A Psychological Analysis of My Writing :: Writing Education Teaching Essays

A Psychological Analysis of My WritingGod Ive always hated this stupid shrinks office. Everything is placed so god damned precisely. Everything is so god damn clean. Its as if the bastard is striving for perfection. Strive. Thats all he can do. Thinks he knows everything. Thinks he knows how I think, when steady I dont know how I think... Man, this fellows office is immaculate. I cant learn a speck of dust anywhere. Christ, this guy is really anal. Holy Ghost Now, Im starting to hale like freakin Freud. The mans got me thinking like a shrink. This isnt good. No, not at all... Hey Whats that? Its my flippin file. The anal-retentive bastard left out my flippin file. Well, its about me...and I have a right to see what hes saying about me--dont I? Heck yes Lets see here. Whats this? Oh, its that stupid exercise he had me do. Geez I wrote that over twelve weeks ago. I dont know why I had to do that moronic exercise. Its like hes going to find out anything about me in a two page piece o f exposition using an extended metaphor for my conception of life at a university. Jesus, I cant even remember what metaphor I used. I hope I compared the university to a colon, because of all the seduce I have to deal with. Alright, maybe school isnt that bad. Well, since the shrink is usually fashionably late, I might as well read the damn thing... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- proceed summer, a few of my friends and I went on a canoe trip in the Quetico. I had never been on a canoe trip foregoing to this excursion, so I only had a vague idea of what I would be subjected to on such a trip. I naively believed that the whole affair would be something like a vacation absent the amenities, but, as I soon discovered, it was anything but a vacation. At the end of our first day of paddling, I was wet and exhausted. From this rather inauspicious beginning, my vacation devolved quickly into a hellacious forced march. You see, my friend , who planned the trip, had set a destination that he thought that we should reach by the end of the third day and that if we didnt reach this destination we couldnt claim to be men. Initially, I thought that the whole trip was a waste of time and cash I couldnt believe that anyone, masochists excluded, would want to participate in such an affair.