Placing the pen on paper, I commit to a series of ideas that are unknown to me. Placed before me, the prompt rests on the desk and a pencil erases away my mind, static fills the void in my head. I read and I read. I read the prompt; I read the context; I write my notes and a bundle of ideas blossom in my mind. I struggle to transfer my thoughts into comprehensive sentences that will fully encompass my understanding of the subject. Every single time I walk out the door, my once busy mind flooding with words calms down to a stream of well-developed concepts and analysis that I could have used had I thought of it during class. My mind procrastinates and the time pressured slot cannot coerce my mind to cooperate. When I write, I like to read aloud
