This is an in-class assignment I had to do for my Intro to Creative Writing class to supplement our lesson on Character development. The character of Megan is far more complex than what is described here.
Her family called her Megan. She is a lovely young woman with long, blond hair that frames a perfect face with perfect features: an honest smile that never fades; small glasses with square-shaped lenses precariously perched upon a small nose that wrinkles when she grins and laughs; and her eyes…oh, her deep blue eyes that glimmer like the ocean waves as they move on a sunny day; a hypnotic blue that overwhelms your mind with a sense of comfort and safety.
I apologize, I’m getting ahead of myself.
Her parents knew their daughter was special the day she was born, but what proud parents wouldn’t? That is, until the soiled diapers, two-o’clock feedings, and the endless hours chasing some little ball of energy (that’s unfortunately not a puppy) around the house, come along. But she didn’t seem to be a problem for her parents (like the author, even though the author loves to compare himself to others.) As a matter of fact, she seemed to be perfect, although perfection is rarely reached by any human.
Perhaps it was her strong Christian upbringing. Megan was always taught to love her fellow man even if her fellow man would rather shove her down a manhole. Due to that, she has many friends from all over the place. Everybody loves her, especially the homeless folks. Megan developed a special sympathy for them, as well as those kicked around by society, and, as she grew older, decided to work in a homeless shelter.
Now, Megan was a smart young lass (being a blonde doesn’t necessarily mean she was totally braindead; no, Megan hated stereotypes,) and even her parents were surprised how well she excelled in school. As a matter of fact, when they tested her IQ, it came back as a whopping 160. And she doesn’t use “like” more than once in each sentence. How about that?
Sorry. That was uncalled for.
Being a woman of above average intelligence (pardon me if I felt the need to make a joke here), she enjoys mathematics and science, Calculus being her favorite subject of all. Why Calculus, you ask? Megan loves a challenge, which is why she plays chess every day with her old man, and some of her friends (who are, thankfully, not poor sports, since they lose every time).
Now, when you order a intelligence sandwich, you’re likely to get a side of deep-fried arrogance, since, at least from the author’s personal experience, smart people love to belittle the other lowly peons, and even other smart people. You’d expect smarties to be working long hours late at night, caring more about their studies than something as trivial as friendships.
Well, then, friend, I’d have to insist you stop believing the stereotypes you learned in middle school.
Megan loves to have fun. She’s so silly to the point that if you didn’t know how smart she was, you’d think her noggin contained nothing but air. She doesn’t like to party, though, for she’s more traditional than that. A day at the library or a trip to the museum? Sure, she’ll say with a smile and a giddy little giggle. Why not?
But beyond the smiling face and playful, generous disposition, there lies turmoil. You can imagine that being as smart as she is, people around her would have high expectations. Best schools, best careers, the most elite of the elite.
Megan just wants to be normal. She wants to be an average girl like everyone else (who’s female). She doesn’t want her parents breathing down her neck all the time. She doesn’t want college deans and the presidents of corporations looking at her with starry eyes and dollar signs.
Sometimes she gets depressed, and who wouldn’t? Seeing the things she does at the homeless shelter she works at make her feel as if the human race isn’t offering as much as it should, and she takes those sorrows upon herself (even though this author wishes she wouldn’t.)
What can she do to ease her pain? She feels she’s the only one who can answer that question.
