Paper Cranes :: Creative Writing Essays

Paper Cranes 1. From the Menninger Institutes seven criteria for emotional maturity The contentedness to find to a gr feaster extent satisfaction in giving than receiving. The capacity to worry to other people in a consistent servicemanner with rough-cut satisfaction and helpfulness. The capacity to love. 2. In the opening scene of the film L.I.E., the of import character, Howie, a fifteen-year-old boy with baggie jeans and hair that does a chipmunk tail flip at the top of his forehead, jumps up to stand on the railing of an overpass on the Long Island Expressway. Arms extended to the sides, he tightrope walks to the left. He sugar, turns, and begins back. Then stops again and lifts one foot so hes balanced only on the tip of one sneaker, on a metal beam the largeness of a cassette tape. We, the audience, see him from behind a thin figure in too-big clothes, car after car after car whizzing by to a lower place him, all oblivious to the boy who, with just the slightest su dden gust, could land, crumpled, on their roof. As you watch, all you want to do is wrap your arms around the boy and hug him to the ground, to safety, to chiding words about what couldve happened, and keep on hugging him. And as you watch the rest of the movie, that whole tone never leaves Howie only seems more and more alone. You see the already motherless Howie fling by his father, abandoned by the boy hed thought was his best friend, bullied at school, until the only soulfulness left to listen to him at all is a middle-aged man who also happens to be a pedophile. At first I was outrage that the director portrayed this pedophile as the only person spontaneous to put a supportive arm around Howies shoulder. After all, arent pedophiles shabu? But then I realized that maybe that was the point. Its clean to judge. And its easy to keep speeding home, aware only of the other metal boxes zooming on next to you in tenuous synchrony. 3. When I was little I got fevers. They were awkward fevers that made it so all I could think about was feeling nauseous and anticipating the moment when I would feel well enough to eat the promised popsicle. But the worst part was at night, when Id float somewhere in and out of consciousness since I wasnt always sure if I was sleeping or not, I wasnt sure when I was dreaming or not, either.