Week 15 Peer Review

John:

So I was a little confused by your last post… I hope this isn’t a true story. It’s pretty disturbing near the end. If it isn’t real it’s still a little strange to write that graphically for class. Hope you’re okay.

Kayla:

“All Conquers Love” was a very eye opening piece. I didn’t expect it to go the way that it did, but in this case the element of surprise made it good. For a while I thought the two characters would end up together, but then the separation of different faiths made the ultimate difference. This post tapped into faith in a different and interesting way. “Even I Have Them” was written in a really unique way that I liked a lot. The fact that I was unsure what you were talking about at first was intriguing. Then when it was revealed that it was books, it was fun to reevaluate the beginning. Both of these posts really showed your ability as a writer, good job!

Kimberly:

I really enjoyed reading “The Sage of the Lost Purse”. The way you set it up in comic form was really fun and made the story have a whole new level of interesting. I’ve been in that situation with my wallet before, and having it returned in tact is just the best feeling. You really captured that and made it a very successful post. “I Had a Mother Who Read to Me” was very touching. I also had a mother who read to me, and it’s extraordinary what a difference in can make in your perception of books. The way you explained your progressive love of books made this post exciting and meaningful. I enjoyed both of your posts this week very much, and I can tell how much your writing means to you. Nice job!

Dinosaurs

Normal little girls played with Barbies. They liked to dress up dolls, braid hair, and snuggle teddy bears. Normal little girls liked things that were pink and with flowers. However, I was a little different than most normal little girls. Not only did I reject the mere sight of a Barbie, I preferred something a little more towards the masculine side. I, in my childhood, had a very strange obsession with dinosaurs. Not just the cute ones with the long necks, but everything from a t-Rex to a triceratops and a pterodactyl. It was a big strange for a little girl, but boy did I love my dinosaurs.

I’m not really sure what it was that made them more interesting to me than any other animal. I think it had something to do with the fact that they were extinct. Maybe in the back of my mind I figured I had better get my play time in with them now since I’ll never play with them in real life. I think I also liked the power they had – the fact that they ruled the earth for millions of years before we did?! I mean, how cool is that? Sometimes I would make them battle with each other, and sometimes they got along. Sometimes they could talk, and sometimes they spoke in rawwwwr’s. Whatever it was, I always managed to play with them for hours.

My favorite was a guy named Rex. I bet you can guess what kind of dinosaur he was by the name. I remember one day Rex and I were out with my mom, because I took him everywhere, and I ended up leaving him at a restaurant. I couldn’t get him back, and this led to hours and hours of crying. Then a couple days later, my mom showed up out of the blue with Rex! I was so happy. It wasn’t until years later she told me she’d bought a new Rex from the store and hadn’t actually found the original like she’d said. I still have my dinosaurs somewhere in a box at my parent’s house, and I plan on keeping them. Who knows, maybe I’ll have a strange little girl one day that likes dinosaurs just as much as I did.

Coachillin'

Sometimes I get in these moods. These analytical, intrusive moods. And during these moods, all I can think about are the things I don’t like about myself. I think of the mistakes I’ve made, the things I should have never said, and the things I didn’t say but I should have. I wonder if people actually like the person I am, or if they say things about me behind my back. I think about if it’s possible to change these things I don’t like, or if I’m stuck the way I am forever. Occasionally I can remind myself of the things I do like, but lately I’ve just been in a funk. When I’m with my friends I can snap out of it, but being alone just really gets to me sometimes. I don’t much like being alone.

As you can probably tell, I needed a little escape. I needed some time to clear my head and some time get my confidence back. This is why I needed Coachella. For those of you who aren’t familiar, Coachella is an annual music festival in Indio, California. Myself and about ten of my friends were going, and I couldn’t have been more excited. Looking back, it was a weekend of no worries and no reality, a weekend of bliss and love and music. It was a time to clear my head and to realize what was really important in life – the air in my lungs, the friends at my side, and the beauty that was surrounding me every single day.

Coachella restored my faith in a lot of things, including myself. It was a weekend of pure happiness, and it reminded me that I was capable of feeling incredible. The whole weekend was people gathered around for the communal love of music and life, and the fact that these kind of things exist gives me faith in everything else. Now that I’m back, I want to keep the good vibes going. Where does feeling bad about myself get me? Nowhere. All I can do is try and be the best person I can be and treat people the way they deserve to be treated. I’m not saying I all of a sudden I love everything about myself, but I’m realizing it’s never too late to change and there’s always enough time to stop and smell the flowers.

Week 14 Peer Review

John:

“The Boring Job” entertained me a lot. I could tell you were enjoying writing about things you knew a lot about, and enjoying looking back on fond memories. It was crazy to hear that you actually operated machinery under the influence of these illicit substances and lived to tell the tale. These kind of insane experiences make for great writing, and this was definitely one of your most interesting tales. I’d have liked to hear certain details though, possibly your trippiest moment on the job. Your analysis of graphic novel memoirs had a lot of thought put into it. I also liked the fact that you were very honest in analyzing this form of writing and didn’t try and hide what you really thought.

Kayla:

“Orange Baseball” was a heartwarming piece that showed how close you are to your family. It was nice to read about a family tradition that you all obviously hold dear. Even though it’s a monotonous job, you added a sense of fun to it by showing the little tiffs and quirks that go along with it. I especially liked seeing the pictures that went with this post; it really added a nice visual to the story. I also really liked your analyzation of comic book memoirs. All of your points made a lot of sense when critiquing the particular style and I agree with almost all of what you said. I might have gone a little more into detail on the things you thought were good about this style though; there are a lot of positives to this kind of storytelling.

Kimberly:

“Tales From Your Neighborhood Grocery Deli” was a great piece. Your descriptions of everyone you work with were spot on – I could picture each person in my head as you wrote about them. The way you described your emotions in this post was really great as well. I know exactly how it is to be fed up at work, and you really nailed that feeling. I also liked how at the end you threw in a shocker about your previous customer going crazy; it really added a twist to the story. I agree with your interpretation about graphic novel memoirs. It’s a great way to get the point across about autobiographical feelings. One thing that might have added to this post is looking at the negatives, though. Are there any drawbacks to this kind of storytelling, or is it all positive?

Memoir Comics

Overall, I think writing personal memoirs can be a very effective way of autobiography, if it’s done correctly. Writing through comics can give visual representations to things that would otherwise have been left up to the reader’s interpretation. It displays exactly what the writer was thinking instead of having you guess. Comics can also add humor in unique ways that normal writing can’t. They can make a story interesting, that otherwise might have just been a boring day. Having something to look at while you read actually puts you in the story a lot more than just normally reading a book.

“Blankets” and “Pyongyang” are two great examples of pulling off comic memoirs. In “Pyongyang”, there’s a very sarcastic and opinionated tone the entire comic. This isn’t displayed through just the writing though, it’s the way that the writing corresponds to the pictures. For example, there’s a box titled “Looks like we’re in for a great time!” containing a man with a terribly dull and serious look on his face. In “Blankets”, the author uses the pictures in the comic to connect directly to the metaphors in the writing. The beautiful imagery of being blinded by the sun and of the snow melting fit in extremely well with the story line and the things the main character is going through.

There tends to be pros and cons with all forms of writing. One con about comic book writing a memoir is that important ideas might get cut out for lack of physical space. For a comic to look well there shouldn’t be a huge amount of writing and no room for the picture, so it creates a limitation. This also means the author has to pick and choose the things that go into the comic; you can’t necessarily convey every single idea. Some people might also find comics “childish” or prefer not to read them, limiting the range of audience the author can have. Although all of these things might take away from comic book writing a little bit, I still find it an extremely effective and entertaining way to write a memoir.

