Theory in a Digital Age: A Project of English 483 Students, Coastal Carolina University


It’s 1999 and I’m sitting beside my mother in our two-door, burgundy Ford Escort. It has the kind of seat belts that lift up when you open the door, and come down just enough not to crush your chest when the door is closed. I’m incredibly happy to be sitting up front because I have just gotten a Barbie Steering Wheel for Christmas and had spent all morning getting the suction cups just right on the dash so it’s level with the steering wheel my mother is holding now. Her nails are painted this matted, dark red and I begged her to paint mine the same color a couple of days earlier. Each time her perfectly manicured nails hit the turn signal, my chipped, nervously bitten nails do the same to my mock turn signal. Left at Main Street, right at the Arby’s, zooming past the high school and the grocery- every move she makes, I imitate. A stack of papers to grade in the back seat, Fleetwood Mac blaring on the radio, one hand rests on the wheel, the other on her Diet Pepsi. With each swig she takes, I take a gulp of my Minute Maid Orange Juice. She’s everything I ever wanted to be. She is me, and I am her.

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