college composition ii 2.19.10

8/14/2019 College Composition II 2.19.10

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College Composition II

2.19.10

Escapism

What is beauty?

My brain snaps on.

What is beauty, he asks, wearing a baby blue dress shirt that almost shines

as he gestures around. He pauses as someone interrupts him and restates what he

had been going on about (on about? Had been saying?) for clarification.

McCullough?

Errrmmm. . .

Scenes from my last night in Europe spring to mind.

I jump on to the bunk bed in front of the large picture window and to my joy I

discover it easily swings open (swings open easily?). I gasp as night falls. The town

in the valley below the mansion-turned-youth-hostile begins to light up. One by one,

the street lights flicker to life, homes blaze like candle light against the bright starry

sky. My heart rips in half and my eyes water. One single church is highlighted in a

yellow blaze on the peak (top, crown, pinnacle) of a hill. I inch as close to the open

world as possible, no bug screen to keep me from it. Only the bird excrement on the

roof keeps me off of it. My best friend hops up next to me and I grin, noticing the

other kids standing outside to see the heavenly sight.


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Last one down has to wake up first in the morning.

We jump down from the top bunk and sprint down the hall, my socks sliding

me along the multicolored tile to the stairs.

Dont fall! She cries over her shoulder.

No? Davis?

I open my mouth too late, as usual.

The lecture continues, my mind buzzing with a point I want to make. I sigh

inwardly as the topic changes. The class seems to shift and grin (and groan?) in

unison as the teacher is interrupted again, his arm gestures faltering like the point

he was about to make.

***

Escapism as defined in The American Heritage Dictionary of the English

Language:

Escapism es* cap* ism [i-skey-piz-uh m]

-noun

The avoidance of reality by absorption of the mind in entertainment or in an

imaginative

situation, activity, etc.

***


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I slide my hat on and glance at the blinking red digital clock in the crew room

as I tuck my bangs into hiding.

Heeeeey girrrrl! Ellen croons,

Her shirt is tomato red, symbolizing her higher pay grade and supervisor

status

Whats goooin onnnn? She smiles, dragging out her words.

Nothing, I respond, rolling my eyes. Same old crap issues, same crap job.

Hey, hows the withdrawal going? I watch the shock flash across her face and am

shocked in turn when I see her expression go through a hungry transformation, her

eyes sinking deeper into her scabbed face. Her skin deteriorates before me, the

monster of addiction rearing its ugly face.

Not a lot. How are you? I turn to leave, my eyes quickly raking her face.

Groovy, baby!

I head up to the drive through area and resume work as if I hadnt left on

Sunday.

Itll be one minute on chicken, Stephanie calls over to me. I stand in front

of the presenter table and in the effort to ignore the staring customers, I imagine

myself far away, living a life that doesnt involve me working in the world of fast

food.

I take a detour toward the golden arches, my brain aching for coffee. When I

swing open the door, Im met with an unoccupied lobby.

I head up to the counter and smile at the McDonalds worker. May I have a

mocha, please?


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The boy nods. Yes.

I nearly giggle at the pompous tone in the one word reply. I step out the glass

door and am swept away by the crowd. It isnt raining for once, so when I pass by

Big Ben I am able to glance up and see the ancient clock bathed beauty. The setting

sun makes the clock face appear to glow, rays of light shooting around the tower

emblazoning it in a heavenly illumination. The pale red sky turns to an autumn

orange as I trek across London. A nip in the air causes me to tug my raincoat closer,

reminding me of the summers nearing end.

I arrive at my flat, a folder of articles under my arm. I had been staying late

at the office lately, and as the Opinion section of the Sunday Times was still behind

schedule, I decided to finish editing at home.

I take a sip of the strong chocolate laced espresso and pull out the last of the

unedited articles. I tug a pink fuzzy comforter around me as I disappear in the cushy

depths of the giant armchair. Looking around the front room, I sigh, almost sad to

be leaving to return to America to resume teach

Princess! A prod in my arm brings me back, and Im plunged in the

unwelcome radiance of fluorescents. Stephanie resumes laughing at me, teeth fully

exposed. I suppress a shudder, as usual. Your order is up! You havent been

listening to me talk, have. . .

Jabbering endlessly, you mean.

Shutting the drive through window for the night, I turn to search out the night

manager. As I spin around with one last glance at the clock, I am met with the silver

button on a black shirt.

You can go, the button rumbles. I back up and look at the manager to


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thank him before rushing to the crew room for my coat. I disappear through the

door, my back beginning to ache, my knees beginning to collapse. I start my car

and all the nights exhaustion slams into me like a sledgehammer as I throw the

gear in reverse.

