Great work everyone! Happy Rough Drafts!
Brandon: You really had a clear obsession with the game growing up. It was great to see you explore your relationship with the game and it was clear you had a wealth of knowledge. I felt the perspective you were coming from kept shifting throughout the piece, which created a unique flow. Although sometimes it created a bit of confusion. I love that the game really created a bond between you and your friends. Its clear that it meant something a twinge bit more to you all than a game. I like that you worked with comics, but I couldn't actually access it. I don't want to give you insincere feedback so all I can really say is go you for taking that risk!
Chlesee:
I respect your choice in writing not drawing. I made the same one, and am glad you took that risk too. The quote you used near the end of the blog really offered support for you and the reader as well. I think you could dive more into your journey with nursing school and this career path. It seems to have really shaped you and I'd love to hear more. The blog about the truck so was great. I loved seeing the child in you still be apart of you as an adult. I think this really captured apart of your personality. You repeated the word "truck" a lot and it added to the obsessive mindset. It also really emphasized your obsession for the reader.
Leena:Your blog about faith was extremely eloquent and left me wanting so much more. I think you could really dive into what happened to change your faith, maybe not a specific point but just how it came unraveled. I think you have a great, realistic outlook on the development of your faith and that is clear in this post. Write more. Always do! You really captured the nagging desire that kids have when they really want something. It was so great and made me laugh. I really loved that you used pink to add extra character to the piece. Both of these posts really showcased your range of ability with writing.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Thursday, April 21, 2011
La rad's stickers
Ummmm. Okm so I got these stickers in class today because the art teacher came in cause when I go up to forth grade next year I get to do arts and crafts. She brought in stcikers for all of us and I got blue construction paper. Everyone got a different color and
umm
she told us we got to take these stickers and put them however we liked on the paper and everyone had different stickers. Jessica next to me had animel stickers and they were really cool cayse I sawe the ducks and ducks are may favorite animel. Mine are glitter stars…which I really like
Cause there all different sizes and I started
Putting mine at the top of the paper to make a sky. So I made my sky and um and ummm and and umm all of the big stars were one side
All the little stars were on the other side and I thought about showing my mom cause she showed me the north star
One time
And
And I
Was abot to finish with all my stickers and she came around with new stickers. I didn’t add the new stickers cause some people ripped them open. But she told us to save them and not to open them cause we had to go home and do the same thing. With the stickers she gave. And then we were gonna bring that back to class next Tuesday.
umm
she told us we got to take these stickers and put them however we liked on the paper and everyone had different stickers. Jessica next to me had animel stickers and they were really cool cayse I sawe the ducks and ducks are may favorite animel. Mine are glitter stars…which I really like
Cause there all different sizes and I started
Putting mine at the top of the paper to make a sky. So I made my sky and um and ummm and and umm all of the big stars were one side
All the little stars were on the other side and I thought about showing my mom cause she showed me the north star
One time
And
And I
Was abot to finish with all my stickers and she came around with new stickers. I didn’t add the new stickers cause some people ripped them open. But she told us to save them and not to open them cause we had to go home and do the same thing. With the stickers she gave. And then we were gonna bring that back to class next Tuesday.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
She who taught me.
We were never blood related but we were connected at the soul.
I never really had a faith of my own but I always thought I wanted one.
I spent every summer at church camp but I was always to preoccupied with boys so I never though much of faith.
This year, my parents decided to let my brother drive my sister and I up.
I was in the car.
I read the message.
My eyes filled with tears and my brother immediately pulled over.
I had starting dancing when I was three but it never was anything of importance to me. My mom forced me to go so I did it. I never noticed how much I loved it until I met her. She taught me how much I loved to dance. She taught me what a role model was. She taught me.
The only thing the message read was this “Danica died last night”.
In that moment everything around me stopped making sense and couldn’t have possibly been real.
She was only 22.
I was only 17.
We had known each other for years, but in the past 2 she had taken me under her wings. She was the first person to believe in me and make me understand how to believe in myself. She recognized how much I loved to dance before I even knew it.
My parents and I decided it was best for me to go to camp for the next week and they’d pick me up early for her funeral if it was necessary.
The next week was a blur because nothing around me actually made any sort of sense.
But for the first time in my life, I actually understood what faith was about.
We started teaching together the following year.
Danica moved me to all the advance dance levels.
She was who I wanted to be, but more importantly she was my friend.
Faith started to become about love, strength, and comfort for me.
I prayed for these things everyday for the next year.
I dance for these things still today.
After she was gone she kept teaching me.
I wouldn’t be dancing without her.
I wouldn’t be who I am without her.
I find faith in inspiration.
I find faith every time I dance.
I find faith every time I create.
I find faith every time I remember her.
I never really had a faith of my own but I always thought I wanted one.
I spent every summer at church camp but I was always to preoccupied with boys so I never though much of faith.
This year, my parents decided to let my brother drive my sister and I up.
I was in the car.
I read the message.
My eyes filled with tears and my brother immediately pulled over.
I had starting dancing when I was three but it never was anything of importance to me. My mom forced me to go so I did it. I never noticed how much I loved it until I met her. She taught me how much I loved to dance. She taught me what a role model was. She taught me.
The only thing the message read was this “Danica died last night”.
In that moment everything around me stopped making sense and couldn’t have possibly been real.
She was only 22.
I was only 17.
We had known each other for years, but in the past 2 she had taken me under her wings. She was the first person to believe in me and make me understand how to believe in myself. She recognized how much I loved to dance before I even knew it.
My parents and I decided it was best for me to go to camp for the next week and they’d pick me up early for her funeral if it was necessary.
The next week was a blur because nothing around me actually made any sort of sense.
But for the first time in my life, I actually understood what faith was about.
We started teaching together the following year.
Danica moved me to all the advance dance levels.
She was who I wanted to be, but more importantly she was my friend.
Faith started to become about love, strength, and comfort for me.
I prayed for these things everyday for the next year.
I dance for these things still today.
After she was gone she kept teaching me.
I wouldn’t be dancing without her.
I wouldn’t be who I am without her.
I find faith in inspiration.
I find faith every time I dance.
I find faith every time I create.
I find faith every time I remember her.
Peer Review
Brandon: For your post about a monotonous job, you did a great job at introducing it. Your tone really conveyed how easily the job was done and what lack of effort you needed to even be successful at it. The blog starting going in a new direction near the end. I appreciated the interesting details but I would have loved for you to stick with the boring. You did a great job writing about graphic novels. I felt very limited by this writing so I was super impressed with how interesting you made this prompt. great work.
Chelsee: For the prompt about your job, I appreciate that you started with your clothing. Immediately it sets us up to see you as doing the same thing over and over. You continued to write about the actual job and it became clear how ingrained the tasks are in your mind. This really made the job and your relationship with it seem monotonous. While writing about graphic novels, I'm glad you related it to your life. It is a topic I know little about so I didn't know what to do with it. Great job at making a topic more distant from you relative.
Leena: I loved how you used sounds to describe your job. This made me really feel as if I was there. You really set the scene so that the audience could feel personally invested. I would have loved to hear more about what you do, but at the same time leaving out the details really captured how mindless the job is. For your post about graphic novels, I agree with you 100%. I just don't really get into them and you really captured my own attitude (more than I did). I really enjoyed your posts this week
Chelsee: For the prompt about your job, I appreciate that you started with your clothing. Immediately it sets us up to see you as doing the same thing over and over. You continued to write about the actual job and it became clear how ingrained the tasks are in your mind. This really made the job and your relationship with it seem monotonous. While writing about graphic novels, I'm glad you related it to your life. It is a topic I know little about so I didn't know what to do with it. Great job at making a topic more distant from you relative.
Leena: I loved how you used sounds to describe your job. This made me really feel as if I was there. You really set the scene so that the audience could feel personally invested. I would have loved to hear more about what you do, but at the same time leaving out the details really captured how mindless the job is. For your post about graphic novels, I agree with you 100%. I just don't really get into them and you really captured my own attitude (more than I did). I really enjoyed your posts this week
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Prompt 49: graphics
Graphic novel writing is really something I have very little knowledge on but still find to be a great medium of writing. I think that it is extremely effective in writing a memoir as shown in Blankets by Craig Thompson and Pyongyang by Guy Delisle. In fact when really looking at it, graphic novels may be a better medium for writing memoirs because of what illustrations can offer the author.
Thompson and Delisle both used the graphics as an opportunity to transfer back and forth from the characters minds and the actual happenings around them. It seems as though the visuals that the illustrations offer make it easy for the writer to capture not just what the character is thinking or doing but also how they are seeing things. Since we live in such a visually stimulated world, these illustrations really give use new insight into a persons mind.
Another thing about graphic novels is how the author uses writing. Language is transformed because they don’t have to invest as much in describing a scene. This is particularly clear in Thompsons writing because he uses illustrations to set the scene and writing to just describe it briefly. For example, he writes “patches of white were swallowed up the till of the field” which is accompanied by an illustration. The picture set the scene and the language aided in capturing the characters emotion. By doing this Thompson showed what the character saw and then how he saw it. This technique really is a huge advantage that graphic artists have.
Overall, graphic novels really offer completely different literary techniques than other forms of writing. It gives the author not just the opportunity to describe a scene but also to show a scene. In terms of writing a memoir, this opens up the authors ability to show the scene and then capture the characters interpretation of it. This tool in itself is what make graphic novels and good means of writing a memoir.
Thompson and Delisle both used the graphics as an opportunity to transfer back and forth from the characters minds and the actual happenings around them. It seems as though the visuals that the illustrations offer make it easy for the writer to capture not just what the character is thinking or doing but also how they are seeing things. Since we live in such a visually stimulated world, these illustrations really give use new insight into a persons mind.
Another thing about graphic novels is how the author uses writing. Language is transformed because they don’t have to invest as much in describing a scene. This is particularly clear in Thompsons writing because he uses illustrations to set the scene and writing to just describe it briefly. For example, he writes “patches of white were swallowed up the till of the field” which is accompanied by an illustration. The picture set the scene and the language aided in capturing the characters emotion. By doing this Thompson showed what the character saw and then how he saw it. This technique really is a huge advantage that graphic artists have.
Overall, graphic novels really offer completely different literary techniques than other forms of writing. It gives the author not just the opportunity to describe a scene but also to show a scene. In terms of writing a memoir, this opens up the authors ability to show the scene and then capture the characters interpretation of it. This tool in itself is what make graphic novels and good means of writing a memoir.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
over : Prompt 45
hey guys. so I steered off the course of the prompt. I wanted to write about a piece I choreographed (which is a non paying job) because it is a job that actually changed me. I spent nearly a year on the piece, so this is just a glimpse of what happened. Writing is a huge part of my process, so I went back into my journal and inserted little parts I wrote over the span of that year.
The job was far from mundane, boring, monotonous but not nearly exciting. It required an obscene amount of work and the ability to dive deep into my own thought process.
I have come to a cross road in my piece. I wanted to integrate over stimulation as the means of drowning in my piece but I am uncertain how to approach that or convey it clearly to the audience. I know that breathe will be key and really allowing it to move me. I need to be consumed with breathe, let the breathe over stimulate the body.
I wanted to do a project on societies drowning in over stimulation. Everywhere I look people are plugged in to something. Its as though people in my generation don’t even know what existence outside of stimulation is as we have become entirely consumed in it.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the structure of the piece. Where it starts and where it ends and at what point balance becomes apart of the piece. I feel the piece should begin already drowning, seeing as our society is continuously drowning in over stimulation. There is no real start or end to the piece, it needs to convey a never ending problem. Then comes to euphoria. When someone drowns they reach a state of euphoria. I don’t know how this transition will occur. I think that can only be discovered as the process unfolds allowing creation to happen. The audience may discover their own understanding of this, I may not be present in this decision.
It had been 5 months since the seed had been planted in my brain. I was starting to understanding the process of creating a work and what it means to be honest about that process. It wasn’t about me or my commentary on over stimulation, it was about the piece being created. the funny thing I’ve been noticing is how unnoticed over stimulation goes. It’s almost as if it’s non existent, when in reality it basically consumes the world we live in. a never ending series of distractions.
Eileen Standley became my mentor and she changed my life forever. I wanted to involve the audience without forcing them to participate. She made me realize that it is not about just representing over stimulation in the body, but about over stimulating the space. If the space becomes over stimulated, the audience will be naturally be apart of this process. I feel like my process is overcoming me, rather than me overcoming the process. I am somehow lost in it, in a sense I am drowning with no euphoria in sight. I am overwhelmed with doubt, I am fearful of what will come next. I have over stimulated myself my creating this piece. I am starting to drown in the work.