Instant Classic

Another day hungover in the sun at the car wash. Why did I sign up for this job again? Oh yeah, the tips are pretty awesome. But the sweating and the manual labor? I’m all for women’s rights and everything, but this job wasn’t meant for a girl. My friend Liz and I look at each other. Both of our eyes are screaming “thank God there’s no customers right now.” At least I have a partner in crime. Oh, I mean a partner in “work.”

A huge black truck pulls around the corner, ready to be washed. At first my heart sank. I actually had to work now? But then I realized I knew that truck. It was Jason’s truck, he’d came to visit.

“Thought I’d come to see you ladies in action! How much to clean my baby?”

“Ten bucks and a fifty dollar tip,” I reply as we greet with a hug.

After a few more minutes of talking and reminiscing and the previous night’s events, my boss comes out to see what’s going on. He doesn’t even have to say anything, his look says it all. He wants me to get to work, and he wants me to get to work now. I take the hint and pull the truck up to begin its wash. Jason comes to watch Liz and I go through the process – scrub, rinse, repeat. We’re joking around, Jason’s throwing bubbles at us, and we’re generally having a better time at work than usual. Until, of course, someone had to ruin it.

“Girls, exactly what is going on here?” my boss asked furiously, coming out from around the corner.

“We’re just going to rinse it and then put it right through,” Liz assured him with a laugh.

“You know, with your deplorable behavior lately, it doesn’t even seem like you ladies want to work here!”

Liz and I exchanged looks, but I spoke first.

“Well… the thing is, we don’t really want to work here. So… we’ll be leaving now.”

One shocked look, a quick rinse on the truck, and a peel out later, we were home free. The job really wasn’t worth the tips anyways. But the priceless look on car wash man’s face was. If I had to describe it, I’d say it was an instant classic kind of day.

Week 13 Peer Review

John:

“Staying Out of the Way” was very different from anything I’ve ever read from you before. It really shone through as a milestone in your work. Instead of being humorous and sarcastic, it was dark and thought provoking. I enjoyed seeing a different tone in the way you describe things. “Injustice” was also a more serious piece that created a very specific disposition. While reading this, it was easy for me to put myself in the little boy’s situation. I also felt sympathetic towards the boy while reading, and it’s always good to evoke emotion from your reader. The tone in “Injustice” might have been a little harsh for talking about a little boy near the end, though, but your overall job this week was great.

Kayla:

I loved your post “Pure Intelligence.” First off, the idea of cognitive dissonance is interesting in itself, so good job choosing that as a topic. Second, the ending to the story was priceless. I loved how the entire time the teacher was playing it off. There’s no better way of teaching than hands-on. “Invisible Gag” was extremely sad but extremely well written. It definitely evoked a lot of emotion with me and made me feel very sad for the characters involved. The ending to this piece left me hanging a little too much though; I wish the problem in the story would have been resolved to some point. Other than that, your work has a lot of emotional investment and thought put into it. Keep up the good work!

Kimberly:

“You Say You Want A Revolution” was an extremely eye opening piece. I liked that you chose to write about something that truly mattered to you. The fact that you added pictures and gave information about the No-Kill Movement made the whole matter very tangible and easy for the reader to relate to emotionally. "You shouldn't have to pay for your love with your bones and your flesh..." had a very powerful message behind it. Sometimes in writing it’s good to make people uncomfortable, because at least that way you’re getting through to them. That’s what you did with this piece, and it was very successful. I admire your ability to throw yourself into every prompt on a deep and intellectual level, it really makes for a good read.

Injustice

There are hundreds of people walking this street every day. And since it’s near a college campus, there’s a pretty diverse crowd that comes through. Men, women, boys, girls, professors, students, parents, and just about every variation of the former list. There’s usually a police car camping out on this street also – maybe for safety or maybe just to catch somebody doing something wrong. Of all the times I’ve passed this road, I’ve never seen the police talk to anybody. They usually just sit in the car, and get paid to watch people pass by. But this particular night, they felt they had a reason to talk to a certain young man.

There was a boy walking down the street, probably about 18 or 19 years of age. He was African-American, wearing baggy pants, a baggy black shirt, a backpack, and a durag. He walked right past the police car, and for some reason, they thought they had a reason to question him. From across the street all that I could tell was going on was the officer stopping the young man, and a couple minutes later began to search his belongings. The young man looked irritated, as if he was in a hurry to be somewhere and they had interrupted his journey. One police man opened his backpack and began searching, while a second police man patted him down.

By this time they had finished searching the young man and his things, and apparently had found nothing worth arresting him for. I was now walking back across the street, and I heard the police officer say, “Sorry for the inconvenience, it’s just, you were wearing all black and…”. The officer seemed to have no real excuse for searching the gentlemen. The young man gave the officer a scouring look, picked up his backpack and continued to walk away. The two police officers sheepishly got back in their car and drove away. As the young man walked away, he passed me, and I heard him say under his breath, “Damn pigs…”.

Differences

Every year Tolstoy Publishing House has their annual Christmas party to bring together all employees for a night of festivities. There’s food, karaoke, decorations, presents, music, and most importantly, an open bar. Tonight is the evening of the annual party, and everything so far was going as planned. The tree was up and decorated, the karaoke machine was running, the Christmas cookies were baked, and Myra Kimmel was stressing out. Myra planned the event every year for Tolstoy, and every year she found a new reason to drive herself crazy. Her mousy brown hair and fast words only added to the anxiety of her appearance, but the anxiety she felt on the inside far exceeded any way she looked on the outside.

Enter Jessica Stone: she’s worked at Tolstoy almost seven years and has managed to maintain the expectation that she shows up to every event drunk. Tonight is no exception – Jessica already can barely manage walking in her heels and is screaming about being first in karaoke. Myra’s face turns pale as she sees Jessica, and runs after her to do some damage control.

Enter Jeff, Ken, Jason, and Matt: the office studs. Whatever they did, they traveled in packs, and that’s exactly how they showed up tonight. All in expensive suits, slicked back hair, and those cocky grins that seem to always accompany the face of overpaid yuppies. They’ll sip expensive imported beer and hit on secretaries, but nonetheless are a minimal worry to Myra.

All the others arrive – the CEO, the Head of Publishing, the janitor. Myra entertains all of them, while trying to keep Jessica under control. The office studs make their rounds, and it begins to snow outside. It can be observed that Tolstoy is composed of many different kinds of people, and the one thing they have in common is they all love Christmas and an open bar. These people, as anyone can see, have their stresses, their ways to relive their stresses, and their times with smooth runnings and no stresses. And every year, they almost make up a damn good party.

Week 12 Peer Review

John:

I liked that you chose to write about Tyler Perry and the films he makes. I, personally, can’t stand the man or anything that he comes up with, so I was definitely on your side with this one. This piece was very well written in the way you executed and examined Tyler Perry’s main attributions – his slim demographic and the focus on Christianity. I also liked that you pointed out that it’s not his genre that’s wrong and offensive, it’s the way he’s putting it out there. I might have suggested one small thing – that you wrote something about what is appealing (if anything) about his work. Since it keeps being produced, it must have some kind of strange appeal to some people, and exploring that could be interesting.

Kayla:

Your “Memory Cognition Expert” post was hilarious – some kids are just so good at manipulating their parents, a skill I unfortunately never developed either. I liked how you observed and documented it from the sidelines, and this way was able to analyze the conversation from both ends. “Borrowed Passion” was set up very well also. It was interesting to see the blog excerpts from the person you were talking about, it gave the story a more authentic and hands-on feel. I enjoyed the conclusion you came to at the end of this piece – how it’s nice to have people to look up to, but at the end of the day you only need to rely on your own motivations. Great job overall this week, I love reading your stuff!

