Brandon:
Hey Brandon, I couldn't find your post for prompt 50 this week, but I your post for 52 was great. Once again, I found this post to be very easily to relate to due to my very own pokemon obsession as a child. Your experiences with pokemon are probably much like many people our age. Your post was good in that it conveyed the feelings of kid who just experienced pokemon for the first time, without actually writing in the point of view of the kid. It seems to me that its more difficult to do. Kudos to you on that. Anyway, I wish you luck on your final and can't wait to read it later today!
Chelsee:
Hi there, Chelsee. It's our last official peer review. Here we go! Your first post about faith was a little sad. Sad for both of us because I could relate to it almost exactly. It's depressing to say that I'm sure many people can relate to this. I was glad to hear that your story had a happy ending though. Keep your head up; you'll get there eventually. Your second piece, "The Redneck in My Blood Loves Trucks," was entertaining. I'm not really a girly girl, but I can honestly say I don't know or even care to know much about vehicles. I think it's cool that you like trucks so much. The piece was well written and had great voice. I got a real sense of your personality out of this. Once again, good luck on the final and I can't wait to read the rough draft!
Alyssa:
Hey again, Alyssa! Your post on faith this week was extremely moving. May I be as bold as to say I think it would be a great piece for you to do your final essay on? I really loved it and was personally moved and forced to think about my own definition of faith because as of late, I've been lacking in that department. It was full of voice and passion and though I don't know how long ago this happened, I'm sorry for your loss. Your second post was great also. It reminded me much of my own of the same prompt. Little kids are so hilarious. Their thought processes are amazing and I think you captured the innocence perfectly. You're a great writer and I can't wait to read your rough draft for your final paper later today. Good luck!
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Hot Pink Convertible Please! (Prompt # 52)
I want that car so much! My Barbies would love it! It's so shiny and pink! I love pink! It's my favorite color! My sisters would be so jealous if my Barbies had a car and theirs didn't. They would have to walk their Barbies everywhere or ask me to drive them...Yes! They would have to ask me. I could charge them too! Oooooh! I want that car sooooooo bad!
Maybe if I'm really super duper good, Mom will buy it for me. Probably not. Hmmm next holiday? Easter! Eh no. Well I can't wait for my birthday in November. That's like a bajillion months away. This is no fair! I NEED that car I have lots of change saved up that I found all over the house, like from under the couch, in the laundry room, and from Dad's pants pockets. Maybe I can buy it all by myself. Maybe Mom will take me to get it now. The lady on the t.v. said it was fabulous! "Mom! Mom! Mom! We have to go to the store right this instant. I have to get something very important!"
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Lost But Not Necessarily Missed (Prompt #50)
It didn't come on all at once with the sudden realization that it was gone. It was subtle and the realization that it was gone was just that. It was simple. Not overwhelming.
All my life my family, both on my mom's and my dad's side, have been LDS. I grew up in it. Don't get me wrong though, it wasn't as if the religion was shoved down my throat. It was always just my natural way of life, part of my upbringing.
Over the years, my immediate family was torn apart by my parents' divorce. Religious practices were offset by depression and stress. Eventually we all quit attending church. In high school, when I got my license, my sisters and I started going again. We really enjoyed all going together. I was happy because I felt that I was being a good example for them. A couple of years went by and there were aspects of the religion that I didn't necessarily agree with that I hadn't noticed as a child. There were simple things in my life that I did or said that I was forced to feel bad about. I'm not a horrible person by any stretch of the imagination.
I slowly stopped going to church and church activities. I would over sleep or fake sick. When my sister was old enough to drive, I quit everything altogether.
Over the span of at least a decade, I've lost my faith. I don't feel remorse over it either, just happy to live my life.
All my life my family, both on my mom's and my dad's side, have been LDS. I grew up in it. Don't get me wrong though, it wasn't as if the religion was shoved down my throat. It was always just my natural way of life, part of my upbringing.
Over the years, my immediate family was torn apart by my parents' divorce. Religious practices were offset by depression and stress. Eventually we all quit attending church. In high school, when I got my license, my sisters and I started going again. We really enjoyed all going together. I was happy because I felt that I was being a good example for them. A couple of years went by and there were aspects of the religion that I didn't necessarily agree with that I hadn't noticed as a child. There were simple things in my life that I did or said that I was forced to feel bad about. I'm not a horrible person by any stretch of the imagination.
I slowly stopped going to church and church activities. I would over sleep or fake sick. When my sister was old enough to drive, I quit everything altogether.
Over the span of at least a decade, I've lost my faith. I don't feel remorse over it either, just happy to live my life.
Week 14: Peer Review
Brandon:
It's the last week of normal class! Your first post of the week, " Adventures in Solitude" was really awesome. I used to work retail and reading your post immediately brought me back to the days where I would stand for hours folding t-shirts or walk around attending to the messy fitting rooms. You really have great voice. Your second post was also great. I took the opposite stance on memoir writing and graphic works, but yours really made me think about it. I'm not totally against it; I just think full text is better. Great job and good luck on your final!
Chelsee:
Hey Chelsee! Your first post this week, " Sparky Has Taken Over My Wardrobe" was great. I really love how you incorporated your title in to the actual story. It was creative and I liked it. I also really liked how easily I was able to relate to your post. I feel like we've all been in your position at least once or twice. Most of our posts for this prompt at least have some similarities between them because we've all held jobs where we didn't feel appreciate or we were just plain bored. I admire how you made it your own. For your second post, I found it interesting the way you perceived the prompt. I like how you made it an "either/or" type situation. All in all, great work and I wish you luck on your final!
Alyssa:
Hey there, Alyssa! I really enjoyed your piece, " Over." I know it didn't stick to the prompt, but I didn't mind one bit. It was creative and a great insight to what you've been up to. It was also a great insight to your character and your personality. In other words, it was revealing. Your second post about graphic novel writing was also insightful. In my post I similarly point out the benefit of using the illustrations to clarify the author's thoughts or points, but conversely, I ended up saying that I would stick to plain text. I guess I just don't enjoy graphic works as much as I do a good book. Anyway, I digress. Great posts this week. I can't wait to read your final. Good luck!
It's the last week of normal class! Your first post of the week, " Adventures in Solitude" was really awesome. I used to work retail and reading your post immediately brought me back to the days where I would stand for hours folding t-shirts or walk around attending to the messy fitting rooms. You really have great voice. Your second post was also great. I took the opposite stance on memoir writing and graphic works, but yours really made me think about it. I'm not totally against it; I just think full text is better. Great job and good luck on your final!
Chelsee:
Hey Chelsee! Your first post this week, " Sparky Has Taken Over My Wardrobe" was great. I really love how you incorporated your title in to the actual story. It was creative and I liked it. I also really liked how easily I was able to relate to your post. I feel like we've all been in your position at least once or twice. Most of our posts for this prompt at least have some similarities between them because we've all held jobs where we didn't feel appreciate or we were just plain bored. I admire how you made it your own. For your second post, I found it interesting the way you perceived the prompt. I like how you made it an "either/or" type situation. All in all, great work and I wish you luck on your final!
Alyssa:
Hey there, Alyssa! I really enjoyed your piece, " Over." I know it didn't stick to the prompt, but I didn't mind one bit. It was creative and a great insight to what you've been up to. It was also a great insight to your character and your personality. In other words, it was revealing. Your second post about graphic novel writing was also insightful. In my post I similarly point out the benefit of using the illustrations to clarify the author's thoughts or points, but conversely, I ended up saying that I would stick to plain text. I guess I just don't enjoy graphic works as much as I do a good book. Anyway, I digress. Great posts this week. I can't wait to read your final. Good luck!
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Graphic Memoirs (Prompt # 49)
Graphic novels and comic books/strips? Honestly, I'm not a fan and really haven't been for as long as I can remember. After reading several memoirs in the graphic illustrated form this week, my opinion hasn't changed much. Sure, the pictures help with reading comprehension (most of the time), but honestly, the way I see it, if the memoir was written in plain text form, would everything be as hard to follow? My guess is no.
The one benefit to writing a graphic novel is that the author can use the illustrations to help convey to the readers the different situations and settings exactly as they remember them. Usually, I prefer to use my imagination for these aspects of literature, but it only makes sense to see these as the author did. In " Lucky," I think having the author's memoir in plain text with more detail to description and what happened between the main events (i.e. each new comic box) would've made it easier to follow. The thoughts were choppy and broken up into the most important happenings in the excerpt from the graphic novel, but I really think an actually novel with plenty of details would've made more sense to me. For this reason, I'm going to have to say that graphic novels and/or comic strips aren't the best option for putting together a memoir.
The one benefit to writing a graphic novel is that the author can use the illustrations to help convey to the readers the different situations and settings exactly as they remember them. Usually, I prefer to use my imagination for these aspects of literature, but it only makes sense to see these as the author did. In " Lucky," I think having the author's memoir in plain text with more detail to description and what happened between the main events (i.e. each new comic box) would've made it easier to follow. The thoughts were choppy and broken up into the most important happenings in the excerpt from the graphic novel, but I really think an actually novel with plenty of details would've made more sense to me. For this reason, I'm going to have to say that graphic novels and/or comic strips aren't the best option for putting together a memoir.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Monotony...An Insult to My Intelligence (Prompt #45)
"Beep...Beep...Beep." Everything "beeps" here. All I hear is beeping, humming, and people. Some days (more often than not) the people are the worst. They yell at you for all sorts of reasons, and most of them are not even legitimate.