The piece has since been performed. On top of nearly a journal full of writing, there have been endless hours spent in the studio generating movement. I created a structured improvisational score that could take three pages to type out. This piece was some of the hardest work that I have done and it is far from finished. It is a process, a never ending, always going, process.
The job was far from mundane, boring, monotonous but not nearly exciting. It required an obscene amount of work and the ability to dive deep into my own thought process.
I have come to a cross road in my piece. I wanted to integrate over stimulation as the means of drowning in my piece but I am uncertain how to approach that or convey it clearly to the audience. I know that breathe will be key and really allowing it to move me. I need to be consumed with breathe, let the breathe over stimulate the body.
I wanted to do a project on societies drowning in over stimulation. Everywhere I look people are plugged in to something. Its as though people in my generation don’t even know what existence outside of stimulation is as we have become entirely consumed in it.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the structure of the piece. Where it starts and where it ends and at what point balance becomes apart of the piece. I feel the piece should begin already drowning, seeing as our society is continuously drowning in over stimulation. There is no real start or end to the piece, it needs to convey a never ending problem. Then comes to euphoria. When someone drowns they reach a state of euphoria. I don’t know how this transition will occur. I think that can only be discovered as the process unfolds allowing creation to happen. The audience may discover their own understanding of this, I may not be present in this decision.
It had been 5 months since the seed had been planted in my brain. I was starting to understanding the process of creating a work and what it means to be honest about that process. It wasn’t about me or my commentary on over stimulation, it was about the piece being created. the funny thing I’ve been noticing is how unnoticed over stimulation goes. It’s almost as if it’s non existent, when in reality it basically consumes the world we live in. a never ending series of distractions.
Eileen Standley became my mentor and she changed my life forever. I wanted to involve the audience without forcing them to participate. She made me realize that it is not about just representing over stimulation in the body, but about over stimulating the space. If the space becomes over stimulated, the audience will be naturally be apart of this process. I feel like my process is overcoming me, rather than me overcoming the process. I am somehow lost in it, in a sense I am drowning with no euphoria in sight. I am overwhelmed with doubt, I am fearful of what will come next. I have over stimulated myself my creating this piece. I am starting to drown in the work.
The piece has since been performed. On top of nearly a journal full of writing, there have been endless hours spent in the studio generating movement. I created a structured improvisational score that could take three pages to type out. This piece was some of the hardest work that I have done and it is far from finished. It is a process, a never ending, always going, process.
Peer Review
Brandon: Prompt 42 has been my favorite blog of yours so far. I love the details you used to describe each person. They were small, seemingly insignificant details that really captured the essence of who they were. I think your flow was strong and the story was captivating. For your next blog, I see where you were going but I think you knew you were missing pieces. Not actually witnessing genocide made it hard to write about, but you prefaced us with that so no one can hold it against you. Good work taking a risk and writing something you are passionate about.
Chelsee: for your blog on Hurt, what prompt was that? Sorry, I got confused. But I really enjoyed the poetic language you used to capture hurt. With something like this, I'm glad you took a more abstract route, it made the piece more powerful. For your next blog, I love that you are willing to be so vulnerable with your writing. I think this piece could be stronger if you threw in some poetic writing like you did with the previous blog. You are writing about something important and I think this will help people to relate more.
Leena: I think it is so great how you use personal experience to describe injustices in the world. I see this blog in two parts: part one is what you wrote, part two: a story where you are not personally invested in the story. I think writing the second part of that blog would push you in a new direction and offer new insight to the issue at hand. Overall, I enjoy the flow of your writing and your language choices. Your writing really comes across as an expression and an outlet.
Chelsee: for your blog on Hurt, what prompt was that? Sorry, I got confused. But I really enjoyed the poetic language you used to capture hurt. With something like this, I'm glad you took a more abstract route, it made the piece more powerful. For your next blog, I love that you are willing to be so vulnerable with your writing. I think this piece could be stronger if you threw in some poetic writing like you did with the previous blog. You are writing about something important and I think this will help people to relate more.
Leena: I think it is so great how you use personal experience to describe injustices in the world. I see this blog in two parts: part one is what you wrote, part two: a story where you are not personally invested in the story. I think writing the second part of that blog would push you in a new direction and offer new insight to the issue at hand. Overall, I enjoy the flow of your writing and your language choices. Your writing really comes across as an expression and an outlet.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
UNjustified eating
She ordered a burger and immediately changed her mind “You know what, actually I’ll have a small salad. With lemon as dressing”. She looks defeated at the idea of even thinking about a hamburger. When looking at her across the table, a hamburger seems like it would do her good. Her figure is smaller than petite without an inch of fat on it. It’s that tiny unitard she has to fit into this weekend that weighs heavy on her mind. A crash diet, if only for this one show, unable to acknowledge she performs every weekend. In fact, she often performs more than that. Her so called crash diet now consumes her lifestyle as she slowly withers away in her own body.
“I’ll have a number one, extra large. Can you put extra mayo on that? Oh yeah and 2 apple pies too.” with no hesitation, an order is placed. This isn’t the first number order made that day, in fact it just falls into a never ending series of meals. No longer needing to know the names of food all his orders come in numbers and sizes. Ingredients never seen to pass his mind and he orders each meal as though he hadn’t eaten in days. The objective of food is to fill not realizing that he is actually overfilled with nothing of value. His body continually grows as he slowly slips away into his own body.
Understanding of health is far from important as people find themselves completely unattached from themselves. As I look around I see a world in which no one needs to have a sincere attachment to their bodies. The imbalance of understanding goes from one extreme to the next and to gain knowledge seems more intangible than is fair. The world around seems to be waging war against their own bodies.
“I’ll have a number one, extra large. Can you put extra mayo on that? Oh yeah and 2 apple pies too.” with no hesitation, an order is placed. This isn’t the first number order made that day, in fact it just falls into a never ending series of meals. No longer needing to know the names of food all his orders come in numbers and sizes. Ingredients never seen to pass his mind and he orders each meal as though he hadn’t eaten in days. The objective of food is to fill not realizing that he is actually overfilled with nothing of value. His body continually grows as he slowly slips away into his own body.
Understanding of health is far from important as people find themselves completely unattached from themselves. As I look around I see a world in which no one needs to have a sincere attachment to their bodies. The imbalance of understanding goes from one extreme to the next and to gain knowledge seems more intangible than is fair. The world around seems to be waging war against their own bodies.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Mono tone. Prompt 42
She rolled out of bed to see nothing but a blank wall. Her cat was her only comfort. She peeled out of bed to slowly walked herself to the bathroom. She couldn’t find the toothpaste anywhere being half awake. It wasn’t where she had last left it.
Oh wait. It was. Funny what the mind does when one is half asleep.
As she walked back into her room her mind still didn’t need to work. It was morning, same repeatable routine as always.
She put on her make-up and her uniform and drove herself to work.
The monotony of work didn’t force her to use much effort. This allowed her to apply her energy towards things that actually mattered.
Headed home from work she wasn’t expecting much. The day had fallen as routine as many.
She looked left.
She looked right. And she froze.
Not to far from where she was looking but not clear enough for her to see.
He had been hit, or was that just..
It couldn’t have possibly.
The other car was gone faster then it even hit the person in front of her eyes.
She rushed out of her car to find a face faintly familiar.
A older version of a past friend. It had been years since the thought of his existence. The face had aged yet it was still so young.
Sirens raced in. people pushed them away.
Stuck somewhere in between the present and the past.
She falls.
Somewhere
Far from the certainty of her daily routine.
Oh wait. It was. Funny what the mind does when one is half asleep.
As she walked back into her room her mind still didn’t need to work. It was morning, same repeatable routine as always.
She put on her make-up and her uniform and drove herself to work.
The monotony of work didn’t force her to use much effort. This allowed her to apply her energy towards things that actually mattered.
Headed home from work she wasn’t expecting much. The day had fallen as routine as many.
She looked left.
She looked right. And she froze.
Not to far from where she was looking but not clear enough for her to see.
He had been hit, or was that just..
It couldn’t have possibly.
The other car was gone faster then it even hit the person in front of her eyes.
She rushed out of her car to find a face faintly familiar.
A older version of a past friend. It had been years since the thought of his existence. The face had aged yet it was still so young.
Sirens raced in. people pushed them away.
Stuck somewhere in between the present and the past.
She falls.
Somewhere
Far from the certainty of her daily routine.
Peer Review
Brandon: The picture placement in prompt 34 added a nice tone of color. I really found this blog rather intriguing as the expert seemed to have a useless expertise. You did a great job at bringing him to life and yet still I felt sympathy for him. The flow was nice and the language use was appropriate. For your idol blog, I like the direction you took it in. You commented on how society can build people up and tare them down. I would have liked to see a more personal correlation between you and your idol, this is something you can consider playing with. Overall, I loved the direction both your blogs went it.
Chelsee: Your wrapping blog showed that you really have skills. I adored the humorous title as well. I think since you choose not to interview someone, it would have been interesting if you went in more depth about your process, and what makes you stand out verses other wrappers. For the second blog, I am surprised you chose the President. You seem to have a strong connection with your family, but you went for something more impersonal. Still I think you made a valid argument and stuck to it. I told Brandon this too, but I would have liked to see a more personal connection with your idol.
Leena: I missed your writing again!
Chelsee: Your wrapping blog showed that you really have skills. I adored the humorous title as well. I think since you choose not to interview someone, it would have been interesting if you went in more depth about your process, and what makes you stand out verses other wrappers. For the second blog, I am surprised you chose the President. You seem to have a strong connection with your family, but you went for something more impersonal. Still I think you made a valid argument and stuck to it. I told Brandon this too, but I would have liked to see a more personal connection with your idol.
Leena: I missed your writing again!
Thursday, March 31, 2011
"Few are those who see with their own eyes and feel with their own hearts"-Albert Einstein
Being the youngest of four siblings basically trains you to have idols. I didn’t have just one person to look up to, but I had three. My oldest brother, Abe, is bold and creative. Andrew is charming and friendly. My sister Sarah is poised and caring. I grew up being overwhelmed by idols and it became was easy to lose sight of who I was. One thing for certain, I never had a fantasy about idols being perfect, I always knew they were flawed no matter how wonderful I felt they all were.
Abe is the oldest and the boldest. He’s never afraid to go after what he wants and will work until he accomplishes it. Studying art I am now submersed among creative minds, but I have never met someone as creative as Abe. From writing to music, he always finds ways to impress me with his creativity.
Andrew has always been the golden child. He was the quarterback of our high school football team and an overall stellar athlete. What I have always found myself admiring about Andrew is how much he cares. He’s good at things because he works hard to make them happen.
My sister and I were the closest when we were young. Mainly because we are only 18 months apart and were put in all the same activities. Still, I looked to her for each and every move that I would make. I spent a solid 8 years of my life pretending to be shy because I found that quality in her so endearing. Today, she is the only person who can completely balance me out. Being connected at the hip our entire lives made for a pretty strong bond.
As much as I still look up to all my older siblings today, I never thought they were perfect. What can be wrong with idolizing people is loosing sight of who you really are. I was looking up to so many people, I somehow got lost along the way. When I came to college, it was natural for me to look up to people, so I did the same with my friends. It wasn’t until one of my closest friends pointed out to me how much of myself I was missing out on. She doesn’t even remember that conversation, but in that moment, I knew I had to stop looking towards others and start looking towards myself. No matter how perfect or flawed idols may seem, I am still finding it is more important to discover my own perfections and imperfections.
Abe is the oldest and the boldest. He’s never afraid to go after what he wants and will work until he accomplishes it. Studying art I am now submersed among creative minds, but I have never met someone as creative as Abe. From writing to music, he always finds ways to impress me with his creativity.
Andrew has always been the golden child. He was the quarterback of our high school football team and an overall stellar athlete. What I have always found myself admiring about Andrew is how much he cares. He’s good at things because he works hard to make them happen.
My sister and I were the closest when we were young. Mainly because we are only 18 months apart and were put in all the same activities. Still, I looked to her for each and every move that I would make. I spent a solid 8 years of my life pretending to be shy because I found that quality in her so endearing. Today, she is the only person who can completely balance me out. Being connected at the hip our entire lives made for a pretty strong bond.
As much as I still look up to all my older siblings today, I never thought they were perfect. What can be wrong with idolizing people is loosing sight of who you really are. I was looking up to so many people, I somehow got lost along the way. When I came to college, it was natural for me to look up to people, so I did the same with my friends. It wasn’t until one of my closest friends pointed out to me how much of myself I was missing out on. She doesn’t even remember that conversation, but in that moment, I knew I had to stop looking towards others and start looking towards myself. No matter how perfect or flawed idols may seem, I am still finding it is more important to discover my own perfections and imperfections.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Denim Expert: Prompt 34
While looking for an expert on anything or perhaps everything, I ventured over to my neighbors to see if that had any knowledge to share. Much to my surprise, I was living next door to an expert on denim.