Kimberly:

Rosie was a very good idol to talk about, and I’m glad you picked someone who stood up for something so strong. This post was also very good in the sense that you explained everything Rosie represented, and then even added in some history of women’s’ rights and the history of women in the workplace. The pictures and video were a nice touch as well, adding some imagery to the subjects at hand. I also enjoyed the Star Wars vs. Star Trek piece; it was a real eye opener to someone like me who doesn’t know very much about either of them. Now I can sound educated about the matter if it ever comes up in conversation! The interview with Alexander Thomas was intelligent and appropriate, and made the writing have substance. Good job!

A Christmas Story

Santa Claus, Old St. Nick, Chris Cringle – no matter how you say it, we all know who he is. He’s one of the main images you think of not only during the Christmas season, but your childhood in general. He’s the jolly fat man in a red suit with a bowl full of jelly and a bag full of toys that lightened up every December 25^th you can remember. To children, he’s the one they write letters to in hopes of getting the ultimate gift. To adults, he’s the one they secretly become every year and have to protect the image of. But how did this man, who started out as a simple religious Saint, become our seasonal cultural obsession, and what effect does it have?

Think about the moment you discovered Santa Claus wasn’t real. I didn’t react like most children – I was six and straight up told my mom that it all didn’t make sense, and she told me I was right. My reaction was calm and collected and I didn’t really care. My sister on the other hand, didn’t find out until she was almost ten and cried hysterically for hours. So is it somewhat deceitful for parents to do this, and do they just go along with it for the sake of tradition? Can we mark the finding out that Santa doesn’t exist as a monumental moment in life? It appears that’s what it’s become. And all that hard work the parents did comes crashing down. Although the fact the children had fun believing in magic all those years seems to definitely makes up for it.

So we come to the question, is Santa more of a cultural icon, or a loveable image created for our children’s happiness? There’s no doubt in my mind the parents love reciting the whole “naughty or nice list” spiel – that’s sure a way to get your kid to behave better. But what about the future effect on finding out Old St. Nick isn’t really there? Do some children never really recover, and never want to believe in anything again, even if it’s only subconscious? Does the message of what Christmas really is change once they find out their Christmas idol is a phony? And where do the fantasy and reality elements of this timeless and classic icon intersect? Although Santa Claus effects everyone differently, and we may never know how future and current generations will handle his presence (or lack thereof), it’s safe to say that he’s here to stay in our minds, our society, and our culture.

Learning by Doing

“Okay, now the key is to always smile and never lose your cool. And as wrong as they may be, you have to remember the customer is always right,” Ashley said. It was my first day of server training at my new job, and I was terrified. I was personable and outgoing and everything, but Ashley, my trainer who’d worked at the restaurant six years, had the job down to a science. “If you don’t know the answer to something a guest asks you, don’t make something up. Say you’ll be right back with the answer and come ask one of us for help.” Ashley would definitely be the one I was going to for help.

“Hi folks, how are you tonight? I’m Ashley and I’ll be your server. This is Jamie, she’s training and helping me out tonight.” She continued with her spiel for a couple minutes, got their drink orders, and we walked away towards the bar. “These are the main drinks you need to know,” Ashley said pointing at the liquor list. “The top selling wines, their descriptions, and then the main kinds of liquor we carry, and the beers we have on tap.” She saw the bewilderment on my face. “Don’t worry! You’ll get it, I promise. Practice makes perfect. I’ll write all the main points down for you later. But for now, we’re learning by doing.”

I followed and observed Ashley all night. I couldn’t have asked for a nicer and more knowledgeable trainer. At the end of the night, we sat down to review. “You did good, girl,” she said with a smile. “All it really takes is time to come into your own. People like people who are nice. People like people who are open and want to help. You seem to have those things down pretty well, just study the menu for your test next week.” She took a sip of water. “I’ve been doing this a while. I’ve spilled too many drinks and food to count, broken too many dishes to keep track of, messed up people’s bills, orders, the works. And I still do those things sometimes. A positive attitude is key. Just remember, the night can’t last forever.” She smiled again. I think I’m going to like working here.

Week 11 Peer Review

John:

You’re definitely good at picking out topics that people are going to be interested in while reading. Your “Unusual Place” post was pretty fascinating. At first I expected it to be about all of the horrible things that happen in prison. Instead, you pointed out how some things about this particular institution weren’t so bad. It was an unexpected and enthralling twist. Your first and third person variations were good as well; it was easy for me to switch from one point of view to another in my head as I read them. One thing I might have suggested with this post is getting a little more in depth on the emotions and describe not only what’s going on physically, but also in the head of the person’s point of view.

Kayla:
I really enjoyed your posts this week. You have a gift for being very descriptive in a way that doesn’t bore the reader; on the contrary, it adds so much to your stories. “Lunch Time and the Anxious Consumer” was interesting for me to read; I’ve never thought of walking into a restaurant or ordering food to be stressful. But after reading this post, I can see how it would be, and totally understand the situation for a different point of view. I really liked the reference to being a fish in a fish tank, also. Both of the “A Thousand Words” posts were very artistic and delicate, making them a unique read. I really like how you focused a lot on the intensity of that one moment of connection with the painting. Something I might suggest for these pieces though is to switch up the middle a little more with the dialogue, instead have keeping it the same.

Kimberly:

You have a very intriguing way of presenting your stories to readers – always giving a little back story and then developing it from there. This is an organized and helpful way to start out your posts, I enjoy it. “The No Man’s Land Mine” exhibited a good topic and ended up being a well executed story. I can imagine how it would have been scary to be alone with just a stranger in the middle of nowhere – and you make a good point to always let someone know where you’re going. “After the Sun Disappears Over the Western Horizon” was a post I could relate to – I’m also extremely night blind. It was neat how you pointed out that it was a special experience, because you’re usually the one driving during the day and didn’t get to experience the beauty until that day. One thing I might suggest with this post would be to switch up the first and third person point of views a bit more, just for a little more variety.

Resting in Peace

It was an eerie place; not necessarily uncomfortable, but a place you’d go crazy if you thought about your surroundings too much. I didn’t mind it though. Along with all of the sadness, there was sort of a comfort that came with it. Jake felt the same way I did. That’s why he came with me to the graveyard.

 We sat there, staring at my grandmother’s grave for a while. I didn’t know if it was disrespectful, but after I thought about her for a while, I thought about the other people that were there with her. I didn’t want to know how they got there. That would just be upsetting. I like to tell myself they all went peacefully and that it was their time. I know it isn’t true, but I still tell myself that. That’s where the comfort comes from; thinking everyone’s at peace.

Jake and I are just lying on the grass, watching the sun set. It’s nice to not be alone here, it would make it a little creepier to be alone. My thoughts would be too loud for the people underneath. All of a sudden we here a noise: nothing ominous though, just a group of teenagers. They start laughing and horseplay as they walk through the aisles of graves, and I suddenly get very upset. I not only found it disrespectful, but just offensive in general.

Jake saw the look on my face as my eyes followed the teenagers. He gave me a sly smile, and pushed me down so I was flat on my back and the kids couldn’t see us. All of a sudden these ghostly and haunting noises start coming out of Jake’s mouth, directed straight towards the group of teenagers. In an instant they’re running towards their car, not eager to find out what spirits they disrupted.

We had a good laugh about it, and then I started to think. Would the spirits be offended, thinking we mocked them? I hope not. It was more just to protect them from people who didn’t understand the purpose of a place like this. People can have a little piece of the one they love forever by coming here, it gives them something tangible to hold onto. Although I still think of it as eerie, it’s more of in a fond way. I may be naïve, but all I want is the term Rest In Peace to really mean something.

