When I first was asked to introduce John, I was, I'll admit, a bit daunted by the task, for John seemed to me a figure cloaked in magic and mystery. I asked around, but everyone else seemed as enchanted and baffled as I was by his impenetrable facade- "what is the moon?" they said I might as well ask, "what are the stars?" -and I was left empty-handed with narry an amusing anecdote to share. When I was all but ready to give up, I received one day, an anonymous email, telling me if I ever hoped to understand the one who is named John Hart, I was to meet outside Turlington Hall at midnight, and come alone.
When I arrived at the spot, my mystery date was no where to be found, but upon the ground, rolled up and tied with a lock of long dark hair, was what appeared to be several pages torn from a girl's diary. I will now read to you one of the pages:
Dear Diary,
The semester is at an end-I can't believe it has gone by so fast! I don't know how I'll ever leave Technical Writing, and John, my sweet John, behind forever. My friends said I was crazy to get involved with him, that he is rude, he chain-smokes, dresses like a Cuban gangster, and is the worst TA ever. I don't care what they say. I wouldn't expect anyone of their immaturity to grasp his subtle, powerful command of the memo format. (I get wet just thinking about it!)
But maybe they were right. At first I was enamored by him, his tall, powerful physique, his masculine charm, his tattoo- something in French I think- how romantic! And I even liked the way he insisted on calling me "Fransceca" even though it was kind of weird. But alas, I don't think my wild Kansas stallion can be tamed. For one, every time he leaves my dorm, my mascara has "mysteriously disappeared". And the other night after he left, I discovered my beloved cat zipped inside a duffel bag in my closet, and when I asked it about him about it, he only said, "I thought it wanted to go in its 'cage'".
At dinner the other night, he put his hand on mine, looked into my eyes and announced lovingly that he was going to give me a B. And the love poems I slipped him in class he returned to me with many of the lines marked out, which, he told me, were "cliche and overwritten."
Nevertheless I will never forget the time we shared together, and we'll always have tech writing.
-Anonymous
I trust this has given you a more candid glimpse into the man we now know and love, than I could have provided. Without further introduction, I give you John Hart.