“Denim is currently having a great resurgence of unsanforized selvedge denim in the United States.” Ben explained to me. He must have been aware of the confusion on my face as he went on to explain
“Sanforizedation is the treatment of fabrics that helps retain shape and color after washing. Selvedge is type of weave that was originally woven to prevent fraying. It requires a specific loom and is usually marked by the hem which is either a blue or red line. It started in America in the 40s and 50s, just as a working mans pants that would last forever. It got popular among motorcycle riders because they would go through jeans so quickly. Levi had the first popular brand. Unsanforized selvedge wore really well, it has a natural elasticity it naturally fades and contours to your body shape. Soak your jeans and put them on when there a little wet and they’ll naturally form to your body. Non selvedge is cheaper to make and mass produce. Sewing machines allowed for this to happen, so Japanese were buying the old machines and refurbished them, The Japanese has perfected this American craft”
At this point I was quit impressed and overwhelmed my Ben’s knowledge on denim. A topic I had never even thought to explore. I can remember the days of going to the store and buying jeans that were already faded and wondering why new jeans were bought looking as though they’d been worn.
“People started wanted denim that faded because designers started making jeans that looked salvaged and selling them at a high price. When the reality is if you buy selvedge jeans you can create this look for yourself. Now Americans are making them and getting good at it once again.”
Now feeling inspirited to go purchase a pair of jeans that I can fade myself and make custom to my own body, I wondered where would someone purchase such a thing. Ben knew just the place.
“Roy Slaper is the man with the master plan. He makes his jeans, hand made. I have a pair that almost 200 wears and plan on going 400 without soaking them. I probably won’t ever wash them, only soak they when the elasticity of the jeans catches up so they fit too big. Roy Slaper denim comes from America, but cotton from Japan is the best (as well as the craftsmanship). But Roy is competing really well.”
It’s good to know that America sold its craft to only wish they hadn’t years later. Still it’s great to know that Roy Slaper is bringing back American denim. Overall, I was quit impressed with Ben’s ability to speak so expertly on a topic all while being so casual. Ben seems to reflect a good pair of Roy Slapers jeans, high is quality and casual in appearance.
A video of Roy Slaper:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b3guozBZyKE
“Denim is currently having a great resurgence of unsanforized selvedge denim in the United States.” Ben explained to me. He must have been aware of the confusion on my face as he went on to explain
“Sanforizedation is the treatment of fabrics that helps retain shape and color after washing. Selvedge is type of weave that was originally woven to prevent fraying. It requires a specific loom and is usually marked by the hem which is either a blue or red line. It started in America in the 40s and 50s, just as a working mans pants that would last forever. It got popular among motorcycle riders because they would go through jeans so quickly. Levi had the first popular brand. Unsanforized selvedge wore really well, it has a natural elasticity it naturally fades and contours to your body shape. Soak your jeans and put them on when there a little wet and they’ll naturally form to your body. Non selvedge is cheaper to make and mass produce. Sewing machines allowed for this to happen, so Japanese were buying the old machines and refurbished them, The Japanese has perfected this American craft”
At this point I was quit impressed and overwhelmed my Ben’s knowledge on denim. A topic I had never even thought to explore. I can remember the days of going to the store and buying jeans that were already faded and wondering why new jeans were bought looking as though they’d been worn.
“People started wanted denim that faded because designers started making jeans that looked salvaged and selling them at a high price. When the reality is if you buy selvedge jeans you can create this look for yourself. Now Americans are making them and getting good at it once again.”
Now feeling inspirited to go purchase a pair of jeans that I can fade myself and make custom to my own body, I wondered where would someone purchase such a thing. Ben knew just the place.
“Roy Slaper is the man with the master plan. He makes his jeans, hand made. I have a pair that almost 200 wears and plan on going 400 without soaking them. I probably won’t ever wash them, only soak they when the elasticity of the jeans catches up so they fit too big. Roy Slaper denim comes from America, but cotton from Japan is the best (as well as the craftsmanship). But Roy is competing really well.”
It’s good to know that America sold its craft to only wish they hadn’t years later. Still it’s great to know that Roy Slaper is bringing back American denim. Overall, I was quit impressed with Ben’s ability to speak so expertly on a topic all while being so casual. Ben seems to reflect a good pair of Roy Slapers jeans, high is quality and casual in appearance.
A video of Roy Slaper:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b3guozBZyKE
Peer Review
Brandon: For the blog written in two different perspectives, I was completely shocked by the third person perspective. I even had to read it twice. I appreciate that you created such a unique viewpoint for someone else. I would recommend elaborating more on perspective two, it was a little confusing. Also for this style of writing I would suggest making some longer sentences to create a stronger flow. However, in your second blog, great use of rhythm and flow. You captured the awkward situation not just through description but also through rhythm. It added a lot to this post, so great work.
Chelsee: For your perspective blogs, I love your subtle use of humor. The story wasn't lighthearted and humorous but you added moments of it. This really made an enjoyable read because you didn't overwhelm the audience with emotion. You could have focused on the feeling of anxiety, but I appreciate that you made light of it. In the prompt it asked us to really envision the other person perspective and I could really hear your voice in both of them. I know I did the exact same thing as well, but I wonder what we could do to capture the essence of someone else's voice.
Leena: There is something so poetic about your posts in first and third perspective. The sense of rhythm and flow was so wonderful and really swept me up into the story. Also, it's also a topic I can relate to, so I appreciated it. You could have written more on both perspectives, the story wasn't incomplete, but there could be more. I really enjoyed your second blog as well. You give the reader just enough to get lost in the story without being over bearing. I loved how Brittany came to life through dialogue rather than description. I also appreciated the relationship between the two characters and how they balanced each other out. One came to life through inner dialogue and the other through speaking, which in itself reflected the personality of both characters.
Chelsee: For your perspective blogs, I love your subtle use of humor. The story wasn't lighthearted and humorous but you added moments of it. This really made an enjoyable read because you didn't overwhelm the audience with emotion. You could have focused on the feeling of anxiety, but I appreciate that you made light of it. In the prompt it asked us to really envision the other person perspective and I could really hear your voice in both of them. I know I did the exact same thing as well, but I wonder what we could do to capture the essence of someone else's voice.
Leena: There is something so poetic about your posts in first and third perspective. The sense of rhythm and flow was so wonderful and really swept me up into the story. Also, it's also a topic I can relate to, so I appreciated it. You could have written more on both perspectives, the story wasn't incomplete, but there could be more. I really enjoyed your second blog as well. You give the reader just enough to get lost in the story without being over bearing. I loved how Brittany came to life through dialogue rather than description. I also appreciated the relationship between the two characters and how they balanced each other out. One came to life through inner dialogue and the other through speaking, which in itself reflected the personality of both characters.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
UNcomfortable place: Prompt 33
Hey guys! This is Thursday March 24th post. But I'll be out of town for a dance festival. I had to do all the work over Spring Break and Post it today. Just thought I'd let you know so you weren't confused!
“Now today we are launching something new an exciting”
After almost three years of working for a massive corporation, I know what this really means: we are going to make a series of unnecessary changes. This phrase I had heard at least three times a year, and I can promise you that each time something “exciting” was happening, I would have to go through a slew of new rules from a rulebook that was already massive. But I would politely nod my head, smile, and adapt.
Change is something I love, but rules are something that make a cringe. New rules adding on to a previous list of rules is something I’d rather not face. The real problem was me, I actually attempted to follow each guideline accurately as possible. This is not my preferred way of living, but I wanted to work to a decent promotion. Finally, all the rules weighed down on me and I fell into a place of complete discomfort.
The location I worked at would cycle through employees faster than you can imagine. Most people would last for a solid year, not many stay for a second, and hardly any stay for a third. The constant flow of people makes it impossible for someone to feel any ease during a shift, which is an unnecessary amount of stress for a college job. My last few months there, I encountered a micromanager. This was a dream for her boss, and a nightmare for her employees. If having a constant stream of customers to deal with wasn’t enough to think about, every time your fingers touched your face, she’d remind you to wash your hands. This combined with my own impulse to follow all the guidelines left with more than I can handle.
One would think that after being a devoted worker for so long you would gain more respect, but honestly I just found discomfort. Corporate anything allows for the treatment of each employee as waste. Being treated like waste isn’t something I enjoy all that much, so after having my fill I left this place of discomfort. Oddly enough, I found myself in a local coffee shop where homeless people sleep on couches and women with beards ask for water. Yet somehow, I find myself far more comfortable amongst all of these people then I did working for a corporation.
“Now today we are launching something new an exciting”
After almost three years of working for a massive corporation, I know what this really means: we are going to make a series of unnecessary changes. This phrase I had heard at least three times a year, and I can promise you that each time something “exciting” was happening, I would have to go through a slew of new rules from a rulebook that was already massive. But I would politely nod my head, smile, and adapt.
Change is something I love, but rules are something that make a cringe. New rules adding on to a previous list of rules is something I’d rather not face. The real problem was me, I actually attempted to follow each guideline accurately as possible. This is not my preferred way of living, but I wanted to work to a decent promotion. Finally, all the rules weighed down on me and I fell into a place of complete discomfort.
The location I worked at would cycle through employees faster than you can imagine. Most people would last for a solid year, not many stay for a second, and hardly any stay for a third. The constant flow of people makes it impossible for someone to feel any ease during a shift, which is an unnecessary amount of stress for a college job. My last few months there, I encountered a micromanager. This was a dream for her boss, and a nightmare for her employees. If having a constant stream of customers to deal with wasn’t enough to think about, every time your fingers touched your face, she’d remind you to wash your hands. This combined with my own impulse to follow all the guidelines left with more than I can handle.
One would think that after being a devoted worker for so long you would gain more respect, but honestly I just found discomfort. Corporate anything allows for the treatment of each employee as waste. Being treated like waste isn’t something I enjoy all that much, so after having my fill I left this place of discomfort. Oddly enough, I found myself in a local coffee shop where homeless people sleep on couches and women with beards ask for water. Yet somehow, I find myself far more comfortable amongst all of these people then I did working for a corporation.
First Person: Prompt 29
I grew up in a small town in southern Arizona. The people you meet in kindergarten are the people you graduate high school with, and by 5th grade most groups of friends have been formed. I was not so lucky. I spent elementary, middle, and most of high school wondering around and never really finding my nitch. By the time I was a junior in high school, I had given up on the friend quest and became content with my life.
Of course, that’s when things always change. I had know Alexis since kindergarten but we never really even spoke. I was with the nerds, and she was with the cool kids so our paths rarely intersected. But we both joined the dance team at our high school and we immediately clicked. We couldn’t be further from opposite. She was tough, straightforward, and never afraid to speak her mind. I was overly sensitive, too nice, and pretty nerdy. Together we balanced each other out and taught each other a lot about life. But it wasn’t just the two of us that bounded: her best friend since forever Jeff rounded out the group with his fun loving carefree attitude.
The three of us got really close really quickly. We had found such a perfect balance between us all. But when high school ended, things changed. As much as we all wanted to stay close, we all ended up in different parts of the country. Still I made time for both of them in my life. When Alexis told me she was getting married, I immediately saved the date so I could be there. Jeff and I talked and we were both ecstatic for her big day.
As the day got closer and closer, I started getting serious calls from both of them. Jeff called me about two weeks before the wedding to let me know he couldn’t make it. He was devastated and scared of how it would impact their friendship. I told him he needed to tell her immediately, but of course he put it off. A week before the wedding, Alexis called me enraged. I told her it was her day and he shouldn’t let him ruin it.
The wedding was beautiful. Jeff text me the entire time asking me for details, but Alexis told me not to tell him anything. I was afraid the three of us were coming to an end.
After the wedding, it only got worse. Alexis’s strong will and stubbornness made sure she’d never let him live this down. Jeff’s carefree attitude and forgetfulness made it difficult to make his remorse seem sincere. I have stayed good friends with both these people, but it was sad to see such a strong friendship come to an end.
Of course, that’s when things always change. I had know Alexis since kindergarten but we never really even spoke. I was with the nerds, and she was with the cool kids so our paths rarely intersected. But we both joined the dance team at our high school and we immediately clicked. We couldn’t be further from opposite. She was tough, straightforward, and never afraid to speak her mind. I was overly sensitive, too nice, and pretty nerdy. Together we balanced each other out and taught each other a lot about life. But it wasn’t just the two of us that bounded: her best friend since forever Jeff rounded out the group with his fun loving carefree attitude.
