Misconstrued Thoughts : Yesterday's Misconstrued Thoughts Today

It was a hot day early in June. The Midterm Semester was half way through, and Jeremy knew that if he could endure those last two weeks of torture yet another course would be out of the way. He wasn’t sure how much more of this torture he could take, for in fact the four years he had promised himself to complete was seeming to last an eternity. Yet, half of these were complete. It could be worse he thought. “I could be working in that insidiously horrible factory”, which is where he would be in a matter of weeks.

It was just a matter of minutes before his circuits class would begin. “I had better head over there” he thought with remorse of signing up for this course. Packing up his books he left the library and headed past the University Center. There was much going on as usual in the University Center. “How do these people get through college if they take time just to goof off like all of these folks?”, he thought as he walked past a growing crowd assembled around a Minute Maid display. Over the loud speaker the issue herald forth, “We are still looking for competitors in our Lemon Eating Contest.” “This should be interesting,” thought Jeremy. But time was running short, he had to get to class. As he turned and begin to walk away from the growing crowd, he listened as the announcer proclaimed, “to the winner will go this brand new GT Full Suspension Mountain Bike”. Jeremy quickly turned to see the bike across the courtyard. ”Now that’s a sweet bike” thought Jeremy, what will it matter if I am a couple minutes late for class.

As Jeremy walked closer to the tables where the contest was to take place, the curators of the event seemed desperate for competitors. As it appeared the student body was not embracing the concept of showing themselves foolhardy by consuming as many lemons as humanly possible in one minute. This lack of motivation by others led Jeremy to step forward. “Lack of enthusiasm equals a sure win… I’ve got the enthusiasm”, Jeremy thought to himself. After about three more minutes of coaxing the first group of competitors were assembled. Jeremy along with four others looked nervously down at the mound of lemons. Each competitor was assigned a coach to ensure proper consumption of the lemons.

In a moment’s time, a whistle blew. Jeremy dove down to the table picking up the first lemon and impaling it into his teeth. His initial enthusiasm had disappeared when the lemons acidic fervor made impact with his salivary glands. Jeremy tried to ignore the impending swelling of those glands with each consecutive lemon he downed. “How could one minute be so long”? The swelling of the glands was beginning to combine with a slight tinge of gag reflex as his body created a concerted effort to make Jeremy stop this masochist type act.

As the crowd detected Jeremy’s decreasing determination they wholeheartedly poured there support into making this act come to the full of his fruition. Jeremy’s will to succeed began to overcome any contact with his bodies desperate plea of succeeding from these actions. And in no time after these last wandering thoughts the cry went out to quit.

The crowd cheered on Jeremy’s attempt thinking it was shear will power that had led him to what would appear a win in this first round. As the judges counted consumed lemons, Jeremy’s own confidence in a win began to grow. “Eleven and a half lemons”, the final number astounded Jeremy. Joy abounded he only need one more heat of competition. “Thirteen Lemons”… announced another judge. Jeremy had been beat. If only he had the ending zeal at the apex of the race. So close.

“Well here is your Tshirt” the judge told Jeremy. “A lousy Tshirt is all I get” thought Jeremy with a smile on his face. He decided to stay for one more round to see how this group would perform. Once again a desperate cry went out for competitors. No one would step up to the act. But in time five more had destined themselves with body inflicted hatred. Time seemed to go so much faster when you were only watching another take part in this vile acts, thought Jeremy to himself. In no time the judges were counting. “Eight Lemons” proclaimed the judge next to the winner? “Eight lemons?” announced Jeremy irritated by the ending results. Those behind agreed, “You did a lot better than them.

Once again the competition continued the third and final round before the championship round for the bike. Once again the desperate cry went out. “We need 5 competitors”. By this point the willing spirit had truly waned as the crowd had watch at least 3 competitors lose there lunch and there lemons. “We need 3 competitors” proclaimed the event coordinator. After two more minutes of request, instinct kicked in for Jeremy. “Can I try again?”, he asked. “Sure” the judges agreed. This time he had the compassion, he had the vision, he had the willpower. Nothing could hold him back.

After a few more minutes of request, 4 other souls had sold themselves to the citrus devil, in an attempt to conquer there material desires. But in a much shorter time the competition had began. Jeremy went this time into the lemons like a bomb into a house of glass. He had refined his technique and nothing could stop him. His supporters stood in amazement. “He’s insane watch him” But no sooner had those words left one persons mouth when all the sensations that Jeremy had been repressing attacked Jeremy. A strong sweat fell across his brow, and he looked down. The gag reflex had began, and he was afraid it couldn’t be stopped. He looked up to the sky looking for a regain of mental control… control over all those things in his mind one should not have control… control of his sweat glands, control of his feelings, control of his stomach. A garbage bin was pulled near him so that he could complete the act of purging his system of the vile acidity. Jeremy looked down at this. “I will not fall to lack of control of my body,” he thought as he looked over at the other competitors eating there lemons like rabid wolves.

In a flash… he was back at eating the lemons. In a post euphoric state… a state of loss of consciousness beyond the motion of picking up lemons, plastering them into the face and swallowing. The crowd was ecstatic with this determination. In a matter of seconds it was over. The counting then began. “Eleven lemons,” proclaimed Jeremy’s judge. “Eleven and one quarter,” proclaimed the next judge. “So close” thought Jeremy. If only hadn’t lost control. “One quarter lemon”… arghhh. His outward emotion resembled less frustration as near death sickness. The judges came over to make sure he was ok. (As well as to bring him his consolatory prize, another t-shirt). Appreciating his willpower, they began to give Jeremy other items, book bags, more t shirts, mugs. But the bicycle… that would never be his.

Jeremy took off for class. His concern no longer was the bicycle but the test review he was late for. As he jogged across campus his gurgling stomach reminded him of his stupid act. His teeth which were now devoid of any enamel, reminded him of his stupid act. And finally, his mind with the image of the bike and the guy smiling because of his quarter lemon … reminded him of his stupidity.

“Fifteen minutes late”, not to bad thought Jeremy as he walked into Hess Hall. The summer heat filled the building, and running halfway across campus did not help matters either. He sat down and dug for pencil and paper to begin to take notes. But in just a small matter of time… the sweat began to pour down his face. The summer heat was always so bad in this classroom. As the sweat began to grow on his face, he looked down… concentrating not on the sweat, but the words being said… the notes to be taken. “What is he talking about” he thought. Then it hit him. The sweat that had formed on his face, began to roll down his forehead into the corner of his eyes. The burning was incredible. The pain was so great. In his mad attack on the lemons he had dappled his whole face with the acidic juice which now had rolled into his eyes. He had to get out of the class… he had to wash his face… he had to just run water in his eyes. The pain was excruciating. How could he even see to get out of the classroom?

His eyes which were burning from the acid, reminded him of his stupid act.