A Scholarly Sloth

At first glance, the sloth and I have little in common. It is indigenous to South America and lives upside-down from a tree branch while I, on the other hand, am indigenous to Los Altos, California and live off of Diet Coke and peanut butter-and-jelly sandwiches. But when it comes to writing, however, the sloth and I could not be more alike.

The sloth is most recognizable by his painstakingly slow movements. Whether he is inching his way along a tree branch or crawling along the forest floor, the sloth takes several minutes to cover ground traversed by humans in a matter of seconds. Many people explain this hairy animal’s sluggish speed by labeling the sloth a lethargic and clumsy creature when in reality; the opposite is true. Each gesture and change in position is carefully calculated and meticulously carried out in order to maintain the sloth’s balance on his branch. One hasty move in any direction could send him falling hundreds of feet to his death. As a writer, I can identify with the sloth’s reasoning. Every time I begin an essay, article, or story, I feel as if I’m situated precariously on the sloth’s tree branch, where even one misused adjective or awkward phrase could send me hurtling towards the forest floor; back to square one. Therefore I am sloth-like with my writing speed and don’t move forward with the next sentence until I am entirely content with the one preceding it. While time is sacrificed for the sake of perfection, my meticulous approach ensures that I am satisfied with the quality of each draft just as the sloth is satisfied with the safety that his unhurried movements allow him.

Just as the sloth embodies me as a writer, his tree habitat is analogous to my foundation of English education. Sloths typically live their entire lives moving from branch to branch on just one tree, referred to as their home tree. Given that each branch of the tree varies in length and sturdiness, the sloth can visually