The three of us got really close really quickly. We had found such a perfect balance between us all. But when high school ended, things changed. As much as we all wanted to stay close, we all ended up in different parts of the country. Still I made time for both of them in my life. When Alexis told me she was getting married, I immediately saved the date so I could be there. Jeff and I talked and we were both ecstatic for her big day.
As the day got closer and closer, I started getting serious calls from both of them. Jeff called me about two weeks before the wedding to let me know he couldn’t make it. He was devastated and scared of how it would impact their friendship. I told him he needed to tell her immediately, but of course he put it off. A week before the wedding, Alexis called me enraged. I told her it was her day and he shouldn’t let him ruin it.
The wedding was beautiful. Jeff text me the entire time asking me for details, but Alexis told me not to tell him anything. I was afraid the three of us were coming to an end.
After the wedding, it only got worse. Alexis’s strong will and stubbornness made sure she’d never let him live this down. Jeff’s carefree attitude and forgetfulness made it difficult to make his remorse seem sincere. I have stayed good friends with both these people, but it was sad to see such a strong friendship come to an end.
Third Person: Prompt 29
We had been best friends since kindergarten. For as long as I can remember, I wanted to start my own family and he wanted to become a fashion photographer. By the young age of 20, he was living in New York following his dreams and I was about to get married. I couldn’t believe that after over 15 years of knowing each other, we both were fulfilling our dreams. But, realistically, our goals had pulled our lives in two entirely different directions and the last couple years had been hard on our friendship. Still, I couldn’t imagine getting married without him there.
“Jeff! I’m getting married!”
“Oh my goodness Alexis! I’m so excited. You know I wouldn’t miss it for the world. When is it?”
“It’s going to be June 16th!”
It was at least 6 months before the wedding when I told him of the date. As it got closer and closer, I begin to feel weary about his attendance. We haven’t talked because I was busy planning a wedding and he was busy taking photos in New York. A week before the wedding I received a text message that read:
Alexis, You know I love you more than anything in the world. But I won’t be able to attend your wedding. I can’t believe this is happening, but work just won’t let me off. I am so sorry. I know I have to make it up to you.
I’m not the type of person to get sad when someone lets me down. I’m the type of person to get pissed and drop them from my life. I called my other good friend Alyssa to tell her of the news.
“Alyssa, he’s not coming. Why am I even surprised! He does this all the time. And you know he didn’t even ask for work off until now! Trying to play the victim when he’s known forever. I’m done. I can’t put up with it anymore”
“Alex, I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say. He should be here for this. He knows how much it means to you”
My wedding day finally came and went. He called, asked to see pictures, even sent a present in the mail, but it just isn’t enough for me. For as long as we were inseparable, he finally hurt me too much for me to overcome.
“Jeff! I’m getting married!”
“Oh my goodness Alexis! I’m so excited. You know I wouldn’t miss it for the world. When is it?”
“It’s going to be June 16th!”
It was at least 6 months before the wedding when I told him of the date. As it got closer and closer, I begin to feel weary about his attendance. We haven’t talked because I was busy planning a wedding and he was busy taking photos in New York. A week before the wedding I received a text message that read:
Alexis, You know I love you more than anything in the world. But I won’t be able to attend your wedding. I can’t believe this is happening, but work just won’t let me off. I am so sorry. I know I have to make it up to you.
I’m not the type of person to get sad when someone lets me down. I’m the type of person to get pissed and drop them from my life. I called my other good friend Alyssa to tell her of the news.
“Alyssa, he’s not coming. Why am I even surprised! He does this all the time. And you know he didn’t even ask for work off until now! Trying to play the victim when he’s known forever. I’m done. I can’t put up with it anymore”
“Alex, I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say. He should be here for this. He knows how much it means to you”
My wedding day finally came and went. He called, asked to see pictures, even sent a present in the mail, but it just isn’t enough for me. For as long as we were inseparable, he finally hurt me too much for me to overcome.
Peer Review
Brandon: The dialogue blog had an intriguing juxtaposition. The content of the conversation was untreatable to me as a reader, however the relationship between the two people was very clear. It was clear that the two people involved had developed their own way of understanding each other. I loved your clear voice in the persuasion blog. It really felt like you were talking to the reader and working to persuade them. Your writing really has a strong personality with it. I think that is one of your strengths and you should keep working within that voice.
Chelsee: When I first glanced at your dialogue blog I thought, where is the dialogue? But as I started to read it, I really loved that you captured the dialogue of body language instead of just speaking. The story really came to life with the actions of the people, and the talking was secondary. I loved this. Still, I would challenge yourself to writing a blog with more speaking, I personally didn’t like it, but it was a fun challenge. For your persuasion blog I thought you had really strong arguments. You were clear with your points and had facts to prove them!
Leena: I missed your writing this week! Look forward to reading whatever you have next!
Chelsee: When I first glanced at your dialogue blog I thought, where is the dialogue? But as I started to read it, I really loved that you captured the dialogue of body language instead of just speaking. The story really came to life with the actions of the people, and the talking was secondary. I loved this. Still, I would challenge yourself to writing a blog with more speaking, I personally didn’t like it, but it was a fun challenge. For your persuasion blog I thought you had really strong arguments. You were clear with your points and had facts to prove them!
Leena: I missed your writing this week! Look forward to reading whatever you have next!
Thursday, March 10, 2011
The Art of Persuasion: Prompt 27
The art of persuasion can be mastered at a very young age. It is a skill that involves convincing someone to agree with your point of view. It comes in handy with advertising and arguments. However, over the years I have discovered the deceitful and harmful side of persuasion that may lead to the downfall of a person and society. Now I am attempting to help others understand the dark side of persuasion.
There are many reason one should not invest time in persuasion. Within this writing I will persuade you to never persuade again for the following three reason:
1.) it stunts creativity
2.) it’s unAmerican
3.) it requires a compromise of moral and ethical beliefs.
Creativity comes from ones ability to see the world through their own eyes. It allows individuals to make something out of nothing and turn something old into something new. Being creative takes work because of the continues elements of persuasion that surround the world that we live in. From advertising to scholarly essays, humans are constantly being exposed to the opinions of others. These opinions then manifest within our thought allowing subconscious alteration of creativity. Persuasion limits creativity which can potentially limit the capabilities of humans.
This stunting of creativity directly correlates with the stunting of free thought. Since the mind has already been limited in its creative exploration, humans have become unable to think for themselves. They are reliant on the thoughts and opinions of others and therefore can no longer think for themselves. Being in America where freedom is the greatest trend, persuasion is actually unAmerican. We should be supporting the freedom of thought, not forcing our society to be dependent on the thoughts of others.
If you have not yet decided that persuasion is wrong, there is one final point. Persuasion is morally and ethically wrong, as the persuader is directly putting forth effort in the manipulation of the persuaded. If one cannot understand that the act of manipulation is wrong they must realize what it feels like to be manipulated. It strips one from their own identity and causes them to conform for insincere reasons. It causes one to do things against their own will, all the while believing it was their choice. By teaching others to persuade, we are teaching others to manipulate which could be (and should be) against their moral code.
Overall, the art of persuasion is limiting the range of creativity, the American belief in freedom, and diminishing ethical responsibility. Clearly persuasion limits humanities ability to grow and people should now understand why persuasion is not the answer.
There are many reason one should not invest time in persuasion. Within this writing I will persuade you to never persuade again for the following three reason:
1.) it stunts creativity
2.) it’s unAmerican
3.) it requires a compromise of moral and ethical beliefs.
Creativity comes from ones ability to see the world through their own eyes. It allows individuals to make something out of nothing and turn something old into something new. Being creative takes work because of the continues elements of persuasion that surround the world that we live in. From advertising to scholarly essays, humans are constantly being exposed to the opinions of others. These opinions then manifest within our thought allowing subconscious alteration of creativity. Persuasion limits creativity which can potentially limit the capabilities of humans.
This stunting of creativity directly correlates with the stunting of free thought. Since the mind has already been limited in its creative exploration, humans have become unable to think for themselves. They are reliant on the thoughts and opinions of others and therefore can no longer think for themselves. Being in America where freedom is the greatest trend, persuasion is actually unAmerican. We should be supporting the freedom of thought, not forcing our society to be dependent on the thoughts of others.
If you have not yet decided that persuasion is wrong, there is one final point. Persuasion is morally and ethically wrong, as the persuader is directly putting forth effort in the manipulation of the persuaded. If one cannot understand that the act of manipulation is wrong they must realize what it feels like to be manipulated. It strips one from their own identity and causes them to conform for insincere reasons. It causes one to do things against their own will, all the while believing it was their choice. By teaching others to persuade, we are teaching others to manipulate which could be (and should be) against their moral code.
Overall, the art of persuasion is limiting the range of creativity, the American belief in freedom, and diminishing ethical responsibility. Clearly persuasion limits humanities ability to grow and people should now understand why persuasion is not the answer.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
talking in circles makes me dizzy: Promt 25
“You need to let me know. Either you want me in your life or not. But I can promise you this much, I can’t maintain a relationship like this one” I told him, trying to be as clear, direct, and honest as possible.
“What do you mean? you know…” blahblahblah. Some nonsensical indirect bullshit spills out of his mouth.
“No, stop it. I’m done. You’ve been playing this back and forth with me for years. One minute you’re my friend and the next you wanna be something more. Five minutes later you‘re talking about peanuts acting like it never happened.”
“What are you talking about?” The frustration in his voice begins to swell. “I haven’t been doing anything!”
“You know, this is exactly it, exactly what I’m trying to get you to understand. You can’t call me up one minute expecting me to hop into bed with you and act like nothing ever happened the next. I have no problems just being friends with you but you can’t keep fucking with my head”
“So, your not going to sleep with me then?” he says half serious and half kidding.
“ARE YOU SERIOUS?! Have you even been listening to a single word that I’ve said!” I’ve nearly reached my breaking point by now.
“Are you really moving to Chicago?” His thoughts avoiding the situation. A typical tactic of his
“Wait. What?” Simple confusion is what I am left with, a place I often find myself in conversations with him.
“Let me go with you.” he has that look. The one that tricks me every time into thinking something romantic may happen.
“Where is this even coming from?”
He just gives me that look…again…that grin…that sparkle in his eye. “You’re eyes are so beautiful”
“What the fuck” I say almost exploding into laughter.
“Why are you laughing at me?”
Feeling defeated I sigh “You know. I just don’t understand you. Every time we talk, you just lead me in circles. This conversation is going nowhere. Why can’t you ever just be direct with me?”
And so this endless battle of communicating nothing and talking in circles finally ends. It doesn’t literally end, but it was over for me. We spend the rest of the evening as we always do. Him trying to get in bed with me, me explaining that he’s just my friend and it won’t happen until he starts being direct with me. An endless argument in which we both are never honest about who we are or how we feel. He’s great at distractions and confusions that lead me nowhere. Until finally I just stopped responding to his calls, text messages, face book chats, etc. Years and years of going no where, starting no where, and leading no where conversations that made our friendship. Finally done.
“What do you mean? you know…” blahblahblah. Some nonsensical indirect bullshit spills out of his mouth.
“No, stop it. I’m done. You’ve been playing this back and forth with me for years. One minute you’re my friend and the next you wanna be something more. Five minutes later you‘re talking about peanuts acting like it never happened.”
“What are you talking about?” The frustration in his voice begins to swell. “I haven’t been doing anything!”
“You know, this is exactly it, exactly what I’m trying to get you to understand. You can’t call me up one minute expecting me to hop into bed with you and act like nothing ever happened the next. I have no problems just being friends with you but you can’t keep fucking with my head”
“So, your not going to sleep with me then?” he says half serious and half kidding.
“ARE YOU SERIOUS?! Have you even been listening to a single word that I’ve said!” I’ve nearly reached my breaking point by now.
“Are you really moving to Chicago?” His thoughts avoiding the situation. A typical tactic of his
“Wait. What?” Simple confusion is what I am left with, a place I often find myself in conversations with him.
“Let me go with you.” he has that look. The one that tricks me every time into thinking something romantic may happen.
“Where is this even coming from?”
He just gives me that look…again…that grin…that sparkle in his eye. “You’re eyes are so beautiful”
“What the fuck” I say almost exploding into laughter.
“Why are you laughing at me?”
Feeling defeated I sigh “You know. I just don’t understand you. Every time we talk, you just lead me in circles. This conversation is going nowhere. Why can’t you ever just be direct with me?”