A Bus Ride: Part Two

I stepped on the bus and immediately could feel people looking at me. They were wondering why I was there, what I was doing, and if I was lost. No, I wasn’t lost. But this still wasn’t necessarily my scene. I could tell my face gave off intimidation at first – like I was afraid of my new surroundings. But I wasn’t going to let myself give off that impression, not even to a bus full of strangers. I quickly got myself together and changed the look to show I was certain. Certain, that is, about the bus ride. They could probably tell I wasn’t too certain about myself.

Was it strange if I sat right next to a stranger with all of these open seats? Or was it even stranger if I sat with no one surrounding me, as if I had distaste for them? I didn’t have much time to mull over my options, so I sat in a seat that was empty on either side. I guess this way at least I wouldn’t invade any personal space. I took out my sleeveless book and began to read. Or more like, tried to read. It was more like I was trying to look enthralled with something, busy with what I was doing perhaps. Maybe then I’d be able to keep my mind off things, just by pretending. If you pretend hard enough, anything might be able to happen.

The book wasn’t distracting enough; maybe this neighborhood would be. I directed my attention out to the passing scenery. The streets were familiar; I’d just been used to seeing them out of a convertible, not a bus window. I wondered how I looked to the people on the bus, or if any of them even noticed. Was I out of place? Did I seem confused or frightened? Or maybe just lost in thought? I think I was a little bit of all those things. But not because of the neighborhood. I knew the neighborhood. What I didn’t know was why I forced myself to get somewhere that I didn’t even want to go in the first place.

A Bus Ride: Part One

There was a girl who got on the bus that no one had ever seen before. This route was mostly for regulars, the ones who take it to work and back, to school and back, who all live in this neighborhood. Nobody recognized her though, and it was unusual to see anybody visiting these parts. There really wasn’t much of a reason to visit. The girl looked a little frightened at first, but then put on a face that showed she was confident. An unknown situation wasn’t going to get the best of her, no it sure wasn’t.

She had taken a seat in the middle of three open ones, as not to have anyone on either side of her. A few people glanced, looked her up and down, and then turned their heads again. She looked around a little bit, as to take in her surroundings, and then pulled out a book. The jacket had been taken off the cover, so there was no title on the front. A couple people glanced, perhaps wondering what this book was she reading. It’s just common curiosity to look at what people read in public. If you looked at her eyes, it didn’t even look like she was reading. She was either a speed reader, or staring at one spot on the page.

After a few minutes the girl put aside her book and began to look out the window at her surroundings. She wasn’t searching frantically for where her stop was going to be, she was just observing. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking as images of scenery flashed before her eyes, and it appeared she wanted it that way. And then it became rather apparent that the girl wasn’t unsure about the area and situation she was in; she knew exactly where she was going. But even sometimes when you know where you’re going, there’s an uncertainty of where you’ll really end up.

Week 10 Peer Review

John:

The honesty in your reading makes it really funny. I enjoy the fact that you don’t sugar coat things; we’re all adults taking this class and I think everyone should be able to handle a little foul language, in my opinion. Being  blunt and straightforward is the best way to get through to people sometimes, and you accomplish it. Your “Dialogue” post was very entertaining and I could easily see myself observing the situation, and feeling the annoyance you felt at that time. I just noticed a couple of spelling and simple grammatical errors, like run on sentences. Of course these don’t take away from the essence of the story, but just something to look out for.

Kayla:

I can tell you’re very creative by the subjects you choose to write about. They’re situations you’ve obviously thought about and care a lot about, which really comes through in your writing.  Your posts “Mother Knows Best” and “Internet ‘Love’” were not only honest, but very relatable. Sometimes it’s hard to use dialogue in a way that makes it realistic, but you did just that. “Procrastination: The Art for You” was also very interesting, I would have never thought to explain procrastination the way you did, and it was very eye opening. The only little criticism I would have for your pieces is maybe the endings; they tie things up well but somehow don’t resolve the subjects completely. Great work though, I love readying your stuff!

Kimberly:

You’re a very passionate writer, and that’s something I really admire. Every subject you choose is something you really want to talk about and spread the word about, and this is a great way to do it. You’re posts really touch the reader’s, especially last weeks about MS. Your descriptions are amazing, and suck the reader in from the moment they see the first word. I also admired your bluntness in the post about voting, it was honest and sincere. The post about your video game addiction was intriguing,  for the sole fact of the confidence you write with. That’s something to keep a hold of: confidence. It will never fail to make your writing shine. Good job this week!

(Propmt From Thursday, March 10th) Calm Persuasion

I’ve never been to church with my parents. Not once, ever. This isn’t a bad thing, in my opinion, but whenever I say this people find it strange. Even those that don’t consistently practice religion surely go at least on Easter and Christmas? Nope, not our family. And I never had a problem with it until I started going to church with my friends’ families in elementary school. It would be the morning after a sleep over, and I’d be invited to come with. Sure, I’d say, why not. But the concept is still foreign to me to this day. I don’t know how all of these people gather in this room, and believe these things, and listen to these speeches. But if everybody else’s family did it, why didn’t mine? My parents simply said it was because they weren’t religious, but I could choose whatever religion I wanted to practice. Wow, now I had options.

Besides a brief stint of following Christianity due to my young mind still being molded, I’ve never fallen under any religious category. I don’t have a problem with anybody of any religion though, and I feel as if that should remain clear. I respect every individual’s choice of religion or spirituality, or, lack thereof. My issue with the whole situation is that I’m having people’s religions forced on me out of the blue. A girl stopped me on campus the other day and grilled me for ten minutes about what church I went to, and why on Earth didn’t I go to church, and had I really ever given Jesus a chance? Or people knocking on my front door and not leaving just because I declined Mormonism, even when I was polite as I could be about it. Not all religious people are like this of course, but the ones who are need to learn to respect the rest of us who don’t share their beliefs.

The sad fact is, some people take advantage of the power and connections religion gives you. Parents are teaching their children religion before they can think for themselves, and this causes the child to automatically believe that this is the only way. Not only are they forcing it on other their children, but forcing it on others. People who don’t know that there’s any other option are going to take whatever you give them. Eternal salvation? Sounds good! I don’t want to mock or blame fingers. I just ask that those of you with religious groups have the same respect for those around you that you do of each other. We’re all human beings and were given different minds for different reasons, and we should all be given the chance to explore that on our own.

One of Those Talks

“You’re not going”

“I’m going.”

“You’re not going.”

“Yes, I’m going.”

“No, you’re really not.”

“I AM.”

“You’re NOT!”

Emily and Brandon continued their squandered attempts to win an endless battle. Emily had just gotten an amazing job offer in Portland, but her husband Brandon obviously preferred it if they stayed in Seattle.

Emily paused for a moment while she contemplated her response. “We shouldn’t be using ‘I’ when we talk about this. Whatever we decide we’re doing it together.”

Brandon sat down, also becoming a little calmer. “You’re right. But I’m not hiding the fact that I’m upset. My family’s here, Em. I might be being selfish right now, but so are you.”

“I know,” Emily sighed. “I just have never wanted anything more than this, Bran. My own office overlooking the city! And a management position at the best publishing house in Portland! It’s all I’ve ever wanted.. and you can work on the things you want there too.”

There was an awkward silence between the two, both trying to think of how to get their way in the situation.

“My parents are getting older, you know. I wanted to be around them as long as I could. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to them while we were away.”

“Oh, so now I’m supposed to feel guilty if something happens to your parents?!” Emily retorted. “Don’t give me that kind of unfair guilt, Brandon, not just because I’m trying to go after something I want.”