Day after day, I slowly walk to the back, not even bothering to pick up my feet as I go. I fumble around in my purse for my badge and pull it out just in time to run it though the time-clock like I've done too many times before. I then collect my job necessities: my black pen, water bottle, chapstick, and name tag. I then head toward the front where all of the cash registers are located, where I'll spend at least the next couple of hours in monotonous Hell.
This job wasn't always this bad. In fact, when I first started, I loved ringing things through with the scanners. It was just like all of the times I had played imaginary grocery store with my younger sister. As time went on though, and I spent more of my time here, I realized how boring and repetitive it actually is. Why don't I find a new place of employment? I don't look elsewhere for several reasons. The first reason being that they're good with accommodating my busy and ever-changing school schedule. The second reason is that this job is so simple a monkey could easily do it, and the third reason is that finding a new job nowadays isn't an easy task. So, unitl I find something to replace my lackadaisical employment choice, I'll just deal with the crabby people and the never ending "beeps..."
Day after day, I slowly walk to the back, not even bothering to pick up my feet as I go. I fumble around in my purse for my badge and pull it out just in time to run it though the time-clock like I've done too many times before. I then collect my job necessities: my black pen, water bottle, chapstick, and name tag. I then head toward the front where all of the cash registers are located, where I'll spend at least the next couple of hours in monotonous Hell. This job wasn't always this bad. In fact, when I first started, I loved ringing things through with the scanners. It was just like all of the times I had played imaginary grocery store with my younger sister. As time went on though, and I spent more of my time here, I realized how boring and repetitive it actually is. Why don't I find a new place of employment? I don't look elsewhere for several reasons. The first reason being that they're good with accommodating my busy and ever-changing school schedule. The second reason is that this job is so simple a monkey could easily do it, and the third reason is that finding a new job nowadays isn't an easy task. So, unitl I find something to replace my lackadaisical employment choice, I'll just deal with the crabby people and the never ending "beeps..."
Monday, April 11, 2011
Week 13: Peer Review
Brandon:
Hi there! Your posts this week were definitely interesting. I always have a favorite though and this week, it was "Tired Edition." I really loved how you put your voice into it without using any personal pronouns to let us (your readers) know that everything was from your point of view and consisted purely of your own opinion. I truly commend that; it's pretty difficult to pull of successfully. Your second post " First World Problems" was also interesting. I would only recommend that when writing for such an open audience, not knowing where they stand politically, it may be a good idea to be more open to both sides. You did have some really great points in that post though. Keep it up!
Chelsee:
Chelsee, I first of all would like to say that I am sorry for your loss. I really hope that isn't too presumptuous. I feel for you. Your post on it was done beautifully and I appreciate the fact that you were open enough to share the experience with us. With the way you described the event and the people, I could picture everything in my mind perfectly. Your more recent post, " April is Autism Awareness Month," was equally well-written. My favorite aspect was, oddly enough, the title. I thought it was clever that you snuck in the fact that it was Autism Awareness month and leave it at that. You didn't have to elaborate on it in the piece. I know it isn't that elaborate and you didn't think much of it when you did it, but I thought it was ingenious. I look forward to reading your posts next week.
Alyssa:
Hello again Alyssa! Once again, I loved your posts this week. Your earlier post of the week, "Mono Tone" was different than all of the others I read for prompt 42, but not in a bad way of course. It was different in that it was all about you but from an outsider's point of view. It was different and interesting. I love seeing how different people can interpret the different prompts we are assigned. Your second post, " UNjustified Eating" was very interesting in that we (your audience members) were able to see how food and diets effect different people's lives in different ways and from different points of views. I truly commend you on this, for I don't quite think I could pull it off myself. Once again, I look forward to reading your posts next week. Keep up the great work.
Hi there! Your posts this week were definitely interesting. I always have a favorite though and this week, it was "Tired Edition." I really loved how you put your voice into it without using any personal pronouns to let us (your readers) know that everything was from your point of view and consisted purely of your own opinion. I truly commend that; it's pretty difficult to pull of successfully. Your second post " First World Problems" was also interesting. I would only recommend that when writing for such an open audience, not knowing where they stand politically, it may be a good idea to be more open to both sides. You did have some really great points in that post though. Keep it up!
Chelsee:
Chelsee, I first of all would like to say that I am sorry for your loss. I really hope that isn't too presumptuous. I feel for you. Your post on it was done beautifully and I appreciate the fact that you were open enough to share the experience with us. With the way you described the event and the people, I could picture everything in my mind perfectly. Your more recent post, " April is Autism Awareness Month," was equally well-written. My favorite aspect was, oddly enough, the title. I thought it was clever that you snuck in the fact that it was Autism Awareness month and leave it at that. You didn't have to elaborate on it in the piece. I know it isn't that elaborate and you didn't think much of it when you did it, but I thought it was ingenious. I look forward to reading your posts next week.
Alyssa:
Hello again Alyssa! Once again, I loved your posts this week. Your earlier post of the week, "Mono Tone" was different than all of the others I read for prompt 42, but not in a bad way of course. It was different in that it was all about you but from an outsider's point of view. It was different and interesting. I love seeing how different people can interpret the different prompts we are assigned. Your second post, " UNjustified Eating" was very interesting in that we (your audience members) were able to see how food and diets effect different people's lives in different ways and from different points of views. I truly commend you on this, for I don't quite think I could pull it off myself. Once again, I look forward to reading your posts next week. Keep up the great work.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Unjustified Revenge (Prompt #43)
There are times in our lives when we hear stories about mishaps and unjust events that take place in other people's lives and think, "Man that sucks! I'm glad that isn't me..." I've always had those moments. It isn't a lack of sympathy, but more a sigh of relief; as if to say to Fate, "Thanks for letting me catch a break again." Life is funny though and no matter how honest, unselfish, fair, kind, or giving you may be something is always going to come around to bite you in the ass. Thats just how things work.
I guess I was due for a major "unfair mishap" last week. It all started a couple of years ago when I began dating someone right after my high school graduation. We were great together for almost two years, so great in fact, that we moved in together and he proposed. Not seeing a reason to decline his offer, I accepted. Months later I realized that I had made a huge mistake with my life and that I no longer wanted to share it with him (there were many reasons behind this, but that's a completely different story we won't get into for the sake of boring everyone). I called off the engagement and he moved out, leaving me alone in the one bedroom apartment. At first, I was so lonely. I would beg friends and family members to spend more time with me once I had them out just so I could avoid going home to an empty apartment that reminded me of the person I cared so much about but had decided I was better off without. I eventually moved on. Don't we all?
I started dating again and met someone I really liked. He was respectful in every way and only wanted to make me happy. It was refreshing and perfect for me. Somewhere in the midst of my newfound happiness, my ex had found out about the new guy and decided it was time to plot his revenge on me. Revenge for what you may ask. That was my question to him as well. I never got an answer...
I came home one day after my classes got out so that I could change before going to work. I unlocked my apartment door and as soon as I walked in, I knew what had happened. My belongings were everywhere. Strewn all over the floor was my personal library and pictures of my family. He had broken in and exacted his unreasonable and unjust revenge on my life. I sat in the middle of my living room floor, head between knees sobbing. It wasn't until I got over the fact that my things were destroyed that I noticed I was missing some stuff. Not only did he wreak havoc on my entire apartment, he had stolen things as well.
I couldn't get a hold of him. I left voice-mails on his cell phone asking him what on the Earth could've possessed him to do such a thing, but for the entire night I never heard from him. I did however get phone calls from his mother. She threatened me and called me names. After hanging up on her several times, and threatening her with the authorities, I began receiving text messages with the same undeserved words. Not knowing (I still don't know what inspired this chaos) why this was happening to me, I curled up in my bed and cried most of the night. The very next day, I packed my things, broke my lease, and began moving out. I will never forgive him for unnecessarily turning my life upside down and I hope with my entire being that somehow karma gets him, and soon.
I guess I was due for a major "unfair mishap" last week. It all started a couple of years ago when I began dating someone right after my high school graduation. We were great together for almost two years, so great in fact, that we moved in together and he proposed. Not seeing a reason to decline his offer, I accepted. Months later I realized that I had made a huge mistake with my life and that I no longer wanted to share it with him (there were many reasons behind this, but that's a completely different story we won't get into for the sake of boring everyone). I called off the engagement and he moved out, leaving me alone in the one bedroom apartment. At first, I was so lonely. I would beg friends and family members to spend more time with me once I had them out just so I could avoid going home to an empty apartment that reminded me of the person I cared so much about but had decided I was better off without. I eventually moved on. Don't we all?