And so this endless battle of communicating nothing and talking in circles finally ends. It doesn’t literally end, but it was over for me. We spend the rest of the evening as we always do. Him trying to get in bed with me, me explaining that he’s just my friend and it won’t happen until he starts being direct with me. An endless argument in which we both are never honest about who we are or how we feel. He’s great at distractions and confusions that lead me nowhere. Until finally I just stopped responding to his calls, text messages, face book chats, etc. Years and years of going no where, starting no where, and leading no where conversations that made our friendship. Finally done.
Bill T. Jones week is the best week: Prompt 22
It’s not often that people are given the chance to interact with someone who is great in their field of work. It’s even less often when that person looks you square in the face and gives you advice. Bill T. Jones is a world renounced choreographer who has made both commercial work and profound artistic work. He is one of (if not the) most sought after choreographers and still continues to grow as an artist. Last week, all the dance majors dubbed it Bill T. Jones week. His company just started an artist in residency program at Gammage so the entire week was filled with lectures, master classes, and everything Bill T. Jones. He is a very busy man so we spent most of the time interacting with various company members of his, but on Thursday he specifically came to speak to our department.
Everywhere I go I carry my journal with me in case a moment of inspiration or desperation occurs. Writing is an essential part of how I create and how I live. I love handwritten anything. Knowing that Bill T. Jones was coming to speak with us and has had such a successful career, I wanted to write down all the words of wisdom that may come out of his mouth. I wasn’t the only one with this thought, as the entire front row of dancers had pen and paper in hand. From the moment he walked in the room I was star struck. I wanted to know anything and everything that he had to offer. He has successfully accomplished my dream and I hoped to gain some great insight into making this happen for myself.
Bill T. Jones did nothing but impress me. He was narcissistic and humble all in one. He was bold and doubtful even through all of his success. Finally he was serious and humorous making for one captivating lecture. I have over two pages of insight that he gave me in that 30 minute lecture. At one point, while he was speaking he looked directly at me and said “I assume your taking notes for class..” still being star struck I shook my head and mumbled “no”. He took a step back, paused and said with surprise “wait, so you’re just taking notes for yourself?” Uncertain of what was to come next I muttered “yes”, he slowly walked away keeping his gaze directly at me and said “keep that pure spirit of investigation”. Although I am sure this moment is long since forgotten for him, this will forever be etched in my memory.
Everywhere I go I carry my journal with me in case a moment of inspiration or desperation occurs. Writing is an essential part of how I create and how I live. I love handwritten anything. Knowing that Bill T. Jones was coming to speak with us and has had such a successful career, I wanted to write down all the words of wisdom that may come out of his mouth. I wasn’t the only one with this thought, as the entire front row of dancers had pen and paper in hand. From the moment he walked in the room I was star struck. I wanted to know anything and everything that he had to offer. He has successfully accomplished my dream and I hoped to gain some great insight into making this happen for myself.
Bill T. Jones did nothing but impress me. He was narcissistic and humble all in one. He was bold and doubtful even through all of his success. Finally he was serious and humorous making for one captivating lecture. I have over two pages of insight that he gave me in that 30 minute lecture. At one point, while he was speaking he looked directly at me and said “I assume your taking notes for class..” still being star struck I shook my head and mumbled “no”. He took a step back, paused and said with surprise “wait, so you’re just taking notes for yourself?” Uncertain of what was to come next I muttered “yes”, he slowly walked away keeping his gaze directly at me and said “keep that pure spirit of investigation”. Although I am sure this moment is long since forgotten for him, this will forever be etched in my memory.
Peer Review
Hello new group!
Brandon: You have a very unique style of writing that makes my mind dart from one idea to the next. The flow of your writing is very straightforward and to the point as you write very distinctly and clearly. What is really interesting about this approach to writing is that is clear yet jagged. Each paragraph bounced from one thing to the next yet they all lied within the same topic. I think this is both a strength and a weakness. Sometimes I found myself a bit overwhelmed and had a hard time keeping up. But, it so clearly reflects your own personal experience allowing me to really feel apart of the confusion. I look forward to continue reading your writing.
Chelsee: For your first blog you had a very clear progression and flow. The story was easy to follow and the reader was able to grow with your experiences. Some of the sentences had an awkward flow with punctuation that may need revision. This is a personal weakness of mine, so it just stood out to me. I really enjoyed your second blog about working in the bookstore. I worked at the Starbucks there for awhile (a long while) so I am sure we has crossed paths. What I really appreciated about this blog is it was both informative and easy to read. You have a great sense of drawing the reader into your writing and making them feel apart of the experience! I look forward to keep reading your blog!
Leena: Your first blog about responsibility was able to distinctly follow the story as well as capture the emotional content of what was happening. Telling a story and adding emotion is difficult (especially without being overly emotional) but you accomplished this really well. The flow created the emotional confusion while the sentences told the story. For your second blog, I like how each little piece came together to create the overall tone of the place. You started with the building, moved to the people, and then did a mixture of both. The only feedback I feel I can give is to not be afraid to write more. Each of your blogs left me wanting just a little more and don't be afraid to go there! I look forward to continue reading your work!
Brandon: You have a very unique style of writing that makes my mind dart from one idea to the next. The flow of your writing is very straightforward and to the point as you write very distinctly and clearly. What is really interesting about this approach to writing is that is clear yet jagged. Each paragraph bounced from one thing to the next yet they all lied within the same topic. I think this is both a strength and a weakness. Sometimes I found myself a bit overwhelmed and had a hard time keeping up. But, it so clearly reflects your own personal experience allowing me to really feel apart of the confusion. I look forward to continue reading your writing.
Chelsee: For your first blog you had a very clear progression and flow. The story was easy to follow and the reader was able to grow with your experiences. Some of the sentences had an awkward flow with punctuation that may need revision. This is a personal weakness of mine, so it just stood out to me. I really enjoyed your second blog about working in the bookstore. I worked at the Starbucks there for awhile (a long while) so I am sure we has crossed paths. What I really appreciated about this blog is it was both informative and easy to read. You have a great sense of drawing the reader into your writing and making them feel apart of the experience! I look forward to keep reading your blog!
Leena: Your first blog about responsibility was able to distinctly follow the story as well as capture the emotional content of what was happening. Telling a story and adding emotion is difficult (especially without being overly emotional) but you accomplished this really well. The flow created the emotional confusion while the sentences told the story. For your second blog, I like how each little piece came together to create the overall tone of the place. You started with the building, moved to the people, and then did a mixture of both. The only feedback I feel I can give is to not be afraid to write more. Each of your blogs left me wanting just a little more and don't be afraid to go there! I look forward to continue reading your work!
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Prompt 21: Drinking and Observing
There’s this little bar I frequently find myself a visitor of. It’s plopped right in the middle of a neighborhood, tucked away from the row of bars known as Mill Ave.
A night on the town.
An escape from the masses on Mill.
Or what the neighborhood residents may call it: an evening in.
From sweats shirts to high heels, dressing up or dressing down are both readily accepted.
It’s often hard to keep track of all that is happening because there is such a wide variety of people indulging the many qualities offered. It’s like a good date: low-key, inexpensive, and care-free. No one has to be anyone but themselves, and free flowing conversation is something you can always find. My mind wonders from here to there,
“I can’t even begin to understand why someone can do that and feel no remorse”
I overhear from a table near by.
“I’m not comfortable in my own home anymore and now I just avoid common space when she’s home. Who can yell at a person for something relevantly irrelevant and be ok with themselves.”
Three roommates, seemingly regular visitors and living within the neighborhood discuss a roommate left at home
“Listen, I don’t understand her either. None of us do. But we’ve never gotten along with her before so I can’t imagine….”
I start to drift away from the conversation, only to notice the scene the bar has become. It hasn’t been newly remodeled for at least 15 years. The building use to be an old house but
is now a bar. It’s easy to see a slow progression of decorations created the atmosphere it is today. It’s a brick house decorated with wooden doors and tables. Regular cat’s wonder through unafraid to approach anyone there. The cats have made a home of this place, and it seems as though many people have too.
The bar is filled on a typical Wednesday night with an eclectic mix of drinkers. All shapes, sizes, trends, ethnicities. Whoever it may be, they all seem to feel welcome in the low key environment that has evolved over time. Everyone is welcome and they all take advantage of it. The smokers sit outside and without hesitation they go through cigarettes at about a pack per minute.
The coy pond offers entertainment with rumors of drunkards letting their urine somehow miss the toilet and land within the pond. The outside urinal allows for men to skip going inside on those drunken nights. From what I’ve heard, it’s similar to peeing in the coy pond, except a wooden gate offers privacy and the servers won’t have to escort you out.
My ears catch someone else. These folks seem to frequently attend, but not nearly as much as the others
“Awww. You guys just really give me hope for my whole situation. It seems as though love is in the air!”
Before you know it, I am distracted by a man lifting his shirt, exposing a tattoo that covers his entire back. But his front is towards me and I just see his pasty belly flop forward.
Next thing I know, the waitress arrives with the check. My mind has seen a wide display of events in such a simplistic place. From one drink to the next, this place offers a slew of events unfolding before your eyes.
A night on the town.
An escape from the masses on Mill.
Or what the neighborhood residents may call it: an evening in.
From sweats shirts to high heels, dressing up or dressing down are both readily accepted.
It’s often hard to keep track of all that is happening because there is such a wide variety of people indulging the many qualities offered. It’s like a good date: low-key, inexpensive, and care-free. No one has to be anyone but themselves, and free flowing conversation is something you can always find. My mind wonders from here to there,
“I can’t even begin to understand why someone can do that and feel no remorse”
I overhear from a table near by.
“I’m not comfortable in my own home anymore and now I just avoid common space when she’s home. Who can yell at a person for something relevantly irrelevant and be ok with themselves.”
Three roommates, seemingly regular visitors and living within the neighborhood discuss a roommate left at home
“Listen, I don’t understand her either. None of us do. But we’ve never gotten along with her before so I can’t imagine….”
I start to drift away from the conversation, only to notice the scene the bar has become. It hasn’t been newly remodeled for at least 15 years. The building use to be an old house but
is now a bar. It’s easy to see a slow progression of decorations created the atmosphere it is today. It’s a brick house decorated with wooden doors and tables. Regular cat’s wonder through unafraid to approach anyone there. The cats have made a home of this place, and it seems as though many people have too.
The bar is filled on a typical Wednesday night with an eclectic mix of drinkers. All shapes, sizes, trends, ethnicities. Whoever it may be, they all seem to feel welcome in the low key environment that has evolved over time. Everyone is welcome and they all take advantage of it. The smokers sit outside and without hesitation they go through cigarettes at about a pack per minute.
The coy pond offers entertainment with rumors of drunkards letting their urine somehow miss the toilet and land within the pond. The outside urinal allows for men to skip going inside on those drunken nights. From what I’ve heard, it’s similar to peeing in the coy pond, except a wooden gate offers privacy and the servers won’t have to escort you out.
My ears catch someone else. These folks seem to frequently attend, but not nearly as much as the others
“Awww. You guys just really give me hope for my whole situation. It seems as though love is in the air!”
Before you know it, I am distracted by a man lifting his shirt, exposing a tattoo that covers his entire back. But his front is towards me and I just see his pasty belly flop forward.
Next thing I know, the waitress arrives with the check. My mind has seen a wide display of events in such a simplistic place. From one drink to the next, this place offers a slew of events unfolding before your eyes.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
I am the type of person who would rather run 1,000 miles than take on any sort of responsibility. Responsibility leads to commitment and commitment makes me nauseous. To make it worse, I am the youngest of four and have had the opportunity to avoid responsibility for longer than most. I like the idea of waking up to the possibility of life unfolding in front of my eyes. What I have come to realize in my near 22 years of life, that is entirely impossible. I can’t live in a world where I don’t pay bills, don’t have to take care of myself, and can do as I please. I am responsible for more things than I like to admit and thinking about them makes me squirm.
For the past four years, my parents have, slowly but surely, been taking away their responsibilities of taking care of me so that I can take care of myself. To be quite honest, they didn’t have to try very hard because I fought for my independence. I started working when I started college, I got a scholarship to cover my tuition, and I took out loans to pay off the rest. But in the wake of my senior dance show (my final and biggest responsibility in college) I have come to realize I am truly responsible to make my life happen.
20,000 dollars in debt, no job, no place to go, and Ashbury Williams (my cat). The worst part of it all, I gave all of this responsibility to myself. My “wanting to take each day as it comes” has left me unprepared and nervous. I don’t think that I am experiencing anything more than what most seniors in college face, but it is more responsibility than I am ready to take on, or know how to take on for that matter.
