Super Maturity at the End of Semesters

Just a funny observation about myself:

During the semester I'm a hard working student, but once it gets to the last couple weeks, my stress levels and patience and maturity have reached a breaking point and I begin to do really random stuff.

Last week, with only two classes left to go in Summer Session, I began my college level essay by writing "Title. Something, something something. And then something." That is a direct quote. Clearly, I had it removed from my essay, but still kept the title as "Title of Essay."

It gets worse. Last semester in my greek mythology class, with only a week before finals, I started giggling when the professor mentioned "the island of Lesbos." I mean, I had very little sleep from staying up and studying, but apparently I also have the maturity of an 8-year-old, and couldn't control myself. In fact, I am still giggling about it... And it's not even very clever! There's probably something wrong with me... Lesbos, tee-hee!

Anyways, here is possibly the most pointless essay ever written that I did for my summer semester class. It's goofy.

p.s. I literally wrote the whole first part as it was happening. I'm such a genius... or doofus.

Title of Essay

by Claire Nobles

I zombie-gaze at the computer screen. The clickety-clicking of a keyboard is somewhat poetic, and as long as I can force myself to, I keep hearing its melody. My brain has shut off for the semester. I sit in my pajamas at 1:30 in the morning. My neighborhood is eerily quiet. Everyone in town has gone to bed. Even my nocturnal cat is curled up in my lap, asleep. I can tell he’s asleep because he is snoring loudly.  He has become used to the pattern of going to bed when the rest of the humans do. He keeps my lap warm and controls my urges to throw my computer across the room. My brain cannot produce anything new.

Taking a sip of hot tea, I let the taste swirl on my palette, praying it will give me something to go off of. Surely, I could write five hundred words about the taste of my tea. It’s fruity, soothes my nerves and it is -- just boring, old tea. I take another sip hoping for one more sentence I can squeeze out about tea. I bought the tea mug at the airport when I went to see my family. It is something that I call an “Ugly Cup.” I collect ugly cups. The uglier the cup, the more I like it. This one is a hideous brownish-red with a black handle and has “Albuquerque” on the side. But it makes me think of my family and comforts me when I’m stressed out about what to write for a class essay.

My cat yawns and stretches. Thank the lord: something besides tea to write about! I was going to have a panic attack only halfway through my essay. Apparently I had been tapping my foot without realizing it and it woke him up. He shoots a confused glance my way before covering his eyes with his paws and trying to resume sleep. I realize that if I don’t have adequate sleep, I cannot function tomorrow. The phone is on my desk, so I take it and set an alarm for early. I close the laptop and bulldozer my cat over to my bed. He is very annoyed at my disturbance. He leaps away from me and settles down at the foot of my bed with his back turned and begins kneading the covers intently. I call it “making biscuits” because he looks like he’s kneading dough. As he makes biscuits, he purrs as if he is Darth Vader. It’s loud enough to wake the neighborhood. How can such a vast noise come from a ten-pound cat? I curl up in my covers and try to ignore my cat’s reenactment of Star Wars.

Thud-thud! My eyes unwillingly open to soft light peeking through my blinds. Thud! I already know my cat is responsible for the thudding. Who needs iPhone alarms when one has a needy cat? I stretch and literally fall out of bed, scolding my cat by giving him kisses on his head. As I go about my morning routine, which will include coffee, I come to the realization that I know exactly what to write about.