I started dating again and met someone I really liked. He was respectful in every way and only wanted to make me happy. It was refreshing and perfect for me. Somewhere in the midst of my newfound happiness, my ex had found out about the new guy and decided it was time to plot his revenge on me. Revenge for what you may ask. That was my question to him as well. I never got an answer...
I came home one day after my classes got out so that I could change before going to work. I unlocked my apartment door and as soon as I walked in, I knew what had happened. My belongings were everywhere. Strewn all over the floor was my personal library and pictures of my family. He had broken in and exacted his unreasonable and unjust revenge on my life. I sat in the middle of my living room floor, head between knees sobbing. It wasn't until I got over the fact that my things were destroyed that I noticed I was missing some stuff. Not only did he wreak havoc on my entire apartment, he had stolen things as well.
I couldn't get a hold of him. I left voice-mails on his cell phone asking him what on the Earth could've possessed him to do such a thing, but for the entire night I never heard from him. I did however get phone calls from his mother. She threatened me and called me names. After hanging up on her several times, and threatening her with the authorities, I began receiving text messages with the same undeserved words. Not knowing (I still don't know what inspired this chaos) why this was happening to me, I curled up in my bed and cried most of the night. The very next day, I packed my things, broke my lease, and began moving out. I will never forgive him for unnecessarily turning my life upside down and I hope with my entire being that somehow karma gets him, and soon.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Week 11: Peer Review
Brandon:
Hey Brandon. Sorry I've been gone for awhile. I'm back though! I was excited to read your posts this week. I really enjoyed "Guest Starring, Richard!" It was really clever and entertaining. I would've liked to know more about your relationship with the interviewee, but the way you set up the post was great. It wasn't like I was reading a straightforward and boring interview. You really brought it to life.
Chelsee:
Hi Chelsee! I know it's been awhile since I've posted anything and I'm sorry. My favorite post of yours this week was the one about the President of the United States. I really loved how you said that even if you don't like the person in office, you respect them because they stepped up and took on the role of being president. I have the same view point on this and found it refreshing for someone to actually say it. Your post about wrapping gifts was also interesting. The only recommendation I have is that you make it less simple. Compared to a lot of your other posts, that one was quick and lacked detail. Keep up the great work though. I can't wait to read more.
Alyssa:
Hey Alyssa! I'm sorry I've been missing for awhile now. I'm back for good and ready to participate in peer review again. My favorite post of yours this week was "Denim Expert." In a short few paragraphs I learned quite a bit about denim. Your neighbor seems pretty knowledgeable on the topic too. I'm not that into fashion, but I didn't fall asleep or even feel bored while reading your post. It was entertaining the way you organized it. I also love how you put little interjections in between the interview paragraphs. I can't wait to read more next week.
Hey Brandon. Sorry I've been gone for awhile. I'm back though! I was excited to read your posts this week. I really enjoyed "Guest Starring, Richard!" It was really clever and entertaining. I would've liked to know more about your relationship with the interviewee, but the way you set up the post was great. It wasn't like I was reading a straightforward and boring interview. You really brought it to life.
Chelsee:
Hi Chelsee! I know it's been awhile since I've posted anything and I'm sorry. My favorite post of yours this week was the one about the President of the United States. I really loved how you said that even if you don't like the person in office, you respect them because they stepped up and took on the role of being president. I have the same view point on this and found it refreshing for someone to actually say it. Your post about wrapping gifts was also interesting. The only recommendation I have is that you make it less simple. Compared to a lot of your other posts, that one was quick and lacked detail. Keep up the great work though. I can't wait to read more.
Alyssa:
Hey Alyssa! I'm sorry I've been missing for awhile now. I'm back for good and ready to participate in peer review again. My favorite post of yours this week was "Denim Expert." In a short few paragraphs I learned quite a bit about denim. Your neighbor seems pretty knowledgeable on the topic too. I'm not that into fashion, but I didn't fall asleep or even feel bored while reading your post. It was entertaining the way you organized it. I also love how you put little interjections in between the interview paragraphs. I can't wait to read more next week.
Sleep Walkers
It was a small group of people. Almost too small to be deserving of the title "group." They all sat around one of the library's many quaint round tables. The lighting was dim; the room was dank and stuffy. The chairs were made of old rust colored canvas material and the wooden legs and arms were worn with carvings from past students' use. Every once in awhile one of them got distracted by the flickering fluorescent and looked up to see if it was in fact the same light bulb that was going out just ten minutes ago. One of the girls was tapping her pencil against the palm of her hand almost in sync with the flickering rhythm of the dying light. None of them seemed annoyed by either.
The group looked oddly similar. Everyone wore the same placid expression on their face. It was the exhaustion. They had probably spent a good portion of their night at that table studying together. It wasn't that they weren't making progress; they just needed to absorb a lot of information. Over the course of an hour, they moved only their lips to talk and their fingers to write and turn book pages. They couldn't go on forever like this. They eventually and mechanically picked up their things and slid them into their bags. Some zipped them up and some didn't. Everyone was too tired to care if they lost pencils and other belongings on the way home. Sluggishly, they slept walked out the door into the warm night.
The group looked oddly similar. Everyone wore the same placid expression on their face. It was the exhaustion. They had probably spent a good portion of their night at that table studying together. It wasn't that they weren't making progress; they just needed to absorb a lot of information. Over the course of an hour, they moved only their lips to talk and their fingers to write and turn book pages. They couldn't go on forever like this. They eventually and mechanically picked up their things and slid them into their bags. Some zipped them up and some didn't. Everyone was too tired to care if they lost pencils and other belongings on the way home. Sluggishly, they slept walked out the door into the warm night.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Magic Moments (Prompt #33)
I'm not socially awkward; I'm just an introvert. I'm not shy; I just prefer not to initiate conversations.
Sometimes life leads us into awkward and uncomfortable situations. Why? Who knows. All I know is that everyone experiences them. It's one of the perks of being human.
Who ever decided that changing your clothes should be mandatory for physical education classes should be beaten and strung up by their ankles until they come to their senses. They must've known that they'd be responsible for daily awkward situations. Let's get one thing straight before I even begin my story. This is my disclaimer: I am in no way, shape, or form an athlete. I'm clumsy and am quite lucky if I make it through an entire day without tripping over something and falling on my face.
Sophomore year. High School. First day of dance class. I walk into the girls locker room where at least thirteen other girls are already seated on the floor waiting for everyone else to show up. I chose a corner in the back where I could sit by myself. The room was definitely old. There were walls and walls of lockers whose paint was chipping and tops were caked in multiple layers of dust. There was an aging brown, leather love seat pushed up against a tall counter-like table. Everything was old, including our teacher, Coach Swift. Her name was pure irony.
After everyone was seated on the cold, cement floor that smelled like bleach, the coach came in. "Okay ladies. Welcome to good 'ol dance class. We're going to head down to the dance room. You'll find uniforms in every size on the counter in the back. Each of you grab a t-shirt and a pair of shorts and hurry to put them on. Yes, you have to. Don't complain or try to get out of it. It's mandatory and part of your grade. Now lets see some hustle!" I was horrified but I seemed to be the only one. I kept my cool and followed the others back to the counter where I grabbed a white cotton shirt and some black gym shorts. I waked back to my corner.
Girls were getting naked left and right. I have nothing wrong with the human body. I guess I just didn't feel comfortable seeing my classmates in their underwear and vice versa. I didn't want to join them. It must've been obvious that felt uncomfortable. " Be careful. Some of the girls like to play grab ass as soon as you take your pants off." I turned around, face flushed, to see a girl in her jeans and bra. " Hey. I'm Brittany and that was a joke... Jesus! Look at your face! I didn't meant to embarrass you. Listen, just between you and me, there's a restroom right around the corner. Why don't you go change in one of the stalls?" I looked at her and said, "Thanks, but I'm okay. This is really no big deal" and with that lie, I reluctantly began to take my clothes off. Brittany shrugged and put her gym shirt on. I had successfully managed to change my pants while she was putting her shirt on. Next came my shirt. As I went to lift my shirt over my head, I elbowed Brittany in the boob. "Ow!" I heard as my head came out of the shirt. She was looking at me while she folded her arms across her chest in defense. "Oh. My. Gosh." I said. " I am so sorry. I swear I didn't mean to. I mean I'm not like that. I wasn't trying to cop a feel or anything." She just continued watching me in silence. " I'm not saying that I have anything against girls who are like that. Oh wow. I'm just going to stop talking now. I am really sorry though." We just stood there in awkward silence. Brittany started laughing. It was still awkward for me. What was I supposed to do? Laugh with her? No. That could just do more damage. I chose to stick with the vow of silence. "You're a dork! In just three minutes of meeting you, I've learned that you like to grope girls and you're not a lesbian. We're off to a great start. Let's head to the dance room, shall we?"
Sometimes life leads us into awkward and uncomfortable situations. Why? Who knows. All I know is that everyone experiences them. It's one of the perks of being human.
Who ever decided that changing your clothes should be mandatory for physical education classes should be beaten and strung up by their ankles until they come to their senses. They must've known that they'd be responsible for daily awkward situations. Let's get one thing straight before I even begin my story. This is my disclaimer: I am in no way, shape, or form an athlete. I'm clumsy and am quite lucky if I make it through an entire day without tripping over something and falling on my face.