I want to be a choreographer. I want to create great art and be apart of great art. That is my life’s responsibility to achieve, and I have not even the slightest clue how to make it happen. I feel as though a truly responsible person would have some sort of plan of action to make all of this happen, but, like I’ve said before, responsibility is not my strength. Being irresponsible has lead responsibility to crash in on me. I can only hope that my inability to be responsible will lead me to finding my way to something.
Here's a photo of my cat. He's just cute.
For the past four years, my parents have, slowly but surely, been taking away their responsibilities of taking care of me so that I can take care of myself. To be quite honest, they didn’t have to try very hard because I fought for my independence. I started working when I started college, I got a scholarship to cover my tuition, and I took out loans to pay off the rest. But in the wake of my senior dance show (my final and biggest responsibility in college) I have come to realize I am truly responsible to make my life happen.
20,000 dollars in debt, no job, no place to go, and Ashbury Williams (my cat). The worst part of it all, I gave all of this responsibility to myself. My “wanting to take each day as it comes” has left me unprepared and nervous. I don’t think that I am experiencing anything more than what most seniors in college face, but it is more responsibility than I am ready to take on, or know how to take on for that matter.
I want to be a choreographer. I want to create great art and be apart of great art. That is my life’s responsibility to achieve, and I have not even the slightest clue how to make it happen. I feel as though a truly responsible person would have some sort of plan of action to make all of this happen, but, like I’ve said before, responsibility is not my strength. Being irresponsible has lead responsibility to crash in on me. I can only hope that my inability to be responsible will lead me to finding my way to something.
Here's a photo of my cat. He's just cute.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Peer Review
Lindsey: My mouth was watering at the sounds of the marinara sauce and foreign taste you experienced in your trip abroad. This blog was very straight forward and to the point which is something I appreciated. It was an easy read and I was done in no time. I would challenge yourself to play with your form of writing with maybe a more poetic approach. Your blog about epilepsy was really interesting, especially with all the medical language you used. I think you should continue to write about these experiences. For this blog we were encouraged to allow the style of writing reflect the chaos of the situation and I would have liked to see that a bit more.
Jesse: In prompt 14, I really appreciated how you used the numbers to indicate different tid-bits at the end of the story. These facts actually is what made the story interesting and really captured your recipe. It reminded me a lot of my life, not knowing Spanish and too afraid to speak it. You used a different approach and I appreciate that risk. For your second blog, unflappable is now my favorite word. I was really surprised by the mans ear falling off. I would have liked to hear more about this, especially knowing you are rather skilled are writing intricate stories based on simplicity. That story was so interesting to me that the second part when you went to the hospital seemed misplaced. It was still great though.
Miranda: Keep writing. I really love your style. I missed reading your posts this week.
John: The recipe blog left me a little confused because of the flow of it. However, I didn't mind that at all, in fact it seemed appropriate. It was interesting how you revealed a lot of personal information in a very round about way. When you listed the recipes at the beginning, it really captured the monotony of eating the same thing over and over and over...I liked that it captured that essence, but reading all the recipes at once made my mind wonder. I would play with finding a way to keep intrigue and capture that monotony. Your so close to it! For your other blog, I'm surprised you hated it that much. I think it was more of you hating the moment you were stuck in than anything. I actually really enjoyed your reflection on being witness to just life. It was simple, easy to read, and honest. I've been there too though.
Jesse: In prompt 14, I really appreciated how you used the numbers to indicate different tid-bits at the end of the story. These facts actually is what made the story interesting and really captured your recipe. It reminded me a lot of my life, not knowing Spanish and too afraid to speak it. You used a different approach and I appreciate that risk. For your second blog, unflappable is now my favorite word. I was really surprised by the mans ear falling off. I would have liked to hear more about this, especially knowing you are rather skilled are writing intricate stories based on simplicity. That story was so interesting to me that the second part when you went to the hospital seemed misplaced. It was still great though.
Miranda: Keep writing. I really love your style. I missed reading your posts this week.
John: The recipe blog left me a little confused because of the flow of it. However, I didn't mind that at all, in fact it seemed appropriate. It was interesting how you revealed a lot of personal information in a very round about way. When you listed the recipes at the beginning, it really captured the monotony of eating the same thing over and over and over...I liked that it captured that essence, but reading all the recipes at once made my mind wonder. I would play with finding a way to keep intrigue and capture that monotony. Your so close to it! For your other blog, I'm surprised you hated it that much. I think it was more of you hating the moment you were stuck in than anything. I actually really enjoyed your reflection on being witness to just life. It was simple, easy to read, and honest. I've been there too though.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Recipe for Dance: the culture behind the art. Prompt 14
Part 1
1 creativity
2 parts submissive behavior
3 part being objectivity
2 parts individual artistry
Dance is a culture that requires one to creative, submissive, objective, and individualized. Wait, what? That makes no sense. How can one be required to shed their individual ways of expression and be apart of a group, all while developing themselves as a free thinking artist? This recipe makes no sense as it seems to lead me turning round and round in circles chasing something that exists no where else but in my own head. Or maybe all the turning has just left me dizzy. At this point, I can’t tell if the confusion is found in my body or my brain.
Part 2
4 parts taking care of your body
5 parts following an instructor
Dance class starts and we spend the first 20 minutes meditating so that we can listen to our bodies. “Be good to your body, and take care of it. This is your instrument, your paint brush, your means of expression”. What a lovely thought. But in this current moment my hip flexors hurts like hell, my shoulders have more knots than a rope, and I’m so exhausted I think I was sleeping instead of meditating. We than move into stretching, in which we lie on our backs with one leg raised to our side. I naturally attempt to extend my limbs further than seems acceptable in any other circumstance, and my body screeches in pain that I choose to ignore. But alas, this is not enough for the instructor as he walks up to me and lifts my leg until my knee is almost at my ear. Please explain to me how this involves taking care of my body?
Part 3
All parts balance
Center, core, pyramidalis, dan tien. Whatever you want to call it in which ever language seems most appropriate the key to balance is to breathe into your center. More importantly, balance is not a stationary position but instead a give and take of it all. Suddenly creativity, submissive behavior, being an objective, finding individual artistry, taking care of your body, and listening to one’s instructor all makes sense. The over aching, underlining, and final emphasis is the culture of dance is balance.
1 creativity
2 parts submissive behavior
3 part being objectivity
2 parts individual artistry
Dance is a culture that requires one to creative, submissive, objective, and individualized. Wait, what? That makes no sense. How can one be required to shed their individual ways of expression and be apart of a group, all while developing themselves as a free thinking artist? This recipe makes no sense as it seems to lead me turning round and round in circles chasing something that exists no where else but in my own head. Or maybe all the turning has just left me dizzy. At this point, I can’t tell if the confusion is found in my body or my brain.
Part 2
4 parts taking care of your body
5 parts following an instructor
Dance class starts and we spend the first 20 minutes meditating so that we can listen to our bodies. “Be good to your body, and take care of it. This is your instrument, your paint brush, your means of expression”. What a lovely thought. But in this current moment my hip flexors hurts like hell, my shoulders have more knots than a rope, and I’m so exhausted I think I was sleeping instead of meditating. We than move into stretching, in which we lie on our backs with one leg raised to our side. I naturally attempt to extend my limbs further than seems acceptable in any other circumstance, and my body screeches in pain that I choose to ignore. But alas, this is not enough for the instructor as he walks up to me and lifts my leg until my knee is almost at my ear. Please explain to me how this involves taking care of my body?
Part 3
All parts balance
Center, core, pyramidalis, dan tien. Whatever you want to call it in which ever language seems most appropriate the key to balance is to breathe into your center. More importantly, balance is not a stationary position but instead a give and take of it all. Suddenly creativity, submissive behavior, being an objective, finding individual artistry, taking care of your body, and listening to one’s instructor all makes sense. The over aching, underlining, and final emphasis is the culture of dance is balance.
Peer Review
hey guys! This weekend is my senior transition show. I choreographed 2 works and one is performed each night. I wanted to invite you all if you are interested in coming. Here is a link with more information:
Also here is a promotional video:
if you guys end up going, let me know.
Lindsey: From the start of this writing, I could tell as soon as you read the prompt, you knew you would be writing about this place. Throughout this piece you went in and out of using long descriptive sentences to short action sentences. This allowed for a really nice flow and made the action within the story really pop out. The descriptions were very vivid and captured not only the scenery, but the essence of the cabin. The only part of the story I could suggest to challenge yourself with is trying to write from a new perspective. Since the cabin is a place in your past, it would have been interesting to hear the story from your perspective back then. Maybe even go in and out of different perspectives. Overall, I though the story had a really nice flow that made for an enjoyable read.
Jesse: In your blog "it takes me forever to get anywhere" I was thoroughly surprised that the trip never happened, even though I knew that was the prompt. I got so swept up in the relationship between you and your sister, I forgot what the writing was about. I adore your use of language and how it captures the simple things with such honesty. For example, " From that day on I decided to manipulate people's perspectives, to seek camouflage in mediocrity, and to revel in lowered expectations." I just love this because it really captures how a sibling relationship can impact you. Superfly was simple and brilliant. The pictures really added to the overall humor of the story. I can't think of anything to correct you on. Your writing is wonderful.
Miranda: Are you a ceramics major? And are you describing the ceramics lab on campus? Two things: I live with a ceramics major and I have been there! You really captured the this place with your description. Your writing added a lot of subtle suspense which creates more intrigue for the reader. For your second blog, it really seems like you went there. It was a seamless description with a clear story, I didn't even think for a second that you hadn't gone. I really love the way you describe things because you aren't afraid to take risks with unique, nontraditional adjectives. The only thing that would really help me as a reader is if you put the prompt number next to your title. It was just help organizationally.
John: In your blog of a trip not taken, I really appreciate the approach you took in finding a place no one actually wanted to go. I would have never thought to take this prompt in that direction. The way you write is very rhythmic and vague, allowing for the reader to really feel as though we are inside your head. I felt as trapped as the writer, and am glad you never actually took this trip. In your post about the football fields, it brought me back to when I was a little girl watching my brother play football. I am glad this place exists for you and your family. What I appreciate about this blog is the optimism that sometimes is lost is your writing. Writing seems to be an outlet for you, which is wonderful, but it's nice to read something with a more upbeat voice as it captures a new side of your writing. The way you use punctuation sometimes confuses me, but other times adds to the flow. So I'm not sure if it's a critic or not, but it's just something to consider...or not. You have a strong voice of your own, so stick to your gut.
Also here is a promotional video:
if you guys end up going, let me know.
Lindsey: From the start of this writing, I could tell as soon as you read the prompt, you knew you would be writing about this place. Throughout this piece you went in and out of using long descriptive sentences to short action sentences. This allowed for a really nice flow and made the action within the story really pop out. The descriptions were very vivid and captured not only the scenery, but the essence of the cabin. The only part of the story I could suggest to challenge yourself with is trying to write from a new perspective. Since the cabin is a place in your past, it would have been interesting to hear the story from your perspective back then. Maybe even go in and out of different perspectives. Overall, I though the story had a really nice flow that made for an enjoyable read.
Jesse: In your blog "it takes me forever to get anywhere" I was thoroughly surprised that the trip never happened, even though I knew that was the prompt. I got so swept up in the relationship between you and your sister, I forgot what the writing was about. I adore your use of language and how it captures the simple things with such honesty. For example, " From that day on I decided to manipulate people's perspectives, to seek camouflage in mediocrity, and to revel in lowered expectations." I just love this because it really captures how a sibling relationship can impact you. Superfly was simple and brilliant. The pictures really added to the overall humor of the story. I can't think of anything to correct you on. Your writing is wonderful.
Miranda: Are you a ceramics major? And are you describing the ceramics lab on campus? Two things: I live with a ceramics major and I have been there! You really captured the this place with your description. Your writing added a lot of subtle suspense which creates more intrigue for the reader. For your second blog, it really seems like you went there. It was a seamless description with a clear story, I didn't even think for a second that you hadn't gone. I really love the way you describe things because you aren't afraid to take risks with unique, nontraditional adjectives. The only thing that would really help me as a reader is if you put the prompt number next to your title. It was just help organizationally.
