Sunday Comix (review of student #169)
2003-12-28 - 3:23 a.m.
the following is the first thing i really wrote, most certainly the first documented peice of jason. Note the misplaced punctuation of a kintergartener/firstgrader (i'm not sure which i was in, becasue i had the same teacher for both grades, my elementary school being too poor to hire a seperate teacher at the time), the out-of-place semicolon, the period (and that gawd-damned extra-space that followed it in those days) exactly it should have been (according to the teachers of the time) exactly where it shouldn't be (according to my present writing style); the comma preceeds, redundant in the face of the the opening bracket which results in a full halt of the telling, where the lips were meant only to take a short pacnic of half-open-ness. I would also like to state that for so long as i have been writing, i have done so falsely, depending on the modifier of young age to make my works more meaningful- sure, it was good for a firstgrader, Ted was good for a fifthgrader, but here I am 20 years old, without a truely Good published story. I have a problem you see, in sitting myself down to complete any project of substantial length. One day, maybe, but it will not be soon enough for me...
�����MY IMAGINATION
���������������by Jason D****
�����I have lots of places to go in my imagination; castles. forests, shrines, temples, or I can pretend to be something else, (like an elf or a dragon.) It's a lot more beautiful, but it's not explainable in words. I can see things that no one else can and from even more points of view. For that reason, I don't like the stuff other kids like.
�����My imagination expands far more than anyone could imagine. I use my imagination more than people think. Almost every chance I get, I imagine.
�����And to think, every minute, my imagination is getting bigger.
...it was a concept i really couldn't describe to the teachers at my school, a feeling of an extention of myself, which was always there, extending to it's full height, reaching up to the sky. Also, note the justification of loneliness. I wanted something taht was mine that no one else could ever take away, and describing what i felt was one way of taking it away, so it was description i avoided. A box i built, a winding and stable box around myself, through which only that myseterious extension of myself could permeate...also, any mention to 'other kids' and 'people' were references to my classmates, whereas 'no one else' was a reference to everyone in my school and town, especially the teachers, and 'think' was a quantification of unequal units, as in: "i see more with both by eyes closed than you will ever think in your whole lifetime"...and one day in fourth grade, i was stabbed with a pencil in the hand. They feared lead poisoning and poured hydrogen peroxide on it, far too much. I told them they didn't make pencils out of lead anymore, that i would remove the pincil tip myself and I'd be fine, but they didn't listen, of course. Today, i just laugh at these little memories, because i really couldn't have known what i was talking about. I mentioned this only becasue it came to mind.
