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.