Headlights flash by as I stare intently at the road. I pinch the back of my neck

to try to stay awake, but my brain begins to beg for relief and I lose sight of the

black tar and white lines.

Im driving home, gazing out the window. Its suddenly daytime, and Im

wearing my aviators, which taint the world purple. Im rubbing my pained neck and

mouthing the words to The Magic Position by Patrick Wolf. Its warm out,

graduation is approaching. The melting snow reminds me of how quickly time has

been going. My heart flutters anxiously when I realize the short amount of time left

before the school year ends. The sun warming my skin as I drive, my mind begins

to wander from the dreary road and I catch myself reliving old memories.

I can see myself in preschool, playing House with Brittany Narverud. She

interrupts me as I pour the tea.

You need to have a crush on somebody!

Why? I ask, turning to face her, my head tilted at an angle.

Because you do. She turned me to face to circle of boys at the end of the

room. Pick one.

I frown. No. I glare at her, and finish pouring the tea.

Her lower lip quivers, and she looks at me with big brown eyes, practically

trembling with pleading. Please?

My frown deepens, and I quickly examine the chuckling, farting boys. I


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quickly point a finger, and sigh irritably as Brittany squeals and giggles over the

new love of my life.

I come back to the car long enough to turn on my blinker for the third of six

turns I make during the drive from town. My imagined daytime scenario was nearly

blinding compared to the nighttime surrounding me. Taking time to curse the van

that pulled out in front of me which caused me to slow to 40 mph, I yawn and dive

back into my stream of consciousness.My mind flits to middle school, sometime

around eighth grade.

The flickering fluorescents give my notebook an aged look and my head

begins to protest.

Can I sit here? The blond fro-headed boy asks, plopping down in the

padded chair next to me. I smile, his pale eyes meeting mine.

Whats wrong? Youre thinking hard, again. He searches my face, his body

swooping in my direction.

I almost chuckle, my eyes rolling to the white tile ceiling. I lean over, my eyes

glued to his own once more. I told you my plan parents to move this summer,

didnt I?

He jerked backward, rocking the chair into the wall. His eyes darted around

nervously. No. You didnt. He scooped my folder out of my notebook. Where to?

Oregon. I say, confused at his behavior.

Oh. I used to live in Phoenix.

I know. I huff, you told me the day we met, at soccer. Remember? Im

baiting him, wishing he would look up from my communications folder.

What if I dont want you to go? He picked at the edge of my folder, where it

was tearing from the weight of the papers inside.


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Well-

He shakes his curly hair out, and interrupts me. This dragon and I will keep

you here. He points to the smirking, baby blue dragon on my folder.

I try not to laugh, but my struggling smirk flees when he finally glances back

up.

My look, I think, melting. I have once again become the most important

person in the world. The strand of hair I had been battling settles into place, the on-

coming migraine begins to dissipate.

The dragon and I will guard the borders. You wont leave me. He almost

voices it as a question, so I nod, unable to detach myself from the look of pure

innocence and care shining in his eyes. Ill be there, my best friend assures me.

I begin to blush at his intensity, and nearly dive under the circular wood table

when Scott, Brady, and Aaron appear. Instead, with one last glance at my knight in

tin foil, I busy myself with class work. The look on his face quickly becomes

boredom and makes my chest ache, my head beginning to pound once again.

I come back to life to complete the fifth turn in my journey, and I realize I

couldnt remember making the fourth. I shake my head, acknowledging the

ignorance that existed when I was in Preschool and in eighth grade. When I was

little, my friends were caught up on a romance they knew nothing about, when I

was in eighth grade, I was caught up in ignoring the romance that was under my

nose. There was something so sweet and innocent about the awkwardness. It

makes me sad to see the loss of that innocence through high school. Wanting to

steer from the topic of school, I begin to relive the summer after my sophomore

year, the pain in my body starting to revive.


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My body is vibrating with anticipation.

Shift left, left. . . back to the right. . .

My cleats shuffle through the sandy dirt and grass, my body following the

sashay of the attacking offence. I clench and release my fists, sweat trickling

between my fingers, the mesh of the goalie gloves rubbing against my knuckles.

Ive given up on the vibrant orange sleeves of my goalie jersey, allowing them to

hang loose despite the hundred degree weather.

Shift left. . . Rightrightrightrightright!

Knees bent, constantly shifting my weight, my eyes dart around, keeping the

rest of the players in the corner of my vision.

My heart thuds in my chest as the offence sprints toward me, having finally

found a gap in our line up. With my defensive line trailing behind, the tall

Minneapolis player allows a short grin.