“I’m not trying to put guilt on you! I’m just saying how I feel.”

“Well you should probably say it in a way that puts a little less blame on this side of the table!”

Another silence. Not a thoughtful silence though, more like the kind of silence where they knew if either of them spoke too soon, it would be immediately regretful.

“Portland and Seattle really aren’t that far. I’ll be making enough money to where we can go visit them a decent amount.”

“I guess that’s true…” Brandon said. “But this doesn’t mean I’m giving in. I just mean it’s a good point.”

“I know,” said Emily. “I can try and be reasonable towards your points too.”

A third silence filled the room, but it was a more comforting silence than ever before.

Brandon finally spoke. “I guess no matter where we end up it just matters that we still love each other.”

Emily looked up, as if realizing she approached the situation wrong all along. “Wow. You’re right.”

Brandon smiled.

And Emily Smiled.

And then they smiled at each other.

Open Interaction

I’ve always wondered what my mother was like at my age. I love my mother more than anything, but we don’t have a huge amount of personality characteristics in common. We deal with our emotions differently, we react in social situations differently, and we analyze things differently. It has never seemed to me that at any age we would have been interested in the things. But I’m a curious person, and I believe I can never get enough information about the people I came from. So, one day a few months ago, I decided to ask my mom what she was like in college.

At first she just answered where she attended school: the University of Arizona. Well, Mom, I already knew that, and it wasn’t necessarily what I was asking. She then proceeded to say she just hung out with friends mostly, but all of this while avoiding eye contact with me and keeping her hands busy around the kitchen. My mother also insisted she was busy with school and didn’t really like going out, all while keeping her sentences very short. She tried to change the subject to what I did in college. Not only did I not particularly want to share this information, this conversation was about her. And she wasn’t getting out of it.

After more pestering on my part, my exasperated mother broke down and said once she threw a raging party at her parents’ house that got broken up by the cops. There was still no eye contact, and she seemed very reluctant and embarrassed to admit this to me. My immediate response was to laugh. Finally my mother looked at me, with a shocked expression on her face. Then she too, began to chuckle and told me the whole story as I pestered further. By the end of our conversation, she didn’t seem awkward or uncomfortable anymore. It was more like it had become a bonding experience we could both laugh over. However the last words of our conversation were, “But don’t you ever even think about doing something like that at my house!”

Week 8 Peer Review

John:

Your posts are funny as hell. I enjoy the fact that the way you write is how I can picture you talking in real life. I also appreciate the honesty; a lot of people have trouble writing exactly what comes to their mind, but it’s really adds a lot to your writing. In “Scene from the doctor’s office,” it was great how you added in your thoughts in italics. It gave a real life grasp on the situation. Your post about piercing Michael’s lip was great too, I could see it happening in my head as I read it. One thing I might suggest is to just look out for simple errors in your writing, like punctuation and run on sentences. It’s nothing proofreading won’t fix though. Good posts!

Kayla:

“Tangible Awkwardness” was a great post. The first thing I liked about it was the title, very appropriate and creative. Another thing that was good was the imagery you created. With the subtle details and accuracy of events, you created something that was easy for me to walk through in my head. I actually felt bad for Mike too, even though I wasn’t involved in the situation. One thing I might suggest is to maybe have focused a little more on what you thought of the situation, as to get a little more inside the writer’s head. But other than that, all of your written observations were great and I enjoyed reading it a lot. Good job!

Kimberly:

Your blog posts from last week really showed how sentimental your writing is. You write about what you know and what you care about, which are always going to be good subjects because they come from the heart. Your post about Hermie had me so sad! I didn’t expect such a sad ending at it really tore at my heart. But as a writer, it’s a good thing to tear at the reader’s heart. Your post about Comic-Con was also very entertaining, I’ve never read much about it before so it was cool to hear it told from a true advocate. I actually don’t have any criticism really for your work this week; you followed the prompts and responded in a well written and interesting way. Keep up the good work!

City of Angels

You think you’ve got freeways where you come from? You should see the ones we have here. Ten lanes spanning left to right in with a mass of cars covering every foot of every one. You’d better look out for your exit because if you miss it, that’ll take you an hour out of the way. Can’t keep up with traffic? Don’t expect me to be nice about it. Call it inconsiderate or whatever you like, but the rubber on the pavement is always hot and the people in the cars are always hotter. Get in the right lane, don’t cut off the Ferrari, take the exit, and let’s take a look at the city.

Downtown L.A. isn’t anything to be messed with. You think people come here to live the beautiful life? That’s why they invented Beverly Hills 10 miles west. The sidewalks are covered in trash, cigarettes, and dirt, all extending as long as you can see. Cheap pizza place? On the corner of 6^th. Need a pack of cigs and some rolling papers? Abed at the Kwik Mart’ll help you. Think that homeless man standing on the corner is really going to use your change for food? I bet you didn’t even smell the booze on his breath. I walk these streets and see these things and it all seems surreal. Because every single person you make eye contact with? All they want to do is make it here.

Our waitress at lunch was actually an aspiring actress. One of the thousands, actually. They work dead end jobs to pay for their portfolios, and still think it’ll all be worth it one day. The beach is the only escape for them, for anybody. For a minute while standing there, you almost forget that everyone in L.A. wants the same thing you do. For one minute you can unite; as the sun falls onto your face, as the cool salt water touches your toes, and as the sand squishes between your feet. You’re not competing anymore, you’re united. And as thousands of cars enter the freeways for rush hour, don’t think about how long it’ll take you to get home. Think about that fact that you’re united.

Responsibility

“Don’t me mad, and don’t freak out okay?”

That’s not necessarily what I wanted to hear right now. “Okay, what is it?”

“The weather from the storms is too bad for our flight to take off… we’re going to be stuck in Chicago at least another two days… I’m so sorry J, but can you watch over your little sisters ‘til we get back?”

“Yeah, of course! Good luck with your flight, keep in touch. We’ll be fine.” I answered before I even thought about it, as if I had that response on autopilot. As I hung up the phone, I actually started to think about the situation I was in. I had a midterm paper due in 6 hours that I hadn’t started. I was supposed to be at work in the morning. I had no idea how to cook dinner for seven year old girls.

I went to find the twins to tell them the news.

“Girls, Mom and Dad won’t be home for a couple days, I’m going to be in charge until they get back. Okay? Sounds fun, right?”

Not fun. The first thing they did was run around throwing everything they possibly could around the house. Toys, DVDs, food. I was barely fast enough following them around picking up everything they dropped. And then, I just sort of lost it.

“THAT IS IT! Jess, Tess, you two are officially in time out! Get to your room!”

“You’re not the boss of us!” Tess yelled in her little voice.

“Oooohhh yes I am!” I grabbed to key to their room, forced them in, and locked it. I felt guilty already, but had to get down to business.

Asking my teacher for an extension on my midterm, check. Getting my shift covered at work, check. Reading the directions on the box of mac and cheese, check.

Feeling better, I went into the twins rooms. They were playing with plastic horses, and determined to ignore me.

“Girls… I’m sorry. I just got a little stressed for a minute.. want me to make dinner?”

They looked at each other, smiled, and ran at me simultaneously. Before I knew it, I was in the middle of a twin tickle sandwich, barely able to speak due to laughing too hard.

“TESS… JESS… hhhaaaa ahh! Okay, okay! Let’s watch a video and have dinner!”

The rest of the night they weren’t necessarily perfect angels, but what they definitely were was fun. I hadn’t had quality time like this with my sisters in too long, and I forgot how much I enjoyed it. I’m not saying the next two days would be easy, but they wouldn’t be a punishment from the world, just a chance for me to grow. And I can to the conclusion that sometimes an unexpected responsibility is just life’s way of forcing you to see things in a different way.