Sophomore year. High School. First day of dance class. I walk into the girls locker room where at least thirteen other girls are already seated on the floor waiting for everyone else to show up. I chose a corner in the back where I could sit by myself. The room was definitely old. There were walls and walls of lockers whose paint was chipping and tops were caked in multiple layers of dust. There was an aging brown, leather love seat pushed up against a tall counter-like table. Everything was old, including our teacher, Coach Swift. Her name was pure irony.
After everyone was seated on the cold, cement floor that smelled like bleach, the coach came in. "Okay ladies. Welcome to good 'ol dance class. We're going to head down to the dance room. You'll find uniforms in every size on the counter in the back. Each of you grab a t-shirt and a pair of shorts and hurry to put them on. Yes, you have to. Don't complain or try to get out of it. It's mandatory and part of your grade. Now lets see some hustle!" I was horrified but I seemed to be the only one. I kept my cool and followed the others back to the counter where I grabbed a white cotton shirt and some black gym shorts. I waked back to my corner.
Girls were getting naked left and right. I have nothing wrong with the human body. I guess I just didn't feel comfortable seeing my classmates in their underwear and vice versa. I didn't want to join them. It must've been obvious that felt uncomfortable. " Be careful. Some of the girls like to play grab ass as soon as you take your pants off." I turned around, face flushed, to see a girl in her jeans and bra. " Hey. I'm Brittany and that was a joke... Jesus! Look at your face! I didn't meant to embarrass you. Listen, just between you and me, there's a restroom right around the corner. Why don't you go change in one of the stalls?" I looked at her and said, "Thanks, but I'm okay. This is really no big deal" and with that lie, I reluctantly began to take my clothes off. Brittany shrugged and put her gym shirt on. I had successfully managed to change my pants while she was putting her shirt on. Next came my shirt. As I went to lift my shirt over my head, I elbowed Brittany in the boob. "Ow!" I heard as my head came out of the shirt. She was looking at me while she folded her arms across her chest in defense. "Oh. My. Gosh." I said. " I am so sorry. I swear I didn't mean to. I mean I'm not like that. I wasn't trying to cop a feel or anything." She just continued watching me in silence. " I'm not saying that I have anything against girls who are like that. Oh wow. I'm just going to stop talking now. I am really sorry though." We just stood there in awkward silence. Brittany started laughing. It was still awkward for me. What was I supposed to do? Laugh with her? No. That could just do more damage. I chose to stick with the vow of silence. "You're a dork! In just three minutes of meeting you, I've learned that you like to grope girls and you're not a lesbian. We're off to a great start. Let's head to the dance room, shall we?"
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
To Be or Not to Be? (Prompt #29)
First Person:
I looked at them from across the room. "Why couldn't I be like that?" I sometimes asked myself. Maybe it was because my family wasn't wealthy. That couldn't be it. Our school was in Apache Junction and many of their families weren't any better off than mine. It wasn't that I was some sort of outcast without friends; I just wasn't popular. That group of kids sitting on the other side of my math class, clustered together, always seemed like they were having such a great time. I wanted to have a great time in math class...
I watched that same group of kids almost everyday. No, I wasn't some kind of obsessed stalker. I wanted to be one of them. I wanted to be part of their inseparable click. What drew them together? Looking at them from my seat in the corner I could see that though they all looked very different, they acted very much the same. They all had similar laughs and mannerisms. They used the same slang and improper grammar when the spoke (and probably when they wrote too). And though I did find all of this quite annoying, I still wished to be a part of it, if even just for a day. I wanted to be popular.
Third Person:
It wasn't that she wasn't likable. She just wasn't one of them. She cared too much about things that didn't even matter to most high school students. She was in three different choir classes and spent her free time in after-school clubs. Though they didn't know her personally, they knew about her and people like her. She was wound too tight to have fun with them and she'd be one of those narks who would leave or go find an adult at the first sight of alcohol, drugs, or maybe even cigarettes. Taliena may have been a fun person to spend time with according to her own friends' standards, but definitely not to the popular kids'. She was too different to be part of the popular crowd. It would never happen. It was for the best though. Nerds shouldn't be popular too. It would upset the natural balance of things.
I looked at them from across the room. "Why couldn't I be like that?" I sometimes asked myself. Maybe it was because my family wasn't wealthy. That couldn't be it. Our school was in Apache Junction and many of their families weren't any better off than mine. It wasn't that I was some sort of outcast without friends; I just wasn't popular. That group of kids sitting on the other side of my math class, clustered together, always seemed like they were having such a great time. I wanted to have a great time in math class...
I watched that same group of kids almost everyday. No, I wasn't some kind of obsessed stalker. I wanted to be one of them. I wanted to be part of their inseparable click. What drew them together? Looking at them from my seat in the corner I could see that though they all looked very different, they acted very much the same. They all had similar laughs and mannerisms. They used the same slang and improper grammar when the spoke (and probably when they wrote too). And though I did find all of this quite annoying, I still wished to be a part of it, if even just for a day. I wanted to be popular.
Third Person:
It wasn't that she wasn't likable. She just wasn't one of them. She cared too much about things that didn't even matter to most high school students. She was in three different choir classes and spent her free time in after-school clubs. Though they didn't know her personally, they knew about her and people like her. She was wound too tight to have fun with them and she'd be one of those narks who would leave or go find an adult at the first sight of alcohol, drugs, or maybe even cigarettes. Taliena may have been a fun person to spend time with according to her own friends' standards, but definitely not to the popular kids'. She was too different to be part of the popular crowd. It would never happen. It was for the best though. Nerds shouldn't be popular too. It would upset the natural balance of things.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Week 10: Peer Review
Brandon:
Brandon, Week 8's posts were really different, but definitely in a good and interesting way. The topics were all very diverse and I didn't get bored while reading once. My favorite of the three was "Dialogue: What's Your Name Again?" It brought me back to when choosing my favorite Pokemon was my biggest worry. It was really entertaining. The only suggestion I have is maybe cutting out or revising some of the things you put in your writing. I know you're writing non-fiction and we're all grown-ups in college, but I just feel like somethings aren't as appropriate as others. Besides that though, just keep up the awesome work!
Chelsee:
Hey Chelsee! Your Week 8 posts were really very interesting. I felt that I really got to know more about you. The only suggestions I have for you this week are: add more to the length and maybe try using more dialogue . I especially enjoyed your post about your grandfather and my suggestions are aimed mainly toward it. Because the post was about someone so dear to you, it would've been nice to read more. All in all, great work!
Alyssa:
Hello there! I just want to start your peer review off by saying that I love your blog. I haven't read a post yet that I haven't absolutely loved. With that said, your post for prompt #25 was my favorite of the three. I think this is because I found so easy to relate to. I have been in an eerily similar situation and your post brought back memories. The only suggestion I have is for post #27. When you give your readers a list of what you're going to write about, make sure you give them just that. I knew it was all there but I felt like I had to go looking for it. I can't wait to read more next week!
Brandon, Week 8's posts were really different, but definitely in a good and interesting way. The topics were all very diverse and I didn't get bored while reading once. My favorite of the three was "Dialogue: What's Your Name Again?" It brought me back to when choosing my favorite Pokemon was my biggest worry. It was really entertaining. The only suggestion I have is maybe cutting out or revising some of the things you put in your writing. I know you're writing non-fiction and we're all grown-ups in college, but I just feel like somethings aren't as appropriate as others. Besides that though, just keep up the awesome work!
Chelsee:
Hey Chelsee! Your Week 8 posts were really very interesting. I felt that I really got to know more about you. The only suggestions I have for you this week are: add more to the length and maybe try using more dialogue . I especially enjoyed your post about your grandfather and my suggestions are aimed mainly toward it. Because the post was about someone so dear to you, it would've been nice to read more. All in all, great work!
Alyssa:
Hello there! I just want to start your peer review off by saying that I love your blog. I haven't read a post yet that I haven't absolutely loved. With that said, your post for prompt #25 was my favorite of the three. I think this is because I found so easy to relate to. I have been in an eerily similar situation and your post brought back memories. The only suggestion I have is for post #27. When you give your readers a list of what you're going to write about, make sure you give them just that. I knew it was all there but I felt like I had to go looking for it. I can't wait to read more next week!
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Week 8 Peer Review
Brandon:
Hello Brandon. I really enjoyed reading your post this week. It gave me some insight to what happened in Tuscon and the speech that took place afterward. I really appreciated your attention to detail and how you gave us (the readers) some background info on the shooting before you went into the description of the president's speech. I look forward to reading your posts for the rest of this semester. Keep up the great work!
Chelsee:
Hey Chelsee. Let me just start off by saying that I found both of your posts for this week to be very insightful and entertaining. Your first post was really great and though it was four paragraphs long, I felt like I needed more. I wanted to know more about what you were working for. Why did you want a job at the age of 15? Was it difficult juggling school and your new job? Your second post was quite informative. I really didn't know much, if anything, about the bookstore being sold. I'm glad you chose to write about this. I can't wait to read your posts next week!
