Shitty First Draft

My literacy started wih my mother. She began the process of my gears turning in my head. She has mechanically engineered how I have beceom a person and a writer. I feel as though she knew and has always know how she is affected me and takes pride in the way she has sculpted me. My mom always tells me to be a good boy and do what I am suposeed to do , yet I know that she knows she has taught me well. I know she knows that I wont trip up, but at the same time I know she worries I will turnout like my sister,. My sister love writing and was a gfreat writer, but for whatev er reason she let her life go to shit and gave up on a lot of her dreams. She could have been one of these famous authors wirting who knows what because I knever knew what she was writing about. She went to Washington D.C. in the 8th grade to show off an eassay she had written it was that good. Writing surprisingly to me is actuallky a big topic in my family and I am just now figuring this out in my head as I am typing this. My mom writes all the time and is constantly a person to organize notes and layout what she needs to do through the execessive use of sticky notes. I believeI have sticky otes almost everyonewhere I go and it is not because I am aobessed with the colors or love to make art dododles to flip through the pages. It is simpoy because they help organize a thougsand thoughts per second. They are tracks in my train of thought. I dont exactrly know how my mother thinks which actually now that I think about it kind of bothers me, but I know she is CONSTANTLY thinking. She is worse than I am. I always swear to having 1,000,000,000 things on my mind at a time, but her mind must be exponentially gtreter and more full than mind. If for nothing else the fact that she has gone through so much in her life that iat this point is skeptical to most people, but I believe. Sbew was in the Israeli army for 2 years. THAT aloine should be enough to want to write for ages. I think I may be getting off topic slightly though. My terrible point I am trying to make is that when you have a mother like this filling you empyty head up with traumatic and amazing things you start to become a littlebit of a traumatic and amazing person yourself. Now dont think I am some superior douche boasting myself to seem gereater because I am not at all. At most times in writing I commonly feel like I could do much better wrk and dont spend enough time organizing my thoughts to what they should be. I write 50% downloads. Perhaps that figure is about too harsh, but I commonly feel like my work could be better. The curse of an artist some would say (or at least what I hope some would say unless I am just crazy which I would not rule out). There is another point, I use the word crazy more than anyone should. I am talking more than people in mental institutions should. I dont know if that is because I perceive myself as being crazy or just think the world around and the mentalities of people are sometimes pretty damn crazy, . This constant thought process is what really shapes how I write. Even though I only recently saw this movie in the Great Gastby the main character Nick Carraway is a metnal patient and his doctor is suggesting that he should write what he thinks and almost turn hi s life into s a story. Ironically that leads in to the book but that is just Hollywood magic ant its finest. Anway, I feel like /Nick Carrway in this movie. I almost feel apart of my life and at the same time waaway from it at te same time. It is like I am the actor and directing myself at the same time. In this directing there is a lot of head shaking and screaming WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING. All these crazy situations (crazy again) form me into this crazy Timothy Francesco Benvenuti package. I write because life makes situations worth writing about. Or I write because I am instructed to and in those instructions I find out that I kind of like this. I LOVE to ramble. I can on for sdays about tnoting. Maybe that is a lawyer technicque I am just keen to pickn upo on, but I feel it is just

how my mind is working. It doesnt make sense! This nonsensical craziness is wahat I love and I think when I write I am realizing just how crazy it can be and just how crazy I possibly may be. This is turning into a pysch evualtion and less of a literacy thing though so I digress. Wow I am all over the place, OK! Back to my mother. My mom is obviously the parent I care for the most. She is the one who birthed me so scienticfically I am just closer to her and her mindset. Her and I can disagree on a lot of things and some ofg her opinions are just so blantly ridiculous I cannot begin to comprehend them. But then, at the same time I completely agree with her and even thoug I try, I am not the best son I could be to here. Maybe this is just guilt trips seeping their way into my head, but at times I feel guilty about how I say things to her. I think with writing and this feeling that I have they intermingle. They reach each other at a common midpoint.