The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien - Essay Example

The Things I Carried First, it was the small guitar that my mum bought me when I was aged four. It was small to fit in a backpack, but it was large enough to represent a dream. You see, being a nerd in a school where how popular you are is the only thing that matters is not so easy. At four o’clock, I would open my locker and stand by watching as people passed and made faces at me while going to their different clubs, wishing I could belong in one of them.Unlike many other schools you see in movies, there was no nerd club or chess club or any other that presented for us an opportunity to fit in somewhere.

We just got lost somewhere within the school system between four and five. I would sit by the verandah next to the music room after every one was passed, I would take out my miniature guitar and imagine myself playing in a different auditorium each time, with different audience, but the end was always the same- a standing ovation.The things I carried were basically dictated by necessity as well as whichever day it was. Books, pen, handkerchief, lunch box, pocket change in my wallet that also had a photo of my mother and I and my phone were everyday requirements.

It was illegal to carry a phone to school, but who knew when my great breakthrough to fame would come? I would need to call my friends, who by the way were non-existent. What I Carried Varied With DaysOn Wednesdays, I carried my P.E kit, not because I was good in any game anyway, but then again, could not a young man dream? Dreaming should define every young man out there and am not an exception to those who dream, or am I? On Thursdays, I carried my camera so that I could sneak in to the girls’ bathroom and take a photo of my crush since when I was four, it has always been my dream to take a picture of my crush.

At least that I did, before being caught and having it destroyed by the bully boyfriend of hers. It was a very painful thing seeing what it being destroyed without any help or being in a position to do anything to stop their actions. Along the way, my guitar got heavier, the weight in the realization that I would never become famous crawled in, and the reality started to sink in me. It culminated on the day I was found carrying out my fantasy routine by the schools head jock, the day that I will live to remember because of the shame I felt.

The embarrassment of that day could not be captured by pen, but it’s fresh in my memory, and can narrate it as though it happened yesterday. I resolved to keep a diary instead, for easy recordings of any happening in my life, successful, disappoints, funny and enjoyable. Or maybe not, time would tell.Work CitedBloom, Harold. Tim Obriens the Things They Carried. Philadelphia: Chelsea House Publishers, 2005. Print.