Alyssa:
Hello there, Alyssa! Your posts this week were great! I really think I'm going to enjoy reading your writing for the remainder of the semester. Your first post about responsibility was honest and refreshingly open. I appreciated your ability to talk to your readers and tell them about yourself and your life without sugarcoating anything. Your second post of the week had just the right amount of description. I could see the bar just as you described it and wished I could go see it for myself in person. You have the amazing ability to know just how much description is enough. Not too little that readers don't know what you're talking about, but not too much that there's no room for a little imagination. Great work! I can't wait for the weeks to come.
Hello Brandon. I really enjoyed reading your post this week. It gave me some insight to what happened in Tuscon and the speech that took place afterward. I really appreciated your attention to detail and how you gave us (the readers) some background info on the shooting before you went into the description of the president's speech. I look forward to reading your posts for the rest of this semester. Keep up the great work!
Chelsee:
Hey Chelsee. Let me just start off by saying that I found both of your posts for this week to be very insightful and entertaining. Your first post was really great and though it was four paragraphs long, I felt like I needed more. I wanted to know more about what you were working for. Why did you want a job at the age of 15? Was it difficult juggling school and your new job? Your second post was quite informative. I really didn't know much, if anything, about the bookstore being sold. I'm glad you chose to write about this. I can't wait to read your posts next week!
Alyssa:
Hello there, Alyssa! Your posts this week were great! I really think I'm going to enjoy reading your writing for the remainder of the semester. Your first post about responsibility was honest and refreshingly open. I appreciated your ability to talk to your readers and tell them about yourself and your life without sugarcoating anything. Your second post of the week had just the right amount of description. I could see the bar just as you described it and wished I could go see it for myself in person. You have the amazing ability to know just how much description is enough. Not too little that readers don't know what you're talking about, but not too much that there's no room for a little imagination. Great work! I can't wait for the weeks to come.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
NAU Lecture Hall
The lecture hall is huge. There is no light but the few florescent rays streaming down slowly, diminished from the dank and dusty vaulted ceilings. There are about 300 to 400 students all from various grades spread throughout the enormous classroom. It smells of old books that haven't been opened in decades and a mixture of colognes that attempt to mask some of the students' "study parties" from the night before.
From the eighth row up, I can hardly see the the teacher's aid and the professor, let alone what they choose to be pertinent information that goes up on the white board with a dying white-erase marker. I try to sit alone, that is two to three empty seats in every direction of myself and it appears that most everyone who doesn't have a friend with them tries to do the same. Who knows why. Maybe we don't want to talk to each other or maybe we just find strangers distracting while trying to decipher what's being discussed and written in the front. On several occasions, a couple brave souls have sat by me. We don't talk. We don't even look at each other. It's the definition of an awkward moment, except for it lasts 50 minutes and not a singular moment.
Luckily, I find the history of the English language to be interesting. I find it interesting enough to read the textbook after class on my own time. I do this because even though I strain to obtain information in the lecture hall, sometimes all of my hard effort isn't enough and I hardly get anything out of it. I can't be the only person with this problem. The professor is at least 70 years old and his T.A. can't be older than 22 years old. Together, the old age and nervousness make the lectures long, quiet, and shaky. We blame the lecture hall. It's old and outdated. The extent of the technology in the room consists of a newish projector and small laser pointer for the board. The class would be so much better with a microphone and new projector that links the computer to the projector, like all of the new smaller lecture halls have. Until the classroom and the teachers are remodeled, we'll just have to continue to limp along and struggle to learn something.
Luckily, I find the history of the English language to be interesting. I find it interesting enough to read the textbook after class on my own time. I do this because even though I strain to obtain information in the lecture hall, sometimes all of my hard effort isn't enough and I hardly get anything out of it. I can't be the only person with this problem. The professor is at least 70 years old and his T.A. can't be older than 22 years old. Together, the old age and nervousness make the lectures long, quiet, and shaky. We blame the lecture hall. It's old and outdated. The extent of the technology in the room consists of a newish projector and small laser pointer for the board. The class would be so much better with a microphone and new projector that links the computer to the projector, like all of the new smaller lecture halls have. Until the classroom and the teachers are remodeled, we'll just have to continue to limp along and struggle to learn something.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
A Family Divided (Prompt #20)
When I was six years old, my parents got a divorce. My two younger sisters, ages 4 and 1 at the time, didn't understand the concept. To be completely honest, I'm not quite sure I grasped the entire concept myself, but if I didn't understand then, it didn't take me long to figure the rest out. Soon after the paperwork was done and the assets divided, my mom moved my sisters and I about five hours north of our father, five hours north of our home. Looking back now, I don't blame her for trying to get away but back then we were all angry. My sisters and I didn't see our dad for the next two years. We didn't know why and my youngest sister soon forgot about him altogether. My mother worked a full-time job and a part-time job on the weekends just to keep our household going. Things were rough. I do remember that much.
When I turned eight, I was handed more responsibility. I was happy to help my mother in any way I could at this point. I had learned that we moved because she thought it was the best situation for my sisters and me and I assumed that we hadn't heard from dad because he chose not to contact us, not because our mom prevented it. I was given the responsibility of watching my two younger sisters. Now, you might think it inappropriate for an eight year old child to be babysitting a six year old and a three year old, but she was desperate and I was responsible. After school, Kanisha (my sister closest in age to me) and I would ride the bus to our apartment and my mother would pick up Tylissa (my youngest sister) from daycare during her lunch break and bring her to us. I would make sure Kanisha did her homework. We would do chores together and make sure Tylissa was kept out of trouble. Over time, I learned to cook and made dinner for everyone. I grew up fast, but I'm not complaining. We all do what we have to when the pressure is on. I would do anything for my mom. Taking on the responsibility of keeping our household together at the age of eight has helped me become the strong and responsible person that I am today.
When I turned eight, I was handed more responsibility. I was happy to help my mother in any way I could at this point. I had learned that we moved because she thought it was the best situation for my sisters and me and I assumed that we hadn't heard from dad because he chose not to contact us, not because our mom prevented it. I was given the responsibility of watching my two younger sisters. Now, you might think it inappropriate for an eight year old child to be babysitting a six year old and a three year old, but she was desperate and I was responsible. After school, Kanisha (my sister closest in age to me) and I would ride the bus to our apartment and my mother would pick up Tylissa (my youngest sister) from daycare during her lunch break and bring her to us. I would make sure Kanisha did her homework. We would do chores together and make sure Tylissa was kept out of trouble. Over time, I learned to cook and made dinner for everyone. I grew up fast, but I'm not complaining. We all do what we have to when the pressure is on. I would do anything for my mom. Taking on the responsibility of keeping our household together at the age of eight has helped me become the strong and responsible person that I am today.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Week 6: Peer Review
Rebecca:
Hey Rebecca! Your posts this week were great. I honestly loved both of them. "The American Dream" did something amazing for me. It made me realize how different people can interpret writing prompt, because though your post was so different from my own, completely fulfills the prompt requirements. For your second post of the week, "Condensing a Crash," I would like to first tell you that I am so very sorry that you had to go through something so traumatic. This piece was really great though. To be perfectly honest, I could picture the entire accident and by you giving readers the emotions you went through, it just helped the piece feel that much more real. Thank you for being so open and real with this one. Keep up the amazing work!
Kayla:
Hello again! Let me start off by saying that I really enjoyed your post for prompt 15 and can clearly see why it was listed in this week's "greatest hits." I loved how you made something that seems so mundane to adults suddenly important. It really took me back to being little again. You were successful in making the piece seem as dramatic as it felt to you when it actually happened by calling the little boy "devil child," "the culprit," and my favorite the "car-drawing, prison daddy's little boy." Basically, it was a great piece and I appreciated your great attention to detail. I know my opinion doesn't count, but I hope you consider this piece for your paper. Great work this week!
Hey Rebecca! Your posts this week were great. I honestly loved both of them. "The American Dream" did something amazing for me. It made me realize how different people can interpret writing prompt, because though your post was so different from my own, completely fulfills the prompt requirements. For your second post of the week, "Condensing a Crash," I would like to first tell you that I am so very sorry that you had to go through something so traumatic. This piece was really great though. To be perfectly honest, I could picture the entire accident and by you giving readers the emotions you went through, it just helped the piece feel that much more real. Thank you for being so open and real with this one. Keep up the amazing work!
Kayla:
Hello again! Let me start off by saying that I really enjoyed your post for prompt 15 and can clearly see why it was listed in this week's "greatest hits." I loved how you made something that seems so mundane to adults suddenly important. It really took me back to being little again. You were successful in making the piece seem as dramatic as it felt to you when it actually happened by calling the little boy "devil child," "the culprit," and my favorite the "car-drawing, prison daddy's little boy." Basically, it was a great piece and I appreciated your great attention to detail. I know my opinion doesn't count, but I hope you consider this piece for your paper. Great work this week!
