get the creative juices flowing.

mood- reminiscient

music- born to run to you - Ryanhood

first of all, i must say that i am flipping ecstatic because i'm sitting in the student lounge at SLC right now tick tack tacking away on a laptop that i've signed out from student services... and it has a high speed internet connection! yay! finally some improvment around here!

ok. so. i've been comissioned via my adolescent literature class to write "a short story or chapter exceprt (5 pages minimum) written from the perspective of a young adult. It should follow the conventions we've discussed in your notes. you can choose any genre."

I originally started with one of the stories i began in high school.... i would just finish it or tweak it or something.... so i did... and it came out just great. but a few things happened this weekend that gave me some flashbacks. i started thinking about some opening lines:

The first time I met him, I knew I'd have him eventually.


I remember the first time I met him. He was spanging at the Marina Restaurant in Keno.


"His name's Shawn-Patrick, gramps."
"I like him already."


so from that... i just sat and let it flow.... and i knew i'd come around to it eventually.
so here it is.


As I bit into the familiarity of a Friar Tuck's submarine sandwich, the tangy bitterness of the mayo sent my mind spiraling back to the Evergreen Inn and a boy named Sancho.

So named because he never achieved what he wanted to be. His ambition never stretched farther than the status of measly underling. He was one of those meandering little plebes upon whom the gods of Kenosha counted for egotistical satisfaction. Poor little Sancho. He hero-worshipped those eloquent, charming men who could turn a crowd for you or against you with one raised eyebrow. He dreamed of being a leader like them. Unfortunately, he lacked the necessary social skills. Perhaps if he hung around them long enough, some of their wit and charm would rub off on him. Highly unlikely, though. He interacted better on an individual basis.

I paid him no mind. I had my sights set on Tiny, the Zeus of the Keno gods. He was a huge, bulking man. His 6'6" frame hefted around a 320-pound body. I knew from the first time i met him that I wanted him. I wanted to wait for him. I wanted him to want me. Eventually, I knew he wanted to want me. I wanted. I wanted.

But all of that changed when one of his devout followers kissed me.