop. She eyes me warily, playing with the spirals on her notebook, bending them out of shape, then making faces when they don’t reform correctly. Trust me, I try to continue, There’s a lot of good things, and it’s worth it, but you’ll always regret spending your time wishing you were older. Just. Enjoy what you have now. You’ll want it again when you’re me. But little Danielle never listens to Danni’s jaded and hokey wisdom.
The day itself was like any other birthday. Not to say it wasn’t special; Mom and Nana (her mother) traveled to Beloit to spoil me and my friends for two days. But, I reflected sadly, it was just hard to get excited about my birthday as the years passed. Maybe because dad didn’t even live long enough to see me break out of the terrible teenage years. A year and a half, almost, I told myself. My second birthday without him here. Christ. “You’re getting the aliens out!” Mom joked before the phone rang. Assuming it was business, I didn’t think much of it when she retreated to the bedroom part of the hotel suite.
After chatting with nana for twenty minutes or so, Mom emerged. She looked a little strained, but that was pretty common - Mom was very passionate about Bankruptcy Law.
Reflective essay. A few different prompts:
1. Conceptual Collage - emotion (i.e. fear)
2. Journey
3. I am _________ (yrs old)
4. Image
Collage together
(three paragraphs - three different instances)
Trying the third one: I am 20 years old:
It always seemed so far away. “When you’re older,” adults would say. In moments like those, I would retreat into myself, imagining what it was to be older, to be the ages I read about when I was eight years old, already browsing through the Teen section in Barnes & Noble since I went through the books in the Children’s section too fast. When I was older, I’d be able to stay at home alone, Mom and Dad wouldn’t care if I was up until midnight, I’d be driving a car to friends’ houses instead of having my time restricted by my parents’ schedules, and I’d even have a job and be making money to buy all the videogames I wanted. Even high school seemed awesome, compared to the stupid kids who made fun of me for still liking Pokemon.
A little over ten years later, I looked at the suitcases and tubs piled high, waiting to be packed and driven nine hours to the place I would live for eight out of twelve months. Staying at home was fun, sure. But after a while, being in an empty house all day long just wears you down, the silence and solitude grinding painfully into you. Not only did my parents not care if I was up past midnight, they didn’t mind if I drove home past then in my own car. “You’re old enough, Peanut. We trust you, and every action has a consequence. You’re mature enough to handle those consequences on your own.” Regardless of their trust in me, I was always home between midnight and 12:30. And high school? Shit, I wouldn’t go back to that cesspool of idiocy and drama no matter how much I was paid.
Don’t grow up too fast, I want to tell my younger self. Usually we’re sitting in a blank space: Her with a beat-up notebook, me with a laptop. She eyes me warily, playing with the spirals on her notebook, bending them out of shape, then making faces when they don’t reform correctly. Trust me, I try to continue, There’s a lot of good things, and it’s worth it, but you’ll always regret spending your time wishing you were older. Just. Enjoy what you have now. You’ll want it again when you’re me. But little Danielle never listens to Danni’s jaded and hokey wisdom.
The day itself was like any other birthday. Not to say it wasn’t special; Mom and Nana (her mother) traveled to Beloit to spoil me and my friends for two days. But, I reflected sadly, it was just hard to get excited about my birthday as the years passed. Maybe because dad didn’t even live long enough to see me break out of the terrible teenage years. A year and a half, almost, I told myself. My second birthday without him here. Christ. “You’re getting the aliens out!” Mom joked before the phone rang. Assuming it was business, I didn’t think much of it when she retreated to the bedroom part of the hotel suite.
After chatting with nana for twenty minutes or so, Mom emerged. She looked a little strained, but that was pretty common - Mom was very passionate about Bankruptcy Law.