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Hemophobia (Prompt 15)
The sight of blood makes me squeamish. It doesn't matter who the blood belongs to or why I'm looking at it either. The last time I had blood work done I passed out, and at work a couple of weeks ago, I was nauseated at the sight of a co-worker's bloody nose. With this information it should come as no surprise that massive amounts of blood really unnerve me. Oh who am I kidding? Massive amounts freak me out. All of this is important because one particular day in my life will forever be ingrained in my mind.
It was a very sunny day in mid-August. My good friend and I were on a mini-road trip to Lake Powell. We had the air conditioning on "max" and the radio turned almost all the way up. About three hours into the drive, we entered construction. The long winding roads were deceiving and snake-like. There were moments where we didn't move at all.
The construction zone eventually ended. I was beyond hot and definitely sweaty when we actually began to reach speeds over 50 mph. I looked over at my friend (who was driving) and said, "Step on it, sister! I want to get there sometime before it gets dark! Please and thanks." We laughed, but it seemed as though everyone we had just been stuck with had the exact same idea. It wasn't long before we were traveling at 80 mph. I remember glancing out my window then, and seeing clouds moving in. I slowly put my seatbelt on.
We were about 45 minutes away from the lake. The cars in front of us all slammed on their breaks. Some swerved. I screamed and attempted to secure myself by clutching the window next to me. We were fine. We all got out of our vehicles assessing every one's well-being when we saw smoke. Three of the men from cars in front told us to stay put while they went to figure out where it was coming from. I'm not sure if I was still in shock from the near-death experience or if I simply didn't listen, but I followed them to the scene of a horrific car accident. To this day I still don't know how that minivan ended up upside down in a ditch. I pulled out my phone and dialed "911" with a couple of other people. I gave the operator as much information as possible as calmly as I could. I then hung up and watched as the men tried to find out if people were trapped inside. There were.
When the police and paramedics arrived bodies were pulled out of the van, not people. Every single passenger (there were four total) inside had died and all of their lifeless bodies were covered in blood. My friend and I watched as each was checked once more for a pulse then put in a bag and onto a stretcher. I felt sick. I ran to the opposite side of the road and vomited. My friend came to hold my hair as I sobbed and puked. There was so much blood...
It was a very sunny day in mid-August. My good friend and I were on a mini-road trip to Lake Powell. We had the air conditioning on "max" and the radio turned almost all the way up. About three hours into the drive, we entered construction. The long winding roads were deceiving and snake-like. There were moments where we didn't move at all.
The construction zone eventually ended. I was beyond hot and definitely sweaty when we actually began to reach speeds over 50 mph. I looked over at my friend (who was driving) and said, "Step on it, sister! I want to get there sometime before it gets dark! Please and thanks." We laughed, but it seemed as though everyone we had just been stuck with had the exact same idea. It wasn't long before we were traveling at 80 mph. I remember glancing out my window then, and seeing clouds moving in. I slowly put my seatbelt on.
We were about 45 minutes away from the lake. The cars in front of us all slammed on their breaks. Some swerved. I screamed and attempted to secure myself by clutching the window next to me. We were fine. We all got out of our vehicles assessing every one's well-being when we saw smoke. Three of the men from cars in front told us to stay put while they went to figure out where it was coming from. I'm not sure if I was still in shock from the near-death experience or if I simply didn't listen, but I followed them to the scene of a horrific car accident. To this day I still don't know how that minivan ended up upside down in a ditch. I pulled out my phone and dialed "911" with a couple of other people. I gave the operator as much information as possible as calmly as I could. I then hung up and watched as the men tried to find out if people were trapped inside. There were.
When the police and paramedics arrived bodies were pulled out of the van, not people. Every single passenger (there were four total) inside had died and all of their lifeless bodies were covered in blood. My friend and I watched as each was checked once more for a pulse then put in a bag and onto a stretcher. I felt sick. I ran to the opposite side of the road and vomited. My friend came to hold my hair as I sobbed and puked. There was so much blood...
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
No seconds, please! (Prompt 14)
Tuna Casserole
"Why are we here?" I always used to ask my mother. It didn't matter where we were; I felt like I always needed a legitimate excuse as to why I was where I was. My mother always answered with the same flat "because." The most common place I remember asking this question was at church for "gatherings." Though there was always food, I hardly ever ate and I never found my legitimate reason for being forced to be there. Wasn't Sunday service enough?
Green Bean Casserole
Every one of these "gatherings" seemed to revolve around food. Too bad they didn't actually revolve around good food. It seemed to me that everything those women made came in a decorative glass casserole dish with some kind of cute made-up name that was supposed to make you actually want to at the very least try it.
Chicken Pot Pie
I learned my lesson. When I was about eight years old I went to a church potluck with my mom. Going down the table full of lumpy casseroles, my plate was quickly overflowing with the oddest looking combination of so-called food. My mother made me try at least every dish on my plate. Needless to say, that was the last time I wanted to attend a church "gathering."
Jello Salad
As I got older and attended more of these unnecessary congregations I learned to only take a minimal amount of food and to try not to make contact with one of the ladies with a severing spoon standing behind the tables. Since I've moved out and on my own, I can happily say that I haven't gone to a single church "gathering" and I don't plan on going to one anytime soon.
"Why are we here?" I always used to ask my mother. It didn't matter where we were; I felt like I always needed a legitimate excuse as to why I was where I was. My mother always answered with the same flat "because." The most common place I remember asking this question was at church for "gatherings." Though there was always food, I hardly ever ate and I never found my legitimate reason for being forced to be there. Wasn't Sunday service enough?
Green Bean Casserole
Every one of these "gatherings" seemed to revolve around food. Too bad they didn't actually revolve around good food. It seemed to me that everything those women made came in a decorative glass casserole dish with some kind of cute made-up name that was supposed to make you actually want to at the very least try it.
Chicken Pot Pie
I learned my lesson. When I was about eight years old I went to a church potluck with my mom. Going down the table full of lumpy casseroles, my plate was quickly overflowing with the oddest looking combination of so-called food. My mother made me try at least every dish on my plate. Needless to say, that was the last time I wanted to attend a church "gathering."
Jello Salad
As I got older and attended more of these unnecessary congregations I learned to only take a minimal amount of food and to try not to make contact with one of the ladies with a severing spoon standing behind the tables. Since I've moved out and on my own, I can happily say that I haven't gone to a single church "gathering" and I don't plan on going to one anytime soon.
Week 5: Peer Review
Rebecca:
Rebecca, this week I really enjoyed your post for prompt eleven. It was a great little piece that gave just enough information and detail for readers to get a feel for your personality. The only thing I would've liked to see was more. I would've liked to have read about what else happened on your vacation. I mean, if you can make simply eating outside a bakery interesting and entertaining to read, I can only imagine where you could've gone with this piece.
Kayla:
Hey Kayla! Your posts for this week were really interesting and I thoroughly enjoyed reading both of them. My favorite was " Rush Hour." I really loved the sarcastic tone because I could relate to the situation and appreciate the sense of humor. In other words, I found the piece to be very entertaining. In your other post, " Less than forever away," I thought it was interesting how you chose to use paragraph headings. I felt that if the paragraphs had been a bit lengthier this technique would've been more effective in guiding your readers. All in all though, I really enjoyed your pieces this week. Keep up the great work!
Rebecca, this week I really enjoyed your post for prompt eleven. It was a great little piece that gave just enough information and detail for readers to get a feel for your personality. The only thing I would've liked to see was more. I would've liked to have read about what else happened on your vacation. I mean, if you can make simply eating outside a bakery interesting and entertaining to read, I can only imagine where you could've gone with this piece.
Kayla:
Hey Kayla! Your posts for this week were really interesting and I thoroughly enjoyed reading both of them. My favorite was " Rush Hour." I really loved the sarcastic tone because I could relate to the situation and appreciate the sense of humor. In other words, I found the piece to be very entertaining. In your other post, " Less than forever away," I thought it was interesting how you chose to use paragraph headings. I felt that if the paragraphs had been a bit lengthier this technique would've been more effective in guiding your readers. All in all though, I really enjoyed your pieces this week. Keep up the great work!
Thursday, February 10, 2011
We'll Never Know...(Prompt 13)
Corina was afraid. How could she not be? She was sitting in the middle of the Blandford Cemetery with her dog, Cuddles, and her two best friends, Kate and Julia. To make matters worse, it was her own fault they were all stuck there. Earlier that same day, Jared Owens, the fifth grade class bully of Carver Elementary School said he would leave Corina and her two friends alone for the rest of the school year if they would accept and complete a challenge. Not wanting to look like a chicken and desperately wanting Jared to leave her and her friends alone, Corina accepted. It was until she heard what it was that she wished she hadn't got to school that day. Jared informed Corina, her two best friends, and the rest of the kids on the playground that if the three girls could successfully spend four whole hours in the Blandford Cemetary that he would leave them alone.
At ten o'clock sharp, Corina, Kate, and Julia snuck out of their houses and met Jared at the cemetery entrance with their sleeping bags and Corina's shih-tzu, Cuddles ( a small guard dog is better than no guard dog). Jared told them that he would wait until two o'clock (or sooner if they were too afraid to stay the whole time). And with that, he directed the girls to the iron cemetery gate.