Week 6 Peer Review

Skylar: “Parties and Pine Trees” was a very good post. The amount of detail in your writing is really great, since it always helps paint a picture in the reader’s mind. I felt myself walking through the house as I read that post, and saw the things that you were writing. It was also neat how you built up the situation from the beginning and didn’t just jump into the drama from the very beginning. I do wish maybe the part about the actual fire happening was longer though, just to make it seem like a little bigger of a deal. Exaggerating and exemplifying certain details in a story can really bring it to life, and you definitely have the potential to do that.

Matthew:

A really liked a lot of the aspects of “Thunder in Paradise.” First off, it was good that you gave some background on what it meant to be a local and a tourist in Hawaii, since that ends up being a major factor in the story. I also liked how you made it seem like everything was happening in slow motion, even though in real life I’m sure it all happened very quickly. By slowing down and taking time to explain the situation it makes it seem more real. I really liked the ending as well, grabbing a beer after a stressful situation makes it seem a little more relaxed and lighthearted of a story. Throughout the post, there were just a couple details I thought were maybe unnecessary, but other than that it all played out together really well.

Chelsee:

I like the fact that in your posts you write about your family. They’re obviously very close to you heart, and it really comes through in your writing. Your post this week was written very clear and straightforward, which is a good thing when trying to get main points across. I like the fact that you started out with a quote about anger, and ended with a picture and warm closing note about your brother. I would have like to see a little more analysis of the situation though. Instead of just stating what happened, it would have been cool to see you asses and go into more detail about your feelings. Just taking it to the next level could have really enhanced the story, but it was still a very enjoyable read.

Matrimonial Massacre

I’m wearing a hideous dress. Three other women are standing next to me, wearing the same hideous dress. But the only thing that matters is the woman in the center, wearing the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen. My best friend was getting married, and I couldn’t stop smiling. Ever since she entered the room, and all of the guests turned around in their seats to watch, that smile hadn’t left her face. And well, smiling tends to be contagious. Especially at an event as special as this.

I was looking right at her when it happened. That smile, that smile that had been there since the moment she entered the room, that smile that had taken everybody’s heart by storm.. that smile? That smile slowly was disappearing off her face. And that’s when I realized, that the entire time, that beautiful smile was fake. The priest was talking but I could tell she wasn’t listening. Her eyes were terrified, her face was stiff, and faking the panic for happiness was getting harder and harder to do. I’ll never forget what happened next: she took one last long and hollowing look at him, one fleet of a glance, directly in my eyes, as if to say “I just can’t do it, and I know you understand why,” and bolted.

 I knew it only took her a few seconds to exit the church, but it might as well have been hours. The train of her dress was dragging behind her, her veil was blowing back behind her head, the bouquet she was holding was long gone back at the altar, and her groom was wearing the saddest look I’ve ever seen. No one had time to react, no one had time to stop her, no one even had time to chase after her. All of a sudden that long moment, between the altar and the church doors, was over. And all that was left were hundreds of frantic guests in pews, a few confused bridesmaids, and a brokenhearted groom. I had just witnessed a breaking of an era, a failed attempt at marriage, and the breaking of two hearts no longer in the same place. And it all just started with a smile and a few hideous dresses.

The All-American Picnic

The sizzling sound of a ground beef patty as it hits the grill on a sunny Saturday afternoon: this is a surefire sign you’re at an all-American backyard barbeque cookout. There’s fresh cut watermelon to keep kids and adults alike satisfied until the main course of hamburgers and hot dogs can sit in our bellies. The neighbors brought potato salad; Aunt Alison made her famous vegetable medley. And of course everybody’s favorite guilty pleasure of potato chips and onion dip. Throw in some Bud Light and the radio baseball commentary and you really can’t get more American than that.

Let’s observe Dad at the grill: he’s got his favorite “Kiss the Cook” apron, a spatula of gigantic proportions, and the meat set up in an organized and thought out manner. He takes a poll: who wants American cheese on their burger? Who wants cheddar? And who just wants it plain? How many people would prefer a hot dog to a burger? And who’s gonna go all the way and have both? After getting everything in order, it’s time to get down to business. As he flips the burger, a beautiful smell fills the air, lifting everyone’s spirits in a way only a backyard barbeque can do.

When the food on the grille is finally done, the kids are the first to run and get their share. Jumping up and down for the first cheeseburgers and hot dogs, Dad gives them the special smaller ones, made just for them. With a few squeezes of a ketchup bottle and some diced veggies later, everyone’s sitting down at picnic tables enjoying their meals. Compliments from all to the chef, who’s finally settling down to enjoy his own work. Smiling, laughing, Mom wiping mustard off little Jessie’s face. Just when we all thought our stomachs couldn’t be any happier, we see it coming from inside the house: a warm apple pie, straight from the oven and into Mom’s hands. The smell fills our nostrils with happiness; happiness that can only come from a fresh and unexpected desert.

All of this plays into the comfort food of America, and I couldn’t be more comfortable if I tried.

Week 5 Peer Review

Skylar:

I liked the approach you took in “Water, Sun, and Solitude.” It was interesting how the piece itself was supposed to be generally focused on the beach and vacation aspect, but most of it takes place at the airport and on the plane. It was also good that you added a specific connection to another character, Nick, and explained that connection to the reader. “My Rock” was a very successful piece in the way that you made it extremely personal. You explained everything in such great detail that it made it easy for the reader to relate. The only suggestion I might make for your writing is to maybe take a little more risk; say something that the reader wouldn’t see coming to add an excitement factor.

Matthew:                                        

I think “A Double with Papa” is one of my favorite things you’ve written. It’s so obvious that the story came from so close to your heart, and it gives the reader an instant connection to you. I loved when you wrote, “For me, finding a connection with someone pouring their heart and soul out into words is the closest I will come to finding God in this lifetime.” I can completely relate, and it really drew me even more into the piece. The fact that you can analyze your thoughts into a work like this shows your talent in a whole new light. Whatever place you brought yourself to write this, you should go there more often.

Chelsee:

It was really neat to read about your passionate dream of going to Ireland. I could tell from reading your post that it’s something you really want to do, since you’ve already thought about all of the things you would do while there. I liked the fact that you lent examples of what you would eat and specific places you would go. I would have liked you to maybe have taken just a little bit of a different approach to this piece though; maybe just have arranged it so it was from your point of view when you were actually there, not just thinking about going. It would have seemed a little more real and vibrant to the reader. Still very good work though!

Open Water

I’ve never been in a situation like this. I can look out for miles in either direction, and never see any land. I can feel my feet on something hard below me, but it’s not solid ground. It’s just a piece of whatever this massive thing is made out of. How does it float? How can something so large take me away from civilization so fast? I don’t even think it’s that I feel lost. I think it’s that I miss walking on something I can trust not to wobble.

How different everyone reacts… I think it tells a lot about a person. Some relax and take advantage of this new and exciting world. A world where work doesn’t exist, just the opportunity to be one with the open sea. These are the people that take life as it comes at them without a look in the other direction. And then there’s the others. The one who have to rely on Dramamine to make it through the day. The ones who only see this as a mode of transportation, not an escape. These people do look in the other direction, and what they’re hoping to see is land. I think I’m somewhere in the middle. I don’t really like to define myself with extremities, I’m not close minded enough for that.

Such different reactions and such different people. There must be one common thing that unites us all, and it just might be a few decks below my feet.

