Geena Louise Boyce

English 297 Dr. Matthews

Major Paper II Paradise Lost

November 6 2014

First Draft

Whose Fault The Fall?

This is a pretend essay. I am writing a pretend essay because my real essay is neither complete nor good enough to show to anyone right now. Why wasn’t it finished by this morning’s due date? I guess I attempted to stay up all night and write, but I was constantly having to do pushups, drink glasses of water, and take cold showers to stay awake and I didn’t feel up to it honestly. None of my ideas were flowing and nothing I wrote made sense to me. It doesn’t help that I have depression; I doubted every single last word I typed on the screen. I feel like I need to strategize for the upcoming weeks because this quarter can’t go on this way.

Last night after having missed yoga—I missed yoga because I smoked a joint while driving, got too high, and in mid-traffic realized I forgot my yoga mat—I went off into the night and parkoured around Volunteer Park. I peered into the windows of the park’s greenhouse and checked out the Lakeview Cemetery, but I am going back another time when it isn’t so dark and sinister, a little more Eden-esque. Next, I went to a café and tried to write. Except I didn’t write much because my stomach was empty, and I didn’t have any money on me because I lost my debit card last week and the new one is on its way in the mail. I felt like passing out. So I drove home. After arriving and setting up at my desk to do my assignment, I had so much anxiety that I threw up a little bit.

Eventually I slumped in my bed and set several alarms: one at 11PM, 1AM, 3AM, 4:20AM. I ignored all of them. As 6:30AM came along, I sat in bed wondering what to do. Immediately, I looked for my vibrator. Then, I took a look at the time. It was 6:39am. I masturbated for 9 minutes. Quickly, I tidied up, laid out flat my sheets and comforter on the bed, then went to the bathroom. I had to turn the fan on and give my cologne a few spritzes, but luckily I didn’t have to use a plunger. Immediately after washing my hands, I went for a real run this time. It was raining and I was in shorts, but I didn’t mind one bit. I felt really good after having climbed the tower at Volunteer Park and frolicking on the wet grass lawns. What a blast it was jumping from one mud puddle to another.

Back in the day, I used to be good at school. I always raised my hand and sat straight. Turned things in on time. I even built a windmill in fifth grade. I was lucky enough to study in both France and Brazil in high school. My freshman year at UW went well academically and I still managed to do all of my favorite drugs. Feeling under-challenged, I applied as a transfer student to several liberal arts colleges out East. I got into my dream school, which is called Smith College, a women's liberal arts college. I flew all the way out to Northampton, Massachusetts, had ten warm and wonderful August days on the most pristine campus I’ve ever seen, full of gorgeous and sophisticated girls left and right. On the tenth day, my dad calls me and says he is too depressed to work on his taxes or my FAFSA. I went to the financial aid office there and they told me that because my mom at the time was not mentally stable and couldn’t provide her information, they couldn’t work around my dad’s case; they needed his tax information. So I couldn’t afford it anymore. I flew back home to Seattle with broken wings. Then, I went home, trying to be optimistic. I don't know what happened, but I suddenly had a mental breakdown. I didn’t attribute it directly to that failure, but I definitely lost loads of confidence and then to make things better entered a codependent lesbian relationship. I tried to commit suicide three times, and second and third times I ended up in an ambulance and an emergency room. For ten days at the end of September through the beginning of October 2014, I stayed at Fairfax Hospital in Kirkland only to spend days with real crazies, wear hospital socks, and color pictures. I was put on anti-psychotics and felt like a science experiment.

Ever since then I’ve really sucked at school and confidence and self-esteem.

I always wish that I could still please my teachers but unfortunately, it is already very late in the quarter and who knows what will happen once we get to Frankenstein. Plus, what professor has time for a schlump like me? I have bipolar disorder, anxiety, and depression. I’m on five separate medications for those issues. I tried looking up articles online about others like me who have succeeded in believing in themselves and successfully doing well in their schoolwork. I guess the one tip that stood out is to remember you are wasting time if you’re not doing what you’re supposed to be doing.

Another huge weight on my shoulders is the fact that UW still is withholding my 15k in financial aid grants because they are skeptical of my financial situation. Yes, UW, I understand that you often catch students putting their grandmother’s financial information on their FAFSA instead of their parents', and you end up dispersing funds to students who just want extra cash. I totally understand that. But I promise you my situation is a bit different. My father has not done his taxes in a decade, he suffers from bipolar disorder, depression, and is verbally and emotionally abusive. I’m sad my sister still has to live with him. My mother has been through a lot in the past five years. Though divorced, my mom used to live with my dad in Everett, the whole family in the same home. I was in high school when I had to call the police to our house several times a year. Finally one day after my mom had a psychotic episode and my dad held her to the ground, the concoction of their dysfunction and mental illness drove me out of the house. I left for Brazil. My dad set a restraining order against her; she was forced to move to North Las Vegas where her parents are retired, and lives off of their retirement. She has been in jail, a mental institution, and is now currently medicated and applying for disability.

These past four months, I’ve been working with this nonprofit called the Seattle Education Access, and my advocate and I put together this appeal and UW keeps asking for more of my mom’s information when they have it already. Her tax forms have all 0s on them. She has no income. Perhaps that’s a reason why it doesn’t seem worth it to fight my attention deficits. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to afford tuition or rent after this quarter.

Alas, I sit here broke and behind in class. Am I sort of like Eve? A sinner and a goner? Doesn't seem like God is done with me yet, though. I was planning to get a call this afternoon from one of my counselors. Maybe they will tell me to get my shit together because honestly what other option do I have. My real essay will be posted to the discussion board tonight as well as the assignments due, what, four days ago? All in all, to whom it may concern, if this concerns anybody but me, I hope you enjoyed my pretend essay. Please give it a 4/5. I hope Dr. Matthews does not collect this. This is essay is just for pretend.