The cold night air whipped past the girls as they looked for an acceptable place to wait out the next four dreaded hours. Cemeteries are creepy in general, but the brisk breeze made the hairs on their necks stand straight up and Cuddles stopped dead in his tracks to whimper. Deciding that going any further into the cemetery would be too scary and much too difficult to escape should a zombie apocalypse begin, they spread their sleeping bags around a very plain but clean-looking headstone. Kate read the details aloud, " May you rest in peace. Here lies Bill Eustice, a loving son, father, and husband. Born 1942. Died 2003." As she finished reading the last date, the wind picked up again and the trees began to sway. Kate and Julia grabbed Cuddles and jumped into the same sleeping bag (he was named Cuddles for a reason, of course). Corina, though terrified and wanting very much to join her friends and dog, restrained herself and put her brave face on. She had to make it through the night and reassure her friends that everything was fine since it was her fault that they were all hanging out together in the middle of the town cemetery, after all.
The next few hours crept by slowly. Kate, Julia, and Cuddles clung to one another shaking. Corina sat shaking, alone in her won bag and tired to keep everyone's minds off the fact that they were surrounded by dead bodies and were sitting directly six feet above one specifically, by singing old girls' camp songs Her friends didn't join in at first but couldn't help themselves after the second or third song. Their favorite was "Bazooka Bubblegum." They sang it a couple of times all the way through and then they laughed and began reminiscing and sharing camp stories. All of the sudden the wind stopped and the girls heard "...I bought some bubblegum. Bazooka-zooka bubblegum..."
Not attempting to figure out where the almost inaudible voice sing their favorite song was coming from, they immediately jumped up, grabbed their blankets and Cuddles, and ran screaming for the gate. Jared was slumped outside of the cemetery against the brick wall when they finally reached the outside. Catching their breaths, they took turns telling him what had just happened. Jared tried not to look terrified and told them that though he didn't believe them, a deal was a deal. They had made it to two o'clock and would no longer have to endure his bullying for the rest of the school year. And with that, he high-tailed it home...
At ten o'clock sharp, Corina, Kate, and Julia snuck out of their houses and met Jared at the cemetery entrance with their sleeping bags and Corina's shih-tzu, Cuddles ( a small guard dog is better than no guard dog). Jared told them that he would wait until two o'clock (or sooner if they were too afraid to stay the whole time). And with that, he directed the girls to the iron cemetery gate.
The next few hours crept by slowly. Kate, Julia, and Cuddles clung to one another shaking. Corina sat shaking, alone in her won bag and tired to keep everyone's minds off the fact that they were surrounded by dead bodies and were sitting directly six feet above one specifically, by singing old girls' camp songs Her friends didn't join in at first but couldn't help themselves after the second or third song. Their favorite was "Bazooka Bubblegum." They sang it a couple of times all the way through and then they laughed and began reminiscing and sharing camp stories. All of the sudden the wind stopped and the girls heard "...I bought some bubblegum. Bazooka-zooka bubblegum..."
Not attempting to figure out where the almost inaudible voice sing their favorite song was coming from, they immediately jumped up, grabbed their blankets and Cuddles, and ran screaming for the gate. Jared was slumped outside of the cemetery against the brick wall when they finally reached the outside. Catching their breaths, they took turns telling him what had just happened. Jared tried not to look terrified and told them that though he didn't believe them, a deal was a deal. They had made it to two o'clock and would no longer have to endure his bullying for the rest of the school year. And with that, he high-tailed it home...
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
My Trip...Never Taken (Prompt #11)
The glistening reflection of the sun warmed my bare skin almost immediately. The cool breeze was a refreshing contrast and I could taste the salt from the ocean in my mouth. It was strange to think I'd be here alone for the next couple of days and that I didn't tell a soul where I was going.
It was enjoyable and even comfortable being alone and worry-free (well, almost worry-free) for once. Time to reflect and take in the beauty of life and my surroundings is just what I felt I needed. Because I felt like the trip was supposed to be all about finding myself and being "alone" for the first time in my entire life, I decided that no one would accompany me and I would tell no one where I was going.
Upon arriving in California (not exotic or very far away from home, I know), I checked into my hotel and settled myself in my less than spectacular room with a more than spectacular view. From my small window on the second floor, I could see the beach and the most picturesque little aging pier. I wanted to jump out the window, straight into the beautiful water down below.
The next few days of my mini-vacation consisted of only wearing shoes when absolutely necessary, eating enough food for at least five other people, cleaning sand out of every nook and cranny of my body, and caring about nothing but myself. I would have never come back to reality given the option.
My week in my own little paradise passed by quickly. On my very last day I took a walk on the beach. I wanted to feel the sand between my toes and feel the gentle, warm ocean breeze once more before returning to the land-locked desert that I call home. Though I didn't do any sightseeing or tourist-like activities, I felt like I had gained more than I had set out to. It was a valuable experience that I knew I wouldn't trade for the world.
It was enjoyable and even comfortable being alone and worry-free (well, almost worry-free) for once. Time to reflect and take in the beauty of life and my surroundings is just what I felt I needed. Because I felt like the trip was supposed to be all about finding myself and being "alone" for the first time in my entire life, I decided that no one would accompany me and I would tell no one where I was going.
Upon arriving in California (not exotic or very far away from home, I know), I checked into my hotel and settled myself in my less than spectacular room with a more than spectacular view. From my small window on the second floor, I could see the beach and the most picturesque little aging pier. I wanted to jump out the window, straight into the beautiful water down below.
The next few days of my mini-vacation consisted of only wearing shoes when absolutely necessary, eating enough food for at least five other people, cleaning sand out of every nook and cranny of my body, and caring about nothing but myself. I would have never come back to reality given the option.
My week in my own little paradise passed by quickly. On my very last day I took a walk on the beach. I wanted to feel the sand between my toes and feel the gentle, warm ocean breeze once more before returning to the land-locked desert that I call home. Though I didn't do any sightseeing or tourist-like activities, I felt like I had gained more than I had set out to. It was a valuable experience that I knew I wouldn't trade for the world.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
The Autobiography of (Anne Boleyn)?
As I sat in my chamber waiting for my inevitable fate, a wave of numbness and quiet came over me. I had been locked in the tower for an uncountable number of days, for I had lost all track of real time and the days began to blur together. I had been accused of the unimaginable and was to be executed at nine o'clock. My silent and thoughtful state was interrupted when my chamber door was opened and the gaunt prison guard strode in. He looked straight past me as if he were addressing a ghost and said, " I'm sorry m' lady, but the executioner has been delayed in his travels and has not arrived yet. The King has moved your beheading to twelve o'clock sharp instead." With the completion of these words, he briskly turned around and marched out. "This can't be happening," I whispered and turned to slink back into my chair.
It wasn't that I wished to die; for every instant that passed I wished the King would show mercy and send me to a nunnery instead. No, it was that I had fully prepared myself for entry into God's eternal kingdom. I had done nothing wrong, nothing to deserve my sentence, but there was nothing I or anyone else could do once the King's mind was made on the matter.
More time passed and when the hour of my demise grew nearer my chambermaids assisted me in putting my finest and most cherished jewels on, along with my shoes and cloak. There was a quick and subtle knock on the large, dull door before it opened. The prison guard entered once more with a sullen look on his face. "Follow me, m' lady" he announced. It took every ounce of courage and self-restraint I had in me not to sob at this point. I lifted my skirts off the dusty ground and sullenly obliged. I followed the sorrowful man down the dank corridors. My sobbing chambermaids followed myself. I was on my way to my own execution, a wrongful sentence based on false allegations.
It wasn't that I wished to die; for every instant that passed I wished the King would show mercy and send me to a nunnery instead. No, it was that I had fully prepared myself for entry into God's eternal kingdom. I had done nothing wrong, nothing to deserve my sentence, but there was nothing I or anyone else could do once the King's mind was made on the matter.
More time passed and when the hour of my demise grew nearer my chambermaids assisted me in putting my finest and most cherished jewels on, along with my shoes and cloak. There was a quick and subtle knock on the large, dull door before it opened. The prison guard entered once more with a sullen look on his face. "Follow me, m' lady" he announced. It took every ounce of courage and self-restraint I had in me not to sob at this point. I lifted my skirts off the dusty ground and sullenly obliged. I followed the sorrowful man down the dank corridors. My sobbing chambermaids followed myself. I was on my way to my own execution, a wrongful sentence based on false allegations.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Week 2: Peer Review
Kayla: I really enjoyed your posts this week. They were all so full of details. I especially enjoyed the post, "Describing an Individual" because by the time I finished reading it, I felt as though I had a pretty good understanding of your best friend's personality and her admirable qualities. She sounds like a pretty great person to have in your life. Though you had a great use of detail, I'd like to recommend that you try varying types of sensory details. Sight and sounds are the most common details used in all writing, but if you could include descriptions of how things smell, feel, and taste I think you'd have some really great posts. Also, for you your "Mini Memoir" post, I got a general feeling for who you are but by the end I wanted to know more. All I'm trying to say is that if you have to write about yourself, don't be afraid to bare all and be candid.
