Paper Cranes :: Creative Writing Essays

Paper Cranes 1. From the Menninger Institutes seven criteria for emotional maturity The cleverness to find much satisfaction in giving than receiving. The capacity to affect to other people in a consistent military manner with coarse satisfaction and helpfulness. The capacity to love. 2. In the opening scene of the film L.I.E., the main character, Howie, a fifteen-year-old son 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 scratch, 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 width 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 infra him, all oblivious to the boy who, with just the slightest sudden gust, could land, crumpled, on th eir 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 snuggling him. And as you watch the rest of the movie, that whimsy never leaves Howie only seems more and more alone. You see the already motherless Howie throw out by his father, abandoned by the boy hed thought was his best friend, bullied at school, until the only someone left to listen to him at all is a middle-aged man who also happens to be a pedophile. At first I was umbrageous that the director portrayed this pedophile as the only person uncoerced to put a supportive arm around Howies shoulder. After all, arent pedophiles scrap? But then I realized that maybe that was the point. Its painless to judge. And its easy to keep speeding home, aware only of the other metal boxes zooming along next to you in tenuous synchrony. 3. When I was little I got fevers. They were self-conscious fevers that made it so all I could think about was feeling nauseous and anticipating the moment when I would feel well enough to feed in 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 dormancy or not, I wasnt sure when I was dreaming or not, either.