John: In your blog of a trip not taken, I really appreciate the approach you took in finding a place no one actually wanted to go. I would have never thought to take this prompt in that direction. The way you write is very rhythmic and vague, allowing for the reader to really feel as though we are inside your head. I felt as trapped as the writer, and am glad you never actually took this trip. In your post about the football fields, it brought me back to when I was a little girl watching my brother play football. I am glad this place exists for you and your family. What I appreciate about this blog is the optimism that sometimes is lost is your writing. Writing seems to be an outlet for you, which is wonderful, but it's nice to read something with a more upbeat voice as it captures a new side of your writing. The way you use punctuation sometimes confuses me, but other times adds to the flow. So I'm not sure if it's a critic or not, but it's just something to consider...or not. You have a strong voice of your own, so stick to your gut.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
what a place is and how a place seems: Prompt 13
The border is often talked about with very little personal experience involved. It seems as though every politicians and person understands what is best here and what needs to be done to better it. What people often overlook is reality. Sure watching the news can give insight and ideas about what is occurring, but truly submersing oneself in the lifestyle and culture that comes with the border seems to be insignificant on being an expert.
I spent the first 18 years of my life living on the border. This place is my heritage, my home, and an essential element in who I am today. Often times my family and I would take drives into the abandon areas of the border that have generated such fear in the masses. To me, these places offered tranquility and peace of mind. The drive out there was unsettling to the stomach with a lack of paved roads or direction. Sometimes I feared my dad was driving aimlessly in the desert getting us lost with few resources. But really, I have been exposed to many fascist of the Arizona/ Mexico border that are untouched.
My favorite place takes about an hour of off road driving to find. The journey takes me on imaginary roads that wind round and round leaving me nauseous. I know we’re approaching when we see that massive white cross that seems to appear out of no where. It’s placed in the middle of the desert near the border. The exact location is unsure to me, but I can sense that place so distinctly in my mind. We always stop to not only feel our feet on the ground but to also explore the massive cross. There air is dry as the heat radiates through our feet. I can sense something familiarly unfamiliar to me. This place has generated so much chaos in the world and yet it is still so close to home to me. It beams of the Hispanic culture and the journey in which it takes to cross from one side to the other. As I travel a bit down the road I am faced with the metal rods that separate one country from another.
These rods seems pathetic once I encounter them face to face. I can’t quite understand how this “fence” that barely exists can bring upon death, tragedy, and political uproar. It’s not even a fence as it doesn’t even go past my waist. The scattered signs yield political warning of the trouble you may cause if you simply crawl under. A task so simple, yet somehow I don’t dare because of the fear that’s been instilled in my mind. Making the border tangible and real as opposed to a political agenda changes my understanding of it. It seems so silly to have created such fear and intimidation over something so simple standing in front of me.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Untaken Trip: Prompt 11
I didn't really connect with this blog, but I always wanted to take a spontaneous trip alone, and have yet to do it.
I was ready to go and I didn’t care where I was going. It didn’t matter what it would take to get there, but I knew I was going.
There wasn’t a minute to wait.
He dropped me off at the airport and said he wished he could go, but the truth is, I didn’t want him there. I told him I’d call him when I figured out where I was going and I’d see him when I got back. So I walked up to the counter and asked the flight attendant “What’s the cheapest flight available and how soon do I leave.”
Colorado Springs is where I find myself now. A state covered in snow that most people travel to with the intent of participating in winter sports, but I wasn’t skiing or snowboarding or doing anything of the kind. In fact, I had no intention other than to escape my life for a brief moment in time and sooth the never ending thoughts that flood my mind. I took a spontaneous trip to submerse myself in a new environment in the hopes of getting a grasp on my reality.
I find myself hiking Waldo Canyon, a place I never knew existed until about 20 minutes ago. I chose the hike about as randomly as I chose the location to fly into. The chill of the winter takes my breathe away but the powdery snow puts a smile on my face. This weather is in complete contrast to the sunny winters of Phoenix, and that's exactly what I needed. I want my mind to match the calm, falling snow that surrounds me, but it is still filled with thoughts I left behind. I continue to walk down this pathway and I am starting to doubt why I came here. I mean sure the beauty is unheard of and the scenery is refreshing, but still I am walking through a forest by myself. I take a moment, sit down, and breathe.
It is in this moment I realize why I am here. To sit, on this rock, in the middle of this forest, and breathe. I look up only to see trees that stretch to the skies gently covered in snow. The mountains never end and they are covered in trees, snow, and beauty. The simple reality is this: to calm my mind, I needed a moment to escape into the forest and watch the snow gently fall.
I was ready to go and I didn’t care where I was going. It didn’t matter what it would take to get there, but I knew I was going.
There wasn’t a minute to wait.
He dropped me off at the airport and said he wished he could go, but the truth is, I didn’t want him there. I told him I’d call him when I figured out where I was going and I’d see him when I got back. So I walked up to the counter and asked the flight attendant “What’s the cheapest flight available and how soon do I leave.”
Colorado Springs is where I find myself now. A state covered in snow that most people travel to with the intent of participating in winter sports, but I wasn’t skiing or snowboarding or doing anything of the kind. In fact, I had no intention other than to escape my life for a brief moment in time and sooth the never ending thoughts that flood my mind. I took a spontaneous trip to submerse myself in a new environment in the hopes of getting a grasp on my reality.
I find myself hiking Waldo Canyon, a place I never knew existed until about 20 minutes ago. I chose the hike about as randomly as I chose the location to fly into. The chill of the winter takes my breathe away but the powdery snow puts a smile on my face. This weather is in complete contrast to the sunny winters of Phoenix, and that's exactly what I needed. I want my mind to match the calm, falling snow that surrounds me, but it is still filled with thoughts I left behind. I continue to walk down this pathway and I am starting to doubt why I came here. I mean sure the beauty is unheard of and the scenery is refreshing, but still I am walking through a forest by myself. I take a moment, sit down, and breathe.
It is in this moment I realize why I am here. To sit, on this rock, in the middle of this forest, and breathe. I look up only to see trees that stretch to the skies gently covered in snow. The mountains never end and they are covered in trees, snow, and beauty. The simple reality is this: to calm my mind, I needed a moment to escape into the forest and watch the snow gently fall.
Peer Review
Lindsey: Your blog with the lyrics took a different directions than I had imagined! I appreciated how you replayed the evening alongside with each of the songs. Furthermore, each song contributed to a specific memory. Your writing is very clear, direct, and filled with descriptions. I would like to see you try a more abstract style, just something to play with and see what comes of it. Even if you end up not posting it, it's something new to try! The blog with the news story, really is a push for your writing and I like it! Although the story is so tragic, you really captured the drivers experience. I think this is one of my favorite posts from you.
Jesse: The flow of blog 9 was really eloquent. The whole thing was like reading a song and the flow was made clear through your use of italics and bold letters. I really loved moving in and out of your thoughts and your shift of perspective. I could be curious how it would flow without the distinct letters. The confusion could add a new tone. The lyric you chose is blog 8 was very appropriate. I enjoyed hearing your mothers story as your description made me feel as though I was actually there. I also appreciate your ability to point out mundane details in such an interesting manner. You should consider writing an entire blog that way.
Miranda: Your newsworthy blog was right up my alley. It genuinely scares me how disconnected our society has become from the food that we eat. Your writing in this blog surprised me because you stepped away from your normal poetic style. I think it would have been interesting if you wrote the blog from another perspective, although it may also be unnecessarily difficult. Either way, it was nice reading a new style from you. Your lyrics blog left a lot of open ends, but I feel it added to the overall tone of the piece. I like that the man remained a mystery and what lead you to that place also remained a mystery. I feel like listening to the song while reading the blog would have been more affective, but that was out of your control. Overall, I think your posts this week showed a different side of your writing.
John: In your Charlie Sheen blog you really captured the essence of who he is as a person. It is clear that he is someone you really admire and value. I am assuming the news story was based on him as a person, but I am honestly unclear. I feel the blog would have been more affective had I known exactly what the news story was. But overall, the style of writing matched the character being described. Within your lyric blog you captured the confusion and chaos of a relationship. I could really sense that confusion of loving who someone was, and hating who they are now. It was a very distinct tone and the lyrics reflected the situation nicely.
Jesse: The flow of blog 9 was really eloquent. The whole thing was like reading a song and the flow was made clear through your use of italics and bold letters. I really loved moving in and out of your thoughts and your shift of perspective. I could be curious how it would flow without the distinct letters. The confusion could add a new tone. The lyric you chose is blog 8 was very appropriate. I enjoyed hearing your mothers story as your description made me feel as though I was actually there. I also appreciate your ability to point out mundane details in such an interesting manner. You should consider writing an entire blog that way.
Miranda: Your newsworthy blog was right up my alley. It genuinely scares me how disconnected our society has become from the food that we eat. Your writing in this blog surprised me because you stepped away from your normal poetic style. I think it would have been interesting if you wrote the blog from another perspective, although it may also be unnecessarily difficult. Either way, it was nice reading a new style from you. Your lyrics blog left a lot of open ends, but I feel it added to the overall tone of the piece. I like that the man remained a mystery and what lead you to that place also remained a mystery. I feel like listening to the song while reading the blog would have been more affective, but that was out of your control. Overall, I think your posts this week showed a different side of your writing.
John: In your Charlie Sheen blog you really captured the essence of who he is as a person. It is clear that he is someone you really admire and value. I am assuming the news story was based on him as a person, but I am honestly unclear. I feel the blog would have been more affective had I known exactly what the news story was. But overall, the style of writing matched the character being described. Within your lyric blog you captured the confusion and chaos of a relationship. I could really sense that confusion of loving who someone was, and hating who they are now. It was a very distinct tone and the lyrics reflected the situation nicely.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Peeling back Layers: Prompt 8
I wrote this based on a solo I am setting on a dancer. The song has helped inspire the piece, and the movement comes from the topic of layers. With each section of the piece, the dancer reveals a new layer of herself. This is a scene that occurred in the studio. The song is White Blank Page by Mumford and Sons.
Can you lie next to hear and give her your heart, your heart? As well as your body, and
Her hand shakes before she places it on her check. You can sense the fear in her as she begins to reveal the most intimate layer she possesses. She looks as though she’s never touched her face before and the uncertainty swells, yet she persist in articulating each gesture with such grace. Slowly she embraces the back of her head, releasing her neck forward, causing a disruption in her poise as she stumbles backward with her hands grasping her stomach. For a brief moment, you think she may fall, but before you can complete your thought she’s back on her feet again. Her hand now holds a tense fists that peels across her chest that eventually falls to her side, shaking. The tension is still there only to intensify the intention. This can not come from anywhere but within and so quickly she has fallen on her hands and knees. She pauses.
Her white blank page and swelling rage. rage.
She’s patient. She waits. She doesn’t need to get up for anyone. And so, she takes her time slowly coming up. She faces you head on.
You did not think when you sent me to the brink. the brink.
She turns with her chest opening upward and the motion transfers to her leg gliding across the floor. Her tone isn’t the same, as the layer she’s revealed is no longer instilling a sense of fear anymore. No, its become something else. Something more. Her chest collapses forward only to ricochet back upward through her spine. She effortlessly floats one half of her body over the other as her feet barely leave the floor. She spins downward as she allows her body to collapse to the floor. This fall came not from weakness, but instead from control. She pauses. This time it isn’t long before she allows herself to get up and move, not for anyone, or anything, but simply for the essence of who she is.
Can you lie next to hear and give her your heart, your heart? As well as your body, and
Her hand shakes before she places it on her check. You can sense the fear in her as she begins to reveal the most intimate layer she possesses. She looks as though she’s never touched her face before and the uncertainty swells, yet she persist in articulating each gesture with such grace. Slowly she embraces the back of her head, releasing her neck forward, causing a disruption in her poise as she stumbles backward with her hands grasping her stomach. For a brief moment, you think she may fall, but before you can complete your thought she’s back on her feet again. Her hand now holds a tense fists that peels across her chest that eventually falls to her side, shaking. The tension is still there only to intensify the intention. This can not come from anywhere but within and so quickly she has fallen on her hands and knees. She pauses.
Her white blank page and swelling rage. rage.
She’s patient. She waits. She doesn’t need to get up for anyone. And so, she takes her time slowly coming up. She faces you head on.
You did not think when you sent me to the brink. the brink.
She turns with her chest opening upward and the motion transfers to her leg gliding across the floor. Her tone isn’t the same, as the layer she’s revealed is no longer instilling a sense of fear anymore. No, its become something else. Something more. Her chest collapses forward only to ricochet back upward through her spine. She effortlessly floats one half of her body over the other as her feet barely leave the floor. She spins downward as she allows her body to collapse to the floor. This fall came not from weakness, but instead from control. She pauses. This time it isn’t long before she allows herself to get up and move, not for anyone, or anything, but simply for the essence of who she is.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
week 2 Peer Review
Lindsey:
I really enjoyed your post about the kitchen. You really captured the essence of the scene as I felt I were actually standing right there too. Furthermore, the kitchen really came to life with the memories of the door open or closed. It seems so functional and fun all at the same time. Congratulations on a new addition to the family! This post captured the excitement, pain, and joy all that come with having a child. The pictures brought the scene to life. For the Lucky SOB blog, I appreciated how you used the punchline as the title. I still didn't anticipate the story to end that way. I enjoyed the rhythm of that blog and would play with that writing style in future posts.
