School essay (there are two choices) that needs to be turned in by 3:30 pm tommorrow. Critique and Revision would be absolutely wonderful! Thank you in advance and awesome forum btw!

The prompt: Evaluate a significant experience, achievement...blah...and its impact on you.

"It es magicaló..."

Yes, this was one of those moments - one that, now, is recalled only through a veil of mist - at first far away, but alas it condenses itself into a sharpened reminiscence that could only be so perceived by a 22/20 robot, senses hyper-sensitized by Tripwire 7.0 (A robot stimulant). This was an experience that, despite a motor lock-down triggered by mental nonplus, bypasses the contention put into language by the infocalypse at Babel. I think I spoke Spanglish, and I think I peed my pants a little - all I meant to say was, "It is magical..."

The instance that I now relay to you was my first visit to Fantasy Shop. I opened the shoppe door, entirely unaware of what I was in store for. I stepped into a world that looked like a rainbow covered in multi-colored fiber optics tangled with Christmas garland and shrouded in Joseph's technicolor dreamcoat. I think the flooding of colors was actually all the blood rushing to my head as I tried to comprehend the idea of a book with pictures in it. Or, it may have been caused by the Wrangler parked in the exact spot necessary to refract light from its faceted window, in a concentrated beam, directly into the tiny droplets of dew that had collectively cohered to the display windows of the fine free-market retail institution that there stood erected - producing an aurora of every color within the visible spectrum. The latter is highly doubtful, and I personally believe that the Fantasy Shop is a gateway to Narnia.

Although somewhat lacking in furry animals and snow, I did find something even better. Trapped in my small glass bottle of Nostalgia, I can still recall the smelly smell of aged paper. The scent alone would have had any Nazi running for their lighters, and it would have aroused Ray Bradbury more than a little. I know I sure enjoyed it.

This was the first step in rediscovering my inner-child which education, science, and the novel had slaved so hard to stamp out. I was given a choice, and I decided to see how far down the rabbit hole went. Innovation was garnished on my mind by panels of sequential art. Creativity was lavished on my soul with every word-bubble of verbose verbiage accompanied by detailed sketches. Comic books opened a window of opportunity, and I leapt out. Turns out I can fly.

Choice 2!

He slammed his poker hand down on the fold-out tray-table. He beat me again, but my mind was too focused on the impatience brought on by a four-hour flight to really care. I signed up for this mission trip for a cheap marble chess set from Mexico. Sitting next to some joke with Spider-man playing cards who insists that I “have some fun” was not part of the game plan.

The wing is tipping to the left; I can see San Diego approaching from the comfort of my window seat – landing gear, wing-flap, turf.

Back on solid ground and free from the shackles of Texas Hold ‘Em, I start to get excited. This is going to be amazing. While the rest of my youth group loads their luggage into the rented van, disappointingly lacking Freon, I sit in the backseat and let my mind race with all the wonderful things I have heard about Mexico.

“The ocean is beautiful, crystal clear. The food is delicious – you will love it. Everything is so cheap. Be sure to save up some money beforehand, because you can get some really nice stuff.” I love stuff. Mexicans have it made. We are almost across the border; the exhaust fumes are irritating.

We are in. I can’t wait to finally see the picturesque landscape, eat the gourmet cuisine, and buy all kinds of awesome trinkets. I guess the mission part of the trip might make a good story someday, too.

I’ve been riding in the backseat of the crowded mini-van for about 40 minutes now which means we still have another 50 minutes or so until we reach our destination, Ensenada, Mexico. The mountainous countryside is breathtaking. I still don’t understand exactly how we are going to effectively serve someone from a nation that has everything by building them a three-room house with no electricity or running water.

My answer came just a moment ago. I’m still receiving it. Over a hundred ramshackle buildings constructed from sheet metal and held together with chicken wire were strewn across a mountainside. Some were stacked on top of others. Suddenly all the visions of sugar-plums and the rest of storybook Mexico had been dashed, no longer dancing in my head. The mountains went from luscious green to a rust-colored ghetto.

David had been fired from his factory job due to downsizing. He had been saving up for a home when his dreams were crushed, and his family was thrust headlong into poverty. We began constructing the house for David and his wife on the second day.

Their kids run around the worksite laughing and playing games with us. Every blister, cut, and bead of sweat was made worth it by the smiles that they afforded. I figured it out. This mission is not about me; it is about bringing change to people who deserve it.

The house is finally completed on the seventh day, and it is good. It’s time to leave the people who I now felt very close to. It is against Mexican culture for men to cry, but David cried on this day. Seeing the joy that he is overcome with, something finally strikes home: there is a world outside of ours that demands we make a difference. I think it is very important for people to know that.

Farewells are finished, now. It is another boring ride home, but my mind is too focused on the heart-break that has changed me to really care.

Several years pass. I signed up for that mission trip for a cheap marble chess set from Mexico; a changed life was not part of the game plan. My beautifully made chess set now sits in a box on the top shelf of my closet, collecting dust. The only things that I still hold onto tightly are the unforgettable moments – playing soccer with the children, talking with David and his wife, sharing a dinner that meant something more than a meal. It is interesting how priorities change in the midst of epiphany, and I’m glad they do.

Feel free to give your 43 cents.
Stonez!