Open Ended Promt

It was Christmas Eve. Fog stuck to the tarmac at Lindbergh Field. Night had fallen across San Diego, and the city buzzed below the hundreds of passengers who busied themselves while the plane was in still in the air. The 20-something year old pilot handled the plane with ease, even though the fog and clouds combined made it nearly impossible to see anything in front of the him. The pilot never drank, he hated the taste of most alcohol and had trouble holding it down. There were times when sadness of his losses would overcome him and he'd drown out his sorrows with a bottle. And one year ago that day, he placed dirt on top of the lowered casket of the man who'd raised him, so at this point he didn't give a damn about the taste or his job, he just wanted to drown. He took another sip out of his water bottle, drinking a clear beverage that if you got close enough, the smell would let you know it was not water. Soon enough the bottle was empty, as was the flask he had hidden in his coat pocket. The copilot, who was supposed to be helping fly the plane, had dosed off in his chair, a little drool dripping onto his chin. Lights were flashing on the control panels and noises were coming from every corner of the cockpit. The young pilot, while still awake, was barely in control of his own body. Dizziness overcame him and soon enough his dinner was in a pool on the ground. More lights were flashing, more noises and calls came from the control tower and the plane started to bump around, causing a few of the passengers to fall out of their seats. The copilot woke up, feeling groggy and questioning where he was, like you do after taking a nap in the middle of the day. More lights, more sounds, more bumps, more falls. And then they stopped. Sparks flew from the plane as the electrical wiring hit the water. Passengers and the copilot became submerged in water, struggling to swim under the force of the plane taking them deeper under, farther away from the surface. The pilot had passed out drunk before the plane hit the water. It was Christmas Eve. Fog stuck to the tarmac at Lindbergh Field. And presents the next morning were left unopened, places at the dinner table empty, and a bottle of vodka missing from the airport’s bar.

The Plot Sickens Reflection:

The Plot Sickens by Fanny Howe talks about the increase of violent outcomes and decrease in the quality of a plotline in her recent student's work. When given just two sentences to start with and the opportunity to write about anything they wanted "out of the 20 stories generated by this assignment, only 5 had endings that could qualify as 'happy.'" Most students will write violent stories with gruesome endings, which to Howe's belief is now due to the lack of the ability to solve a problem. Students will write stories about "victims of hideous violence on accidents, they commit crimes but only for the hell of it, they hate, not understanding why they hate; they are loved or abused or depressed, and don't understand why." The lack of plot makes it easier to gruesomely get rid of the protagonist in a somewhat interesting way instead of solving the problem. My story substantiates Howe's ideas, as it lacks a major plot line, and the story can be considered somewhat violent, as it involves everyone dying in a plane crash due to a drunk pilot. In my opinion, it's just easier to write stories with a violent ending, probably due to the fact that you can lack a plotline while still making it interesting.

Self Deprecation: This or That? Or That?

       Every human being, more often than not, is going to be faced with decisions to make. That’s a major part of life, choosing one thing over another, taking one path instead of a different one. In life, decisions can be difficult to make, especially if they are going to have a major impact on your lifestyle and how you continue to go on after you make that decision. So naturally, any big decision being made need to be given lots of thought, as it could potentially change your entire life. But then there are the decisions that should be made easily, without much hesitation or thought. Like when the waiter comes over with his pad of paper and asks simply, “What would you like to drink?” Just the simple question of what beverage I’d like to have with my meal can leave me muttering a series of “I don’t knows” under my breath. Morgan, it’s a drink, not rocket science, yet my indecision and lack of the ability to make any type of decision what so ever can make what should be a simple “Iced tea, please,” a mission to the moon.

Ordering food is no different, in many ways it's even more difficult. Recently, my family made an impromptu drive into Boston during a snow storm, because that's clearly a very smart and thought out decision. We were all starving and decided to stop at the Cheesecake Factory for dinner. After waiting a while for a table to clear up, we were seated. The waitress handed us our menus, which might as well have been a textbook the thing was so thick. Instantly, I started to feel stressed out, there were pages upon pages of different salads, pastas, and meats. When it came time to order our food, I was flustered an unprepared. So, I waited to order. I sent the waitress back to wherever she waits while I make the hard decision as to what I want to eat that night. I told her I wasn't ready and she left, clearly annoyed with my request. Eventually I narrowed it down to two meals, I which I then has someone else choose which one I ate because the decision was too stressful.

Never go shopping with me. Ever. I’m warning you now, you will probably want to kill me or yourself multiple times during the experience. Maybe even take the both of us down in a murder-suicide scenario, if you're really feeling destructive. I’m incapable of committing to a piece of clothing or a bag of chips until I know everything that’s out there. What if I find something I like better or want more, but I already wasted my money on this shirt that now seems useless? What if I find something similar somewhere else for a cheaper price, allowing me more bang for my buck? One time while I was shopping with my friend, I purchased three different shirts. Then, while eating mango chicken in the mall food court, my quick decisions came back to haunt me, and what I had bought no longer seemed like the right choice. So within the couple hours or so we had been at the mall, I bought 3 shirts, then returned them. Eventually I bought completely different clothes, but not before I got a good look at everything each store had to offer. The best thing stores have ever come up with is the option to put items on hold. You just ask them to put what you want behind the register and no one can have for a specific amount of time besides you. This allows me to completely look around before making my final decision, but keep anything I may want available for me. Let’s just say I use the option to put stuff on hold so frequently, it could probably be made into a drinking game. Now there are many ways I could end this essay, but I really couldn't decide. So if you could just save me the trouble of stressing for another hour that would be great. Just pretend I said something really heartwarming or funny and we can call it a day.