Megan

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.

The Story of Musicland

You may not have heard about it, but there is a place called Musicland, where all the notes and musical symbols live and hang out. All the inhabitants set their clocks by the Time Signature Standard and wake up on the dot, but a few lazy drawls usually stay in bed until ten beats past 4/4. Those who do wake up on time, however, eat their hardy breakfast of noise and go to work, making music for all to enjoy.

Businesses are prosperous in Musicland’s Musica District, since everyone enjoys music. Most businesses have set up partnerships, such as the recent merger between Jazzy Jazz Inc. and the Deep Blues Corp. But things aren’t always as civil as they appear to be: Pop Biz takes most of the profits from the hipsters and Oldies Co. has a strong rivalry with HeavyMetal Productions, whom they blame for stealing Oldies Co.’s profits, and overshadowing their products. Other than that, the music business world is pretty much stable today, although a few low octave notes will tell you stories about the Great Deafness of 1913, where the National Musical Stock Market crashed.

Of course, life in MusicLand isn’t all work, work, work. There’s still hip notes who enjoy catching some sound waves at the beach. Frequent musical shows, such as Mezzoforte and Cresendo’s weekly Opera Extravaganza, are very popular and allow tired notes to decrease their tempo after a hard day. Pianissimo’s Pizzaria is a popular rest stop for hungry symbols on the go, and for those who like to party, TechnoTranceTronix Inc. and Heavy Metal Productions own their own dance halls, where the higher octave notes can get down and boogey.

But there wouldn’t be a MusicLand without its rhythmacratic government, run by the great Treble Clef. Here in MusicLand, it isn’t unusual for a female note to be Clefsident. Some of the highest octaves consider Ms. Clef a role model, and is therefore quite popular with the female notes. The Vice-Clefsident is Bass Clef, who doesn’t really do much in the way of running the government.

—

Now, let us zoom in on one of the citizens of Musicland’s Symbolia City, Mr. Cee Note, to see what he does every day. Mr. Note usually spends his time at his job at the Classical Corp, one of the most prosperous music businesses in all of Musicland. His pay is reasonable, about 5.50 beats an hour, considered minimum tune in Musicland. He’s not married, has no high octaves to take care of, and lives pretty much alone in his Altopartment on Whole Note Avenue.

Usually, Mr. Cee Note wakes up at 3/4 in the morning after a long rest, but today he felt a bit groggy and overslept. Whoops. At least he doesn’t start working until 4/5.

After waking up at five beats past 4/4, he slowly raises out of bed and makes his way to the bathroom for a quick shave. Male notes usually look unattractive with note-hair on their chins, so our Mr. Note quickly shaves it off with a razor. Examining his face in the mirror, he splashes water on himself and heads out the door.

Ah, breakfast. The most important meal of the day. Mr. Note rummages through his cabinets, trying to find a box…oh wait, here’s something! A box of Noise Makerz, his favorite cereal. Taking out a bowl, he dumps the rest of the contents of the box into the bowl and splashes on the mezzo-ilk. BOOM! Nothing like a loud explosion to wake someone up in the morning, eh, Mr. Note? Hey, go easy on the cereal!

Looks like it’s almost 4/5. Mr. Note puts on his coat, and heads out the door. Usually he drives his Altomobile to work, but today he fancies a stroll in the park. Off he wanders into the park, passing by the bronze statue of the founder of Musicland, Jedidiah Cleft.

Passing through the park, Mr. Note meets his friend, Bea Flatt. Ms. Flatt and Mr. Note were close friends ever since octave school, but there is no romantic interest between the two, I assure you. Ms. Flatt is usually down and solemn most of the time, the classic personality of the Flatt family line, but Mr. Note puts up with her tendencies. Hey, Mr. Note, don’t talk too much! You’ve got your job to go to!

Ah yes, Classical Corp. Pretty big building, don’t you think, Mr. Note? All that black and gold trim makes it look like a castle from the Middle Rhythms! But, in you go.

What wonderful sounds we hear! As we follow Mr. Note through the hallways and past the endless rooms full of worker notes, buttons and various machinery. Turn the corner, into the studio. What’s up today, Mr. Note? Ah, I see we have Chel Ohh and Clarry Nett in the studio today. Due to the shortage of jobs in Instrument Vista, instruments immigrate to Symbolia to gain work and earn their share of beats. Let’s begin, shall we? A one, a two, a one, two, three, four…

—

It’s 6/8. Wow, time goes by fast, eh, Mr. Note? It’s back off to your altopartment to watch some tenorvision. Wonder if your note opera, Days of Our Fortes is on…

Oh well, looks like you missed it, but you’re beat anyway. Guess it’s time to sleep! As our hero crawls under the sheet music, the musical sun goes down, and all notes take a nice, long rest.