The Easy Way Out

The Easy Way Out

As the rain rattled recklessly against the dark office window, splotches of light smeared about the room from the lofty ceiling fan. Sitting on my enormous four-feet-long desk, objects scattered themselves. On the glass tabletop pane, pens laid down, tired from the hefty note-taking job. My eyes glimpsed my slightly stained sticky-note pad that refracted a reflection. Next to the pad, two tiny notes updated me on my class grade. More sticky-notes hung on one of my computer screens, expounding upon my learning efforts with various bites of information. In conjunction, multitudes of book pages settled: my Spanish textbook, my previous English book filled with 50 Essays anthologized by Samuel Cohen, and finally, a half-full and half-empty notebook containing other peoples’ notes on my speaking style and speech content from speech class. Near the middle of the desk, wrapped up neatly, a piece of candy gently rested with a plastic paper curl only a candy commercial could craft. However, I had placed more plastic on this desk. Specifically, one-inch-wide, cubic, bent, dented, and empty boxes of an array of colors stacked themselves neatly in order, straight from my 3D printer tests. Along with the boxes, two miniature plastic Eiffel Tower models of differing heights and depths soared above the other various objects. Snapped in half when once my brain did too, a crumpled and tiny and used and orange eraser sat in the center of the other things. Pensively I pondered.

Like a pig deep in mud, I sprawled out with my elbow bent and resting impolitely on the desk and with my hand inching my head through my hair and with my feet folded and propped atop another chair standing next to my desk. Quietly, I appreciated some peace away from the bustle of life, so I let my thoughts wander. “School can wear a person out,” I thought, and “My parents never taught me time management. How can I balance all these subjects?” But as the time started to run itself away, I brought myself back to the problem at hand. Sourly I mulled over previous ideas I thought would solve my problem. Stubbornly, I did not wish to write of the meta problem my teacher suggested, my problem of tackling an important essay, so I wracked my brain for the different problems of my life. As I stared into the depths of the monitor, unfortunately, the empty Word document did not fill itself. While I stared, only a few things popped into my head. Contemplatively I uttered, “Lots of problems occur at robotics class, and we have to diagnose and solve them all the time!” However, all the ideas complicated my wish for simplicity. Additionally, I questioned, “Why not explain a problem that my 3D printer solved?” Sadly the workings of my brain presented no such problem. During the interlude of brainstorm, Jonathan, my brother, called from work. He asked of the matter and suggested, “How about a narration of finding the perfect Christmas gift?” Arduously, I turned him down, thinking to myself, “How in the world would I do that?” Sneakily, he alluded, “Want to do something really meta?” My brother reminded me, so I told him how my teacher previously proposed this idea. Repudiatively, I turned it down once again. Yet none seemed as simple. In a way, none seemed as massive. None seemed as close to reality. I gave up and took the easy way out.