The most fascinating thing about it is just to watch. The sea has the same effect as fire on people; it’s so simple, but in effect, it’s mesmerizing. These cold, white handlebars, these hardwood floors, these lifeboats attached to the sides. They’re really only accessories to what people really came to see. And luckily, I can see it for miles.

A Trip Never Taken

Buildings, tall buildings, taller buildings than I’d ever seen, and they’re all surrounding me. Buildings so tall they block the view of the sunlight, and the view anything that stands in their way. And the people, all the people, walking so swiftly they might as well run, never looking at one another, just looking at what’s ahead. I wish I knew where they were all going, why they were all in such a hurry, why they couldn’t stop to notice the majesty. I must have looked strange standing there, soaking it all in while others didn’t even stop long enough to get their feet wet.

My first bite of the Big Apple. I didn’t expect it to taste like this; handsome, harrowing, haunting. Who stood here before me? Were they lost and needing direction, or were they just admiring the fact that they found their way? How many stories have walked these streets, etching their words into the sidewalk like children do with chalk. And the chalk gets erased, by rain or by time, but that doesn’t mean the story wasn’t there. That doesn’t mean the sidewalk forgot. A collection of stories, that’s what this city is. A collection of fables.

I’ll play a game, I’ll walk a little brisker. I’ll see how many of these tall buildings I can pass, how many yellow taxis I can count, how many cell phones I hear ring. This is a place of opportunity and a place of adventure, and every single person I pass has their own reason for being here. And my reason? To feel the wind pass over my scarf and through my hair. To sit on a bench and let my mind wander. To take a subway and get off at an unknown stop. To lend a dollar to the street entertainer to my left. And above all? To find my own form of adventure.

Week 4 Peer Review

Skylar:

Your post “Cuffin’ the Hot Sauce” was really something (in a good way, though). It was great how strong you stood with your opinions and how you backed up your reasoning. It was also very brave of you to use personal examples from your own parents’ lives, and it really added something to the piece. One thing you might want to consider though it looking at the other side of the story a little bit more, so the readers know you’re not trying to discredit it. Your post “I Love My Dad” was your most creative yet in my opinion. I loved how you set it up; adding the lyrics in while the song is also supposed to be playing in the story. Great job on this one.

Matthew:

I really enjoyed your descriptions in “Somewhere in the Middle of Montana”. You gave very specific examples throughout the whole piece, and readers appreciate it when they can tell the story comes from an authentic place. The tone when you talk about your Grandmother is very sincere, and it really comes through. For this assignment though, there could have been a little bit more connection and reference to the song in the beginning. “Angelo: The Refuse Messiah” was a very creative piece. You hit the prompt dead on and nailed it. Also, the dialogue really added a lot to this piece, making it seem very unadulterated. It’s also apparent you did your research, it definitely comes through in the writing.

Chelsee:

Your post about meeting your biological father was really touching. You really connected the reader into how you felt about the situation and how all of the events took place. The pictures in the post also added a creative element to it. I did see a couple of type-o’s however, but nothing that can’t be fixed by a little proofreading. Your post on gun laws was a good choice of subject since it relates to recent events. Also you offer a good insight on the situation, you could have possibly took a little bit more of a creative approach versus opinion. It was still interesting to read though, which is always one of the main points.

Mariama:

“Princess Lover” was a very sincere and personal post. You did a great job at giving examples in the story that made it very special. I also liked how you weaved the lyrics into your writing, showing how they really connected to the story. I might suggest you just proofread your work a little more in the future though, for grammatical errors. In your “Newsworthy” post, it was great how you connected yourself to the incident. Saying where you were and how you reacted when the event occurred adds a new dimension to your writing. You mention your post that the shooter was an “atheist and smoked marijuana”. Although this could be a true fact, it might not be necessary to mention in your writing. Many other people are Atheists (and smoke marijuana) that wouldn’t ever commit a crime like this. It sort of sounds like stereotyping, even if you didn’t mean to. Good job overall this week, though!

And We'll Play Crack the Sky

We sent out the S.O.S. call.

When we thought we could run, it was more like a crawl.

And when I decided to get away from it all,

It was less like a crawl and more like a fall.

They call 'em rogues. They travel fast and alone.

You were a rogue, the way your eyes shone.

This conversation, its head has been blown.

And from the beginning, I should have known.

Four months at sea, four months of calm seas.

The tides were so low when they hit my knees.

Although it may seem I’m speaking of the sea,

The matter at hand is you and me.

This story's old but it goes on and on until we disappear,

What we’ve tried to end has become what we fear.

Somehow four months turned into a year.

And who would have guessed we’d still be standing here.

One hundred foot faces of God's good ocean gone wrong.

It was sure to be over, it was all along.

And as we both just tried to be strong,

All I can hear in my head is this song.

Looking for the Light at the End of the Tunnel

A fictional memoir from a Chilean miner who was a part of the 2010 Copiapó mining accident:

We’ve been counting the days. All of us putting a small mark on the tally in our head. It makes us think that with every day that passes, maybe we’re getting closer to getting out of here. That may or may not be true, but the positive attitude is what gets us through the day.

Sometimes during the day I get distracted enough to forget I’m trapped. I can fool myself into thinking it’s just a normal day at work. We break into groups, we are assigned tasks, and we work the day in the mines. But where we would normally break for lunch, or to go home for dinner, there’s nothing to eat. Rationed food every 48 hours just doesn’t compare. Especially not to my wife’s home cooked meals. That’s another thing that makes me remember I’m trapped. I sleep on a hot damp floor instead of in a peaceful house with my family.

I’ve never felt like this before. So dirty, so greasy, so thin, so unhealthy. I can’t tell if there’s permanent physical damage to my body, I can’t even tell what I look like. I wonder if my eyes will ever adjust to the sun again, or if I’ll have to lead a life of darkness. I wonder how long it’s even possible for us to survive down here. With the food we have it doesn’t seem like more than 70 days or so would be possible. But none of us have died so far. And I’m just going to tell myself that’s the way it will keep going.

This is a test most others won’t experience in their lifetime. And it’s not even as much a physical test, as it is a test of mental strength. Our main goal down here is to keep up the morale, because with that, we’ve lost everything. Urzúa told us the only thing a positive attitude can do is help us, and I’m sticking to that. I will keep images in my head of the things I love about life, and the things I will soon return to. I will be a part of not only a support system, but a family I have now become a part of. And I will tell myself, above all, that if I survive this, I can survive anything.

Week 3 Peer Review

Skylar:

I really enjoyed your posts this week! “Rationale Affected by Ego - An Autobiography of Nick Miller” was my favorite. You completely got into character of being someone else. The fact that you could abandon your previous writing style for another was very impressive. Also for that post, I like the fact that you added the thought dialogue by using italics. It makes the reader feel even more like they’re in Nick Miller’s brain. “Bumper Meets Knees” was also a very good post, I like the approach you took. You built the scene up with simple events until the very end, when you shock the reader with a terrifying event. At first the reader thinks it’s just about a simple afternoon, but the twist at the end really changes the vibes from the piece, in a good way.  

Matthew:

“The Autobiography of Jeremy V” was a really great post. It kept my attention the entire time, I was constantly guessing what was going to happen. Your description of Steve was humorous and spot-on; I could picture his movements and behavior in my head. “In My Youthful Kitchen” also displayed good writing, the beginning really set the mood for the rest of the post. I also really liked your use of dialogue to bring life to the story. Details through dialogue is one of my favorite ways as a reader to really get into a piece. You get very deep into your stories and always leave the reader satisfied, definitely keep up the good work!

Chelsee:

The post about your childhood kitchen was just adorable. The way you talked about Santa really puts the reader back to that time in your childhood. I also like the fact that in the autobiography post you took a little bit of a different approach than others by giving some factual information on your person. This was very helpful to understand the rest of the post. By adding more specific details though, you can really bring a lot of color to your work. The enthusiasm and idea content are all there, you just need a little more brightness to really make your work shine. Other than that, your topics are always interesting and heartfelt, which is a very enjoyable aspect of reading your work.

Mariama:

Your writing is very personal, and that’s an aspect of it you should never lose. When talking about how you didn’t have a kitchen growing up, I felt very connected to your story by the way you described it. It’s so interesting to see other people’s perspectives who have grown up differently than I have, and I know I’ll enjoy reading your work throughout the semester. One tip I might give you is to interpret your work a little more. Although the straight facts are still interesting, hearing more of your thoughts and emotions towards your subjects will bring your writing to a new level. Taking chances and being brave in writing is what makes it great sometimes; don’t be afraid to push boundaries and your writing will soar. Sometimes it’s hard to find the right words to say, but the honesty of saying exactly what’s on your mind would be really great for these posts.

The Autobiography of ?

The misses came in this morning to tell me she was going into town for some shopping, but that I was still expected to get my work done even though she wouldn’t be there to watch me. Watch me? Is that what she calls it? Well I call it her sitting on the porch drinking sweet tea while I work in her fields. Yeah, she may look over at us once in a while, but that don’t mean she’s watchin’. It just means she ain’t got nothing better to do that day because her hair didn’t take as long to curl. That’s one thing I got on her; my hair curls just fine.

It seems hotter than usual today. Not a cloud in the sky to save us from that sun. We all like to call our sun hats our “best friends” because they’re the only things that keep us from getting burnt right through to the skull. It’s about damn time I got a new one, though. There’s holes in the sides and it’s starting to smell something god-awful. I’m hoping to get down to the creek sometime this weekend. Lord knows we could all use a bath, and some laundry done.

The thing that gets me through the days mostly are my thoughts. I put myself somewhere else – anywhere else – but here. Someplace where they’re the ones serving me. And if I come home after a long day of fishin’, there’s somebody there to rub my damn feet. Someplace I don’t need a home with fields like these, I can just have a grassy area to roam. And even though that ain’t the truth, and may never be, at least I have the picture of it to get me through the day.

She’s home. Ready for her the old man to read her a nice little story while she drinks her sweet tea on the porch. I’ll picture me in her shoes tomorrow, and it’ll be enough to get me through the day.

A Childhood Kitchen

The carpet was brown and the tile was speckled. And although my parents knew these weren’t the most attractive decorative decisions, having two young children and a dog meant lots of messes. So why not have flooring that covers those stains? Along with this theme, my mother was almost always cleaning the kitchen. One night I insisted to do the dishes after dinner, and ended up accidentally using an entire bottle of dish soap. Don’t ask me how it happened, I couldn’t tell you. All I remember is that my mom was still grateful I had tried to help.

Two facts about me when I was a child: I hated taking my vitamins, and I was sneaky. Every night during dinner, my mother would put chewable vitamins on my plate next to my food. They always ended up gone, so she always assumed I had eaten them. They disappeared alright, but they didn’t go to my stomach. We had an old heater whose system lined the bottom of our home, all around the dining area and near the kitchen. There were small spaces in the heater; small spaces where small things, such as vitamins, could be stuck. I would wait until my parents weren’t looking, and then slide the vitamins into the heater. It was genius, right? They’ll never find them there!

Wrong. Months after this had been going on, my dad started a project to clean the heater. All of a sudden, about 60 vitamins fall out of it and into his hands. Of course they knew it was me – my sister loved the taste of Flintstone’s vitamins. I immediately broke down and started apologizing, hoping they’d take pity on me. But all they could do was laugh. After I got over the initial shock I wasn’t in trouble, I was laughing too. The four of us. Just sitting there laughing. It’s moments like these I love my family, because whether I use up an entire bottle of dish soap, or stuff an entire bottle’s worth of vitamins in the heater, they never fail to see the good and the humor in situations.

Cold Conscience

One moment we were heading home from work, and the next I’m wondering if I’ll live to see another day. I know what happened. I know exactly what happened. We were heading home from work, just Dan and I, taking the back road late at night. The road never seemed so empty before. Not until Dan hit a patch of ice and the car got stuck in a snow bank. Not until we couldn’t dig the car out of the snow. Not until I realized it was negative thirty degrees. Not until then, did I realize how empty that road was.

There was nothing for miles in either direction. If we tried to walk to civilization, we’d freeze. If we stayed in the car, we’d freeze a little slower. So, the car it was. At first we just tried to convince ourselves that someone would come. Someone had to come. Someone had to know that two 25 year old men, who didn’t deserve to freeze to death, were out there. But as the seconds turned to minutes, and the minutes turned into too many to keep track of, I began to worry. Everything went numb. I couldn’t tell if I was being paranoid or if I could really feel my insides shutting down. And then there it was.

A light. But what was it? Was it the entrance to the pearly gates, had the cold finally got me? It wasn’t heaven, but what it was could have surely been the work of an angel. A large truck coming down the road, coming straight for us. The truck was big enough to pull our car out and tow it back to civilization. He didn’t even know we were out there. He just happened to be taking the back way as well.

Dan and I couldn’t stop staring at our driver on the way home. He was a savior, disguised as a rugged truck driver that desperately needed a shower. I’ll never forget the luck of that scruffy old man finding us that day. That’s when I started to believe in fate. That’s when I started to believe that I had a purpose here. The cold would have eventually got us if we hadn’t been rescued, and we would have died. But dying in a beat up station wagon wasn’t my fortune that day. And I’m willing to spend my whole life finding out why I was spared.

Week 2 Peer Review

Skylar:

You’re very good at descriptions – I can really see the things as you describe them in your work. The use of analogies in your work really shows your creative side. You’re able to write about things exactly how they are, which gives the reader a very good idea of where you’re coming from. Especially in “Overbearing Observations”, I really got a feel for your writing. Readers can tell you’re intelligent and organize your thoughts well. The only critique I might have is to possibly analyze a little more – which you definitely do to some extent, it’s not absent. A reader can see what you’re talking about, but they might want to think about it on a little bit of a different level.  

Matthew:

First off, I enjoy the fact that you wrote about Alaska (I grew up in Anchorage). It definitely brings me back. Second, I really enjoy the emotion in your writing. It’s obvious you care about and know a lot about the things you say, and that comes through to the reader. A particular line, from “Describing an Individual,” I really enjoyed: “This aging adds to the beauty of her personality the same way a rich patina adds immeasurably to the beauty of sculpted antiques.” That was definitely heartfelt and sincere, while also adding a great comparison. If I had anything to criticize, it might just be that the “Observing the Countryside” entry was a little too long. There were many interesting observations, but not all of them might have been necessary for one entry. Maybe by picking out the best and most vivid details, it could help the writing run a little smoother.

Chelsee:

Putting the quotes at the beginning of each entry is a really cool way to set the mood for what you’re writing about, I really like it. I also like how much your personality shines through when you write – when you were talking about the “spaghetti vs. macaroni” debate, I almost laughed out loud. Examples like these show your sense of humor and brightness. Your writing is very smooth and fun to read, but my criticism would be to maybe add a little more depth. Possibly a few more analogies or out of bounds observations would add more to your already vibrant writing.

Mariama:

Couldn’t access blog? Said the following when I clicked on the link, and there was no other content really.

“You are viewing a feed that contains frequently updated content. When you subscribe to a feed, it is added to the Common Feed List. Updated information from the feed is automatically downloaded to your computer and can be viewed in Internet Explorer and other programs.”