An Essay about Essays

         There was once a boy, a young boy named Matt, who was taught that all essays were evil. He was also taught that the only way to write an essay was to have an introductory paragraph, two to three body paragraphs, and a concluding paragraph, not to mention a thesis statement. Oh the horror! So of course this poor boy grew up doing what all other students did... he became a procrastinating daydreamer.
         Now years after my life-altering discovery of the junior high school english paper, I have developed quite a system for going about writing any and all papers. First, I make sure my teachers don't care if I change topics by the time I have to turn in the first draft. This is because I'm not going to spend time thinking of a topic until the night before, even though I still have to turn in all the pre-writing stuff in before that. Next, I forget about anything that has to do with the stupid essay. I mean, who wants to worry about something until they actually need to? So I go about my life, trying to make friends with people in every class, daydreaming about everything from being a superhero to becoming king of the world, and taking my daily naps in english while everyone else is working on their papers. (Once again, why worry about it now, when I still have my youthful energy and can stay up all night typing my paper?) And so my days go, easy and carefree. Yet that dreadful night finally comes, as it always must. All day before that night I think of what awaits me when I get home; the essay from hell. Yes, hell. It is for the simple reason that all my teachers give me the choice between something like writing about a famous person in history (which I will not do, for the mere reason that I would have to research) and a personal history about me! Now why would anyone want to read up to two hundred and ten stories about why someone went on this vacation or what they hated about that job? The mere thought of going home and waiting till my parents go to sleep frightens me. I know what is coming.
         It is time to start. My parents have been in bed for thirty minutes, which is probably enough time for them to have fallen asleep. Now, I creep out of my room, more quiet than when I'm sneaking out of the house. My computer beckons me, and I finally reach it. So far so good, I am thinking. Now comes the most difficult part of my whole opperation. I need to turn my computer on without waking anyone in my house. I reach for the on button, and I push it. Silence is the responce, other than the faint whirring of the fan inside the computer. Thank goodness noone turned the volume back on after I turned it off! I breath easier now, knowing that once again I will scrape together a passable report about nothing. I open Word, and then I think of what I should write for my first sentence. This is tough. Should I start with a funny little annecdote that will lead into my essay, or should I grab attention with something that is really flashy, but has nothing to do with my paper? I think back to other papers, and other intro's, and decide that most of the time me teachers commented, and commented in approving ways, about starting off with something that had nothing to do with my essay. So it begins.
         I start to write about something dramatic, yet ultimately funny. I find that a teacher that is smiling when they grade my paper is a teacher that will let little typo's go unnoticed. I also have learned over the years that people that can't be naturally cool enough to have everyone like them even if they are boring readers need to have a little something extra up their sleeve for when they read their papers to the class. So I go for the comedian approach. This is my frame of mind with every sentence, every word, even every letter at moments.
         Yet as I write more of the paper, my eyes stop focusing on what I am typing. My fingers mispell more and more, and I start to daydream. No! I have to finish! I think this over and over, yet it is no use. I am slipping into the dazed, half-awake half-asleep state of a daydreamer. I put up a good fight, yet I can't control my eyes. They close halfway, and I am left looking nowhere, with my hands supporting my head, and my mind in another state of being. My mind takes me to amazing places, to meet characters strait out of the books I read, and out of movies I've watched. I have become a superhero, by pushing Peter Parker out of the way and letting myself be bitten by the mutant spider. I have ruled the world, finding out that I was the Chosen One, prophesied to come and lead the world into a new Golden Era by every and all countries of the world. I even daydreamed of my death... of me sacrificing myself to save some Hollywood actress (doesn't matter who), and her saying that if I hadn't died she would have married me and given me all the money she possessed. Of course on the last one... I don't stay dead. Yet while all these magical thoughts area spinning through my head; my essay is not getting finished. I push these thoughts savagely down, and finish my essay.
         When I am finished, I scan what I have typed. It is basic, and tells my teacher nothing of interest or value. Yet it is written in the correct format, and I know that in this screwed up world, that is all that matters. I sigh, save my work, and go to bed. I am so worn out that I don't even finish my Hollywood daydream!