Imagine that You're Me

You know you’ve been up too late because you start freaking out because not all your pictures are the same shade of sepia.

You realize that you’ve been staring at a computer screen for more than 12 hours today.

You realize, with some horror and dismay, that this is a typical day for you.

You try writing your essay by hand, because that’s how you like to write your first drafts.

You start wondering what the story would be like if told from the monster’s perspective, not Frankenstein’s.

You sit for a few minutes trying to remember if you’ve ever seen Young Frankenstein. Maybe once, at a party, or something.

You remember that Young Frankenstein is a Mel Brook’s movie. So is the Producers. You’ve never seen The Producers, but you’ve heard it. Once you listened in the bathroom while the boys were watching it in your room. You went in the bathroom to study grammar so you could focus, but you really ended up listening to the whole movie. From the bathroom floor.

You remember who those boys were, and decide to Facebook stalk them.

You try to switch your Facebook back to normal, US English; a language that you haven’t used for several months on that website. (UK English, then Spanish, then Pirate.) As you’re trying to find English (Why are they not in alphabetical order?) You come across Esperanto. You cannot help but wonder WHO IN THIS WORLD READS FACEBOOK IN ESPERANTO? So you do the logical thing and change your Facebook to Esperanto.

You notice that Esperanto’s a lot like Spanish. Which reminds you that you have to buy a Spanish textbook that costs $200 and is sold only brand new at the bookstore, AND NOWHERE ELSE!

You then fondly turn your thoughts to the new planner you bought at the bookstore, and the beautiful crimson 5 subject notebook with the U’s logo on it. You can’t wait for fall, because then you’ll be too busy to breathe. But you have your planner! And with a planner, all things are possible.

You rejoice because all things are possible. Like passing your English class. It can happen. You just have to write your essays! You’re half-way done with one of them, which is nice, but you remind yourself that you still really need to buckle down and get going.

You know that the only way to get going is to have a beautiful new pair of shoes on your feet to take you where you want to go! So you search the World Wide Web for the perfect pair of Mary Jane pumps. You find them.

You have to tell your sister and mom about them, and ask for advice on whether it is taking the risk to buy shoes online. You also have to ask if I should get the shoes in mustard or gray. (Two of your favorite colors.)

You decide you are almost ready to conclude this blog post, and thus begin thinking of a decent title. You struggle at this, and sarcastically remind yourself that this is why none of your headline suggestions will ever make it in print.

You have read the newspaper for years, and even now you study it with more fervor than ever before so that you can become acquainted with the subtle nuances of the art. So that you can be a good copy editor and page designer.

You suddenly realize how many incomplete sentences fill your blog post! Your soul is suddenly drenched in horror, repulsion, and trepidation. But you try to stay true to your word and not delete major things! So you leave them. Because that is what you said, even if it is wrong. Because sometimes you write things that are wrong, but you write them anyway, because they must come out of inside of you, so they don't boil and rot and corrupt you.

-Meg

p.s. Do you know what's ironic? I'm horrible at writing headlines because they aren't complete sentences, yet this post is riddled with half-formed, crippled sentences. WHAT IS THIS?