Jesus: Your word choice always amazes me as it brings out such a unique side to the story. It truly is a character of its own. Your blog about your brother was such a simple memory with so much substance and intrigue due to your strong sense of word choice. The voice changed drastically when writing from someone else perspective. How did you manage that? I really struggle using different voices while writing. Question, do you go by Jesse? If so, I can call you that instead. In your kitchen blog, I laughed when you wrote "I'm not involved in drug trafficking". Such a subtle use of humor that really naturally flowed with the story. I also appreciate how you integrated the description of the kitchen into a story rather than just describing the place. Overall, I really am enjoying reading your blog.
Miranda: Writing from your dogs perspective really brought to life a lot of things about you. What a clever character to choose. You do an amazing job at capturing simple moments and bringing them to life. The dating game is absolutely hilarious. You brought the dad's character to life with his tough edge, and how that reflected on his daughter. Although the daughter remained silent, her presence was still clear. Furthermore, the edginess of the father reflects in the daughter by describing her as grunge. This creates a clear and distinct relationship. I'm simply terrible with grammar and you always catch me, any suggestions?
John: Your blog on prompt 6 tone really caught my attention. The character was so angry and unsettled all while being very clear and descriptive. It made me feel uncomfortable (in a good way) like I as actually got caught in the crossfire of an conversation I shouldn't be apart of. I adored the voice used in this piece as a clear dialect came across. I loved the rawness of the kitchen blog. The relationship between mother and son is very distinct and clear here. In your fathers POV blog, almost brought me to tears. The use of questions created a definite tone and captured your message. Also, we aren't suppose to respond to this, but the blog about you is really great. I think repeating the same question over and over offered a lot of the overall flow of the story.
I really enjoyed your post about the kitchen. You really captured the essence of the scene as I felt I were actually standing right there too. Furthermore, the kitchen really came to life with the memories of the door open or closed. It seems so functional and fun all at the same time. Congratulations on a new addition to the family! This post captured the excitement, pain, and joy all that come with having a child. The pictures brought the scene to life. For the Lucky SOB blog, I appreciated how you used the punchline as the title. I still didn't anticipate the story to end that way. I enjoyed the rhythm of that blog and would play with that writing style in future posts.
Jesus: Your word choice always amazes me as it brings out such a unique side to the story. It truly is a character of its own. Your blog about your brother was such a simple memory with so much substance and intrigue due to your strong sense of word choice. The voice changed drastically when writing from someone else perspective. How did you manage that? I really struggle using different voices while writing. Question, do you go by Jesse? If so, I can call you that instead. In your kitchen blog, I laughed when you wrote "I'm not involved in drug trafficking". Such a subtle use of humor that really naturally flowed with the story. I also appreciate how you integrated the description of the kitchen into a story rather than just describing the place. Overall, I really am enjoying reading your blog.
Miranda: Writing from your dogs perspective really brought to life a lot of things about you. What a clever character to choose. You do an amazing job at capturing simple moments and bringing them to life. The dating game is absolutely hilarious. You brought the dad's character to life with his tough edge, and how that reflected on his daughter. Although the daughter remained silent, her presence was still clear. Furthermore, the edginess of the father reflects in the daughter by describing her as grunge. This creates a clear and distinct relationship. I'm simply terrible with grammar and you always catch me, any suggestions?
John: Your blog on prompt 6 tone really caught my attention. The character was so angry and unsettled all while being very clear and descriptive. It made me feel uncomfortable (in a good way) like I as actually got caught in the crossfire of an conversation I shouldn't be apart of. I adored the voice used in this piece as a clear dialect came across. I loved the rawness of the kitchen blog. The relationship between mother and son is very distinct and clear here. In your fathers POV blog, almost brought me to tears. The use of questions created a definite tone and captured your message. Also, we aren't suppose to respond to this, but the blog about you is really great. I think repeating the same question over and over offered a lot of the overall flow of the story.
Juxtaposition: Assignmnet 9
I wrote this blog from my perspective and my sisters perspective.
January 8th, 2011. A day I was already not looking forward too, that only became worse than I could have imagined. I had spent 4 years in college, just finished my semester of student teaching, and now I was forced to taking an exam that would certify me to be a teacher. I spent weeks studying for the exam but the study guides left me more confused than certain about the test I was about to take. I decided to head up to Tucson early and get in some last minute studying before the exam. Also, my adviser was up there so we decided to meet up and talk about what steps to take next for my career. We met at a Barnes and Noble and I was happy to see her. Our conversation was interrupted by an obscene amount of sirens passing by. I dismissed them as the sounds of the city and continued to enjoy our meeting.
“Prosecutors charged Jared L. Loughner, a troubled 22-year-old college dropout, with five federal counts on Sunday, including the attempted assassination of a member of Congress, in connection with a shooting rampage on Saturday morning that left six people dead and 14 wounded.” (Lacey).
They say you always just know. That somewhere in the depth of your heart you know when you meet that person. It took me 9 years to finally get the words out of my mouth. 9 years to admit nothing else seemed right. We didn’t want the conversation to end so we stayed up until 3:30 in the morning. I knew and he knew that in a few days I would be back in Tempe and he would be back in China. We’d have to wait another year until we saw each other, so we planned for Tucson the next day. Both our sisters we’re getting certified to be teachers, so we figured we’d buy them some celebratory drinks after they finished the exam. I went to bed feeling like the world was mine and nothing could bring me down.
“Special Agent Tony M. Taylor Jr, of the F.B.I. said in an affidavit that an envelope found in a safe in the home bore these handwritten words: ‘I planned ahead,’ ‘My assassination’ and ‘Giffords’” (Lacey).
I finally finished my exam and expected to feel relief but the news of Gabrielle Giffords shooting hit me so hard I thought I’d be knocked to the floor. The Barnes and Noble, where I met my adviser, was directly between the shooters house and the Safeway. The sirens I heard were the sounds of people rushing to save lives. I somehow found myself on the outskirts and in the middle of a tragedy. My sister was the first person I called, she had come up to Tucson and I was going to meet her at a restaurant on 4th ave. I was about to pull up to the restaurant when I heard a crash directly into my car and mother screeching at me at the top of her lungs. Thinking I had just killed her child, I immediately started to panic as this day was crashing in on me faster than I knew how to handle. Fortunately, The kid was fine and he so sweetly asked me “Did I hurt your car?” and the witnesses reassured me that I was not in the wrong since the kid had crashed his bike into me. Still, compiling all of the days events left me with no other option than to cry.
“An outpouring of grief was on display all over Tucson, where friends of the many victims joined complete strangers in lighting candles and offering tear-filled prayers” (Lacey).
I woke up that morning with a smile on my face. I was looking forward to the day ahead and was enjoying spending the break in my hometown. I turned on the tv to find the tragedy that occurred in Tucson and immediately yelled “Holy shit Dad! There was a shooting in Tucson!”. I spent the whole morning with this weird juxtaposition of emotions. The evening before left me speechless, the news on the tv hit close to home. On the drive up to Tucson, the shootings were a clear topic of conversation. When we finally got there, I could sense the distinct feelings of tragedy in the air, yet I still felt so giddy and nervous. We sat down, ate dinner, and waited for my sister to call. The waiter told us he couldn’t believe what had happened that day, and everywhere we turned we were reminded of the tragedy. When I finally heard from my sister, she was balling. She told me she was near the restaurant and wanted to head home immediately. I found her parked in an alley crying. I didn’t expect to say goodbye to him so soon, but I had to go home with my sister. What an unsettling way to say goodbye knowing it’d be a long time until we saw each other again.
“The documents also indicated that the suspect had previous contact with the congresswoman. Also found in the safe at Mr. Loughner’s home was a letter from Ms. Giffords thanking him for attending a 2007 ‘Congress on Your Corner’ event, like the one she was holding Saturday morning when she was shot” (Lacey).
Lacy, Marc. "Evidence Points to Methodical Planning." The New York Times. 9 Jan. 2011. Web. 31 Jan. 2011.
January 8th, 2011. A day I was already not looking forward too, that only became worse than I could have imagined. I had spent 4 years in college, just finished my semester of student teaching, and now I was forced to taking an exam that would certify me to be a teacher. I spent weeks studying for the exam but the study guides left me more confused than certain about the test I was about to take. I decided to head up to Tucson early and get in some last minute studying before the exam. Also, my adviser was up there so we decided to meet up and talk about what steps to take next for my career. We met at a Barnes and Noble and I was happy to see her. Our conversation was interrupted by an obscene amount of sirens passing by. I dismissed them as the sounds of the city and continued to enjoy our meeting.
“Prosecutors charged Jared L. Loughner, a troubled 22-year-old college dropout, with five federal counts on Sunday, including the attempted assassination of a member of Congress, in connection with a shooting rampage on Saturday morning that left six people dead and 14 wounded.” (Lacey).
They say you always just know. That somewhere in the depth of your heart you know when you meet that person. It took me 9 years to finally get the words out of my mouth. 9 years to admit nothing else seemed right. We didn’t want the conversation to end so we stayed up until 3:30 in the morning. I knew and he knew that in a few days I would be back in Tempe and he would be back in China. We’d have to wait another year until we saw each other, so we planned for Tucson the next day. Both our sisters we’re getting certified to be teachers, so we figured we’d buy them some celebratory drinks after they finished the exam. I went to bed feeling like the world was mine and nothing could bring me down.
“Special Agent Tony M. Taylor Jr, of the F.B.I. said in an affidavit that an envelope found in a safe in the home bore these handwritten words: ‘I planned ahead,’ ‘My assassination’ and ‘Giffords’” (Lacey).
I finally finished my exam and expected to feel relief but the news of Gabrielle Giffords shooting hit me so hard I thought I’d be knocked to the floor. The Barnes and Noble, where I met my adviser, was directly between the shooters house and the Safeway. The sirens I heard were the sounds of people rushing to save lives. I somehow found myself on the outskirts and in the middle of a tragedy. My sister was the first person I called, she had come up to Tucson and I was going to meet her at a restaurant on 4th ave. I was about to pull up to the restaurant when I heard a crash directly into my car and mother screeching at me at the top of her lungs. Thinking I had just killed her child, I immediately started to panic as this day was crashing in on me faster than I knew how to handle. Fortunately, The kid was fine and he so sweetly asked me “Did I hurt your car?” and the witnesses reassured me that I was not in the wrong since the kid had crashed his bike into me. Still, compiling all of the days events left me with no other option than to cry.
“An outpouring of grief was on display all over Tucson, where friends of the many victims joined complete strangers in lighting candles and offering tear-filled prayers” (Lacey).
I woke up that morning with a smile on my face. I was looking forward to the day ahead and was enjoying spending the break in my hometown. I turned on the tv to find the tragedy that occurred in Tucson and immediately yelled “Holy shit Dad! There was a shooting in Tucson!”. I spent the whole morning with this weird juxtaposition of emotions. The evening before left me speechless, the news on the tv hit close to home. On the drive up to Tucson, the shootings were a clear topic of conversation. When we finally got there, I could sense the distinct feelings of tragedy in the air, yet I still felt so giddy and nervous. We sat down, ate dinner, and waited for my sister to call. The waiter told us he couldn’t believe what had happened that day, and everywhere we turned we were reminded of the tragedy. When I finally heard from my sister, she was balling. She told me she was near the restaurant and wanted to head home immediately. I found her parked in an alley crying. I didn’t expect to say goodbye to him so soon, but I had to go home with my sister. What an unsettling way to say goodbye knowing it’d be a long time until we saw each other again.
“The documents also indicated that the suspect had previous contact with the congresswoman. Also found in the safe at Mr. Loughner’s home was a letter from Ms. Giffords thanking him for attending a 2007 ‘Congress on Your Corner’ event, like the one she was holding Saturday morning when she was shot” (Lacey).
Lacy, Marc. "Evidence Points to Methodical Planning." The New York Times. 9 Jan. 2011. Web. 31 Jan. 2011.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
The Ceramic Experience: Tales from CJR
I have to wake up at the ass crack of dawn, drive myself (along with some other students I honestly don’t care for) to Clarkdale Arizona. This isn’t my first time up there as I have been driving back and forth all break working with artist Don Reitz for a class. His work