Rebecca:The first thing I wrote down after reading all of your posts for the week was that I thoroughly enjoyed your humorous tone. I felt that just through that I was able to learn a little about you and your personality. It makes for some great voice. I also really wanted to tell you that your descriptive pieces make me feel present as if I were actually there with you or if those were, in fact my own memories. For your "Sugar and Cinnamon" post, I would've liked to have read more of a description of the kitchen like the prompt called for, though I did enjoy reading about the doughnuts. Lastly, I would really just keep an eye out for changing tenses. I caught it several times in different posts of yours. It isn't a gigantic problem, but it has the potential to confuse your readers.
Amanda:The very first thing I noticed about your posts was that they are jam-packed with information. Every one of them is overflowing with facts and clear memories; it really shows your attention to detail. Your posts also have great voice and convey that you are passionate about your life and set goals. In other words, your personality really shines through your writing. For next weeks' posts, I would recommend that you try dividing them into paragraphs. I feel like it would help define new ideas and thoughts, thus making your writing clearer. Also, I feel that maybe organizing your thoughts before you write may be a good technique to try. It would help you figure out where new paragraphs and subjects should start.
Rebecca:The first thing I wrote down after reading all of your posts for the week was that I thoroughly enjoyed your humorous tone. I felt that just through that I was able to learn a little about you and your personality. It makes for some great voice. I also really wanted to tell you that your descriptive pieces make me feel present as if I were actually there with you or if those were, in fact my own memories. For your "Sugar and Cinnamon" post, I would've liked to have read more of a description of the kitchen like the prompt called for, though I did enjoy reading about the doughnuts. Lastly, I would really just keep an eye out for changing tenses. I caught it several times in different posts of yours. It isn't a gigantic problem, but it has the potential to confuse your readers.
Amanda:The very first thing I noticed about your posts was that they are jam-packed with information. Every one of them is overflowing with facts and clear memories; it really shows your attention to detail. Your posts also have great voice and convey that you are passionate about your life and set goals. In other words, your personality really shines through your writing. For next weeks' posts, I would recommend that you try dividing them into paragraphs. I feel like it would help define new ideas and thoughts, thus making your writing clearer. Also, I feel that maybe organizing your thoughts before you write may be a good technique to try. It would help you figure out where new paragraphs and subjects should start.
Monday, January 24, 2011
A Childhood Kitchen
When I was about five years old, my family (Me, my mom, my dad, and my younger sister) lived in a small trailer on the top of a hill, in the middle of nowhere. Because the trailer was so small, the kitchen was presumably tiny. It was decked out in some really old-looking wallpaper that had pictures of flour and sugar sacks, wooden spoons, and wheat all over it. The laminate counter-tops were well above both mine and my little sister's head. There was also a tiny island in the middle of the kitchen where the gas burners were and the stove was across from all of this.
My sister and I would absolutely love sitting on the counters while our mother was cooking or baking. She would measure things out and let us pour them into the other ingredients. I loved licking batters out the bowls after and off spoons whenever we finished a recipe. My younger sister liked eating the raw ingredients; her favorite being the butter. My mother tired not to allow that, but she couldn't catcher her dipping her finger in the sticks of butter every time. Though that kitchen was beyond tacky, it holds a lot of really great memories for me and my family.
My sister and I would absolutely love sitting on the counters while our mother was cooking or baking. She would measure things out and let us pour them into the other ingredients. I loved licking batters out the bowls after and off spoons whenever we finished a recipe. My younger sister liked eating the raw ingredients; her favorite being the butter. My mother tired not to allow that, but she couldn't catcher her dipping her finger in the sticks of butter every time. Though that kitchen was beyond tacky, it holds a lot of really great memories for me and my family.
Family: Dead or Alive
When Taliena was little she used to be the happiest baby. She was just so darn cute. Everyone that saw her wanted to pinch her chubby little cheeks. She was so teeny tiny that she looked like a doll. So one time, I took her to the store with me and had her in her seat in the shopping cart. I bought a Cabbage Patch Doll and put it next to her in the carrier. Everyone thought she was a doll until we made it to the check-out line and she started crying. I think it took people a couple of minutes to figure out which baby was actually the real one. It was so funny. She was just the cutest!
Oh this wasn't the first time I'd had her pass a Cabbage Patch, mind you. There was one time when Aunt Amy came over to babysit and baby Taliena was already asleep in her crib. I put the Cabbage Patch right next to her. When Aunt Amy went in to see her I watched her to a triple-take before she figured out which was which. I loved it! Like I said before, she was just the cutest, tiniest little thing. I wish she could've stayed that way. Oh I'm just kidding!
(POV: Michelle Armstrong, My Mother)
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Observing the Countryside
Outside the large burnt brick building, sat a quaint shady courtyard. Being that it was two o'clock in the afternoon in the desert, nonetheless, people were constantly stopping by to take a break before walking to the next building in the scorching sun again. The small green tables each had three chairs around them and not one was left unoccupied for longer than a moment. The ground (dirt) was gray in the shadowy light and the trees a soft green color. No one seemed to pay much attention to what things looked like and seemed to be more concerned with finding an open place to sit. 
As I sat at one of the three tables with a couple of friends, a young woman our age approached. She took a look around the table and settled her eyes on my friend Robert. "This is my table," she said. Robert faintly smiled at her, thinking she must be joking. Her gaze unmoving, she says once again said, "This is my table." Robert slowly turned his head and looked at me, half expecting me to help him out with this one. I didn't offer and reproach so he turned to her and politely explained that when we got there, no one else was there. The girl then answered him with," It doesn't matter who gets here first. All I know is that you better be out of my seat and away from my table in the next two minutes." I almost immediately got out of my seat and grabbed my belongings, where I stirred up a little dust. I hate confrontation and figured we should all just move to avoid starting a fight with someone who clearly needed a table more than we did. Though Robert did not look happy, he too moved. Unable to find another table with enough seats for me and my two friends, I walked over to a short cement block mini-flower garden wall. Robert and Ellis reluctantly followed. Because we had been booted from our table and were unable to find a new one, the flower garden wall where the sun shined directly and unfalteringly.Flowers no longer adorned the surface of this flower garden. Everything atop it was brown, dead, and crunchy. I could not tell if it was from the Winter weather, or if it was because the fact that we were in a desert. From the dead flower garden's wall, I could now see the courtyard in its entirety and longed to be sitting in the refuge of its shade again.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Describing an Individual
His smile lights up a room and it's in every way contagious. I'm not sure what it is about him that makes me so happy. We met at work. Not a special or very romantic "how we met" story. We both work as cashiers at a local Wal Mart. He came over one night and told me he would bag for me and that I should feel special because he never does for any of the other cashiers. I blew him off like every one of my other male coworkers. I would've never guessed that a couple months later I'd be falling head over heels for him.Lately, I spend every free minute I have with him. We both have busy schedules with school and our multiple jobs, so when we get to see one another, it's just that much more rewarding. Besides his amazing smile that makes my heart melt, he has a way of seeing right through me. Every wall I've ever managed to put up, he's managed to slowly and ever so gently break down. He laughs at me when I use big words and tells me that the way I use my hands and expressions when I talk are adorable. Most people don't notice the little things. He notices everything.
I spend more time with him than I do anyone else. He makes me feel like I can do anything and not have to change myself to get there. He accepts me for who I am. Lucky me.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Mini Memoir
Who am I? This question always seems so broad to me. I feel as though most people answer this question by telling someone what they do and not what makes them who they are.
I am a girl. I am 20 years old and I live in Mesa, Arizona. I currently attend ASU and my major is Secondary Education-English...Boring, right? Who cares?
Instead, I'd like to introduce myself this way. Hi there. My name is Taliena Walker. I am a very fun loving, but responsible person. I like to think of myself as a perfectionist to the extreme, and though this may be true, I have my flaws just like everyone else. I'm super clumsy and trust everyone. I procrastinate and enjoy gossiping. I lie to spare feelings and keep secrets simply because I can. My flaws contribute to my personality, but they do not define me. I also have good qualities that enhance my true character. I wear my heart on my sleeve and work hard for the things I want. I love the people that are closest to me and am quick to forgive those who deserve it.
This is how I see myself. This is who I think I am.
Simply put, I am me.
I am a girl. I am 20 years old and I live in Mesa, Arizona. I currently attend ASU and my major is Secondary Education-English...Boring, right? Who cares?
Instead, I'd like to introduce myself this way. Hi there. My name is Taliena Walker. I am a very fun loving, but responsible person. I like to think of myself as a perfectionist to the extreme, and though this may be true, I have my flaws just like everyone else. I'm super clumsy and trust everyone. I procrastinate and enjoy gossiping. I lie to spare feelings and keep secrets simply because I can. My flaws contribute to my personality, but they do not define me. I also have good qualities that enhance my true character. I wear my heart on my sleeve and work hard for the things I want. I love the people that are closest to me and am quick to forgive those who deserve it.
This is how I see myself. This is who I think I am.
Simply put, I am me.
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