To the side, my brain tugs; and I dive left. The blonde girl winds up to plant

the ball in the back of the net, but I have driven my body into the kick, causing her

to miss and tap the ball before dodging backward. My hip pounds into the sandy

ground, and a giggle escapes as I bounce, my shoulder slamming into the ground. I

slam a hand on top of the ball, catching it just before it can roll in. I hear screams of

triumph from Blondie and disappointment from my team, my body blocking the

outcome of the kick that was so close to the line.

No! I yell, on the brink of hysterics. My body continues to quake, but I do

not move. The sideline referee jogs over and I look up. Its not three-fourths over

the line, I say, my voice trembling from the adrenaline rush rocking my system.

There is a slight look of surprise on his face. I look back to where the silver ball is

kissing the white line. Its exact center is a mile away from the goal line, as far as Im


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concerned.

I catch a quick smile my way, and my head nearly explodes as blood

thunders to my ears.

No good! He bellows over the hollering girls. I hear the yells die down, only

to start up again as both teams realize what had happened. I hear my team shriek

and go wild, my defense jumping up and down as I leap up, ball tucked under my

arm. I consider sliding to the ground and raising my arms in victory, but the look of

pure hatred twisted on Blondies pale face is enough to keep me from gloating.

I turn off my headlights and stare out my windshield in surprise. I attempt to

remember the last leg of the drive home. I leave the garage and go inside, allowing

my cat to streak past me, bowling my dog over.

Hey, Kriss. How was work?

I notice the receding hairline, the gray sprouting from his temples, the round

stomach and a pair of hairy legs protruding from orange and white swim trunks.

Work. I wonder away, dimly aware that he is mumbling something else,

but I assume hes talking to himself again. My mom is reclined in the blood colored

(blood colored? Rustic red, carpet upholstered, dirty red) armchair, her water

logged legs wrapped in medical tape. My cat rests on her chest, eyes half closed

(his eyelids drooping wearily?) and purrs contentedly.

Kriss? My dad calls, and I swerve (deviate?) from my course to the

computer and return to the kitchen. Cheese? He gestures to the waiting plate

with a block of cheese and grader.

Being facetious (jocose?) I cut off a piece of cheese and eat it. Thanks. I

turn to leave, but he calls me back and I set to work.


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***

Insert of synonyms as stated by the Dictionary.com Unabridged:

Related Words for: escapist

dreamer, wishful thinker, avoidance, idealist, escape artist

***

My mind exhausted, I crawl in between three layers of blankets, a Snuggie

wrapped around my body. The space heater light cuts sharply through the darkness

to assure me the bedroom will be warm by three AM. I set my Mp3 player on the

bookshelf beside me and plug it in to the portable speaker. The sudden bright light

from the screen makes me wince, and I quickly find my playlist category.

To Sleep is the playlist I select, and Coldplays Strawberry Swing frolics

through the speaker as I fully submerge in the pool of blankets, my bear clutched

under one arm and a handful of my pillow piles on top of the other. I shiver

convulsively for a few minutes, my fuzzy sweatshirt and sweatpants unable to keep

heat from escaping.

Coldplay fades to Fly by Ludovico Einaudi, to Sarah McLachlans Time, to

Safetysuits Gone Away before my mind settles. I close my eyes but do not sleep.

Im lying down, but my blankets are not under me anymore.

The sun shines through my window, drawing me toward the warmth. I swing

my legs out of bed and go stand at my window. It seems someone took the liberty

of opening my shades for the first time; the disturbed dust particles sparkles and

hangs around me. The ray of sunlight is oddly welcoming, making my skin tingle. I

sit, reluctant to leave the paradise of my room. My cat runs in the room and crawls


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on to his usual perch, my shoulder. The door is pushed open again and a boy sits at

my side. My blood boils when his fingers brush my shoulder to pet Ve.

What are you doing here? I ask casually, trying to find his Ireland green

eyes under the glasses he wore, the sun glaring back at me.

He grins obnoxiously. Just visiting.

The daydream replays a few times, the conversation changing occasionally,

the scenery goes from the woods out my window to the ocean, to the vineyards in

Italy. The strange boy, and my cat, remain the same.

What is beauty, enters my mind again, before I drift off to sleep.

***

The medical definition of escapism as stated by Merriam-Webster's Medical

Dictionary.

Medical Dictionary

Main Entry: es*cap*ism

Pronunciation: is-kA-piz m

Function: noun

: habitual diversion of the mind to purely imaginative activity or entertainment as

an escape from reality or routine


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Works Cited

"Escapism." Dictionary.com Unabridged. Random House, Inc. 18 Feb. 2010.

.

"Escapism." Merriam-Webster's Medical Dictionary. Merriam-Webster, Inc. 18 Feb.

2010. .

"Escapist." The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth

Edition. Houghton Mifflin Company, 2004. 476. Print.

college composition ii 2.19.10

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