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Stream of Consciousness Essay Sample

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Stream of Consciousness Essay Sample

“Jack, time for dinner!” My mom called to me from downstairs. She such a pest when it comes to getting me to do something. She will just say the same thing over and over. “Jack! Come get your dinner!” See there it is again. “Fine!” I shout back in reply just to get her to be quiet for a bit. I look at my computer screen. Only 5% left. I should get the charger, but it’s all the way over there and I don’t feel like it. Twitter and Facebook are dead, which makes it even harder to cope with the boringness. “Your food is going to get cold!” says the irritating voice. Then, my computer screen goes black. Well, I guess that’s my reason I should go eat. I stumble through the door and stomp down the stairs. It was a running day at soccer, and my calves are aching. As I finally hit the bottom the strong scent of deliciousness hits my nostrils. “What’s on the menu today?” I ask my Mom. She replies, “Spaghetti and tomato sauce.” I guess I am in the mood for spaghetti. Although, I’m not that hungry. “I think this is the best spaghetti I’ve ever cooked!” Mom brags. “You say that every time no matter what it is you are cooking.” I honestly inform her. I plop down at the bar and wait to be served my food. “You have two legs, get up and fix your own plate.” She barks at me, “Oh, and we are all eating in the dining room together.”

Oh brother, this is going to be so much fun. I walk over to the stove where the spaghetti is still steaming in the pot. As I reach in with my fork to get some, the steam rises around me creating a warm sensation. I put a reasonable amount on my plate before hearing my dad, “Come on son, you need to eat more that that.” I scoop a little more on my plate, and drench the spaghetti in tomato sauce. I walk over to the table and take the same seat I have for the last 10 years. Robert is in the study room watching TV. Of course, that’s what he always does. It’s like he is in sort of a dream state whenever he is around any sort of electronics. My mom has to call him several times before he even takes notice that she is there. My sister is there blabbering about how cool cheer clinic and showing off all her moves. B.B. is outside as he always is. He is the nature child of the family. He is always interested in shows like Man vs. Wild and Dual Survival. My mother calls him from the front porch, and he eventually shows up. The steam is rising from my plate creating the same sensation from earlier. I twirl my fork in the noodle maze, and bring the fork to my mouth. Actually, this might actually be the the best spaghetti she has ever cooked!

There’s something about homemade food that just cannot compete with restaurants, and still have yet to figure out what it is. A scarf down the rest of my food before anyone else. “Do you want seconds?” My mom asks. “No, I’m fine. Thank you, though.” I say, “May I be excused?” “No, you just got here, stay and talk to us for a little while.” Now this is the worst part. Having to stay and listen to all the cheesy stories and about everyones day. Finally the question gets around to me, “How was your day, Jack?” My dad asks. “Ehh, it was alright.” I reply, “Just the same old school day.” “No tests or bad grades?” “Nope. Well, we did have a Geometry test, but I thought it was pretty easy.” I think I made an 80 on it. Oh well, I have a high enough average to hold up. I listen to everyone drone on before asking to be excused for a second time. “Fine.” Says my mother, “But you have to put your plate in the sink.” “Thank you, I enjoyed it.” I say as a back my chair from the table. I drop my plate in the sink and stomp up the stairs to my room. I should probably do homework. Nah, I’ll just wait until in the morning.

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