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.”

Hangout Paradise

Everyone’s in line, everyone’s eager. It’s way too early in the morning to not have coffee, and these people need it now. Two run-down looking girls reminisce about the night before. “Oh my god, did I? I don’t even remember that.” Giggle. Brush it off ladies, brush it off. Soon you’ll be a little less hungover and a lot more caffeinated. If only this damn line would move.

Entering the line: two Asian boys speaking a language only they can understand. Or at least they’re the only people at this coffee house that can understand. People look, stare, wondering what they’re saying. “Do you think they’re talking about us?” Probably. Fun for them and unfortunately for us we’ll never know though. Maybe I’ll take Korean next semester.

The employees in the back are chipper and quick – they know their jobs like the back of their hands. You could say the smile on their faces are from the caffeine, but I prefer to think they actually like their jobs. After a few jokes are exchanged and a few laughs are had, I’m thinking I might be right.

And then there’s the kids at our table. We get there at the right times to avoid lines. We know the right times to avoid lines because we’re there so much. The employees know our names and don’t upcharge us for extra espresso. We sit at the same table every day, and watch the day slide by. Having cigarettes as members of the group come and go. The employees turn it to the radio station we like. And we sit at our bench.

The line moves along and the boys and the girls all receive their drinks. We’ll all leave eventually, but not yet. For now we’re just here. Drinking our coffee.

A Certain Individual

The first thing you notice about her is that she’s beautiful. Long blonde hair, pretty green eyes, straight white teeth. She looks as if she was cut straight out of a fashion magazine. Trendy clothes, perfectly accessorized, thin frame. You wonder what she’ll say when she opens her mouth. But then she never does. And although shyness can be intriguing, in this case it’s more offsetting. Almost makes you uncomfortable. Like there are rays of judgment coming out of her eyes and there’s nothing you can do to stop them. 

Yet she’s polite enough. In a general kind of way. Sits and minds her own business, utters small remarks when she has to. She doesn’t necessarily do anything wrong, maybe doesn’t even realize the nonverbal cues. But she walks through her day not trying to make friends, not trying to make herself happier. The comfort zone she calls home isn’t filled with social outings and advancements, but rather alone time at the desk in her room. And I think the thing that bothers me the most is that people take the time to try and get to know her, and she doesn’t put any effort into getting to know them back.

She walks like she’s scared. Like she can’t escape whatever is surrounding her. I’ve lost all hope she’ll break out of her shell and show the world she’s more than a pretty face. She’s too stuck. She’s one of those people that’s going to look back ten years from now and wonder how it all passed them by. And the answer to that question? You were too busy trying not to become like everybody else that you couldn’t even become yourself.

Mini Memoir

My name is Jamie Rose. I’m 20 years old, and like most my age, I’m still trying to figure it all out. There are a few things I do know though. I know the people in my life make it worth living, which contributes to the fact that I don’t like being alone. I know I get excited and worried at the same time when I think about the future. I know some of the best advice I’ve ever received was to always keep a positive attitude and a sense of humor.

But a personality is composed of more than our outlooks. It’s also about where we came from, what we do, and the things we like. So on a more basic level, here are a few things about me: I grew up in Anchorage, Alaska and moved to Tucson when I was 14. I’ve lived in Tempe a year and a half and absolutely love it. I have two parents, one sister, and a dog, all of whom make up my great support system. I think there’s nothing better than a good movie, a good book, or good music. In my spare time, I like to enjoy those things.

Since trying to define and explain oneself can be difficult, the easiest thing to do would be to keep it simple. I’m a sophomore at Arizona State majoring in Business Communications, and I’m having a great college experience. I enjoy the little things in life, I work every day to remind myself not to take anything for granted, and I believe the best feeling in the world is that of adventure. My name is Jamie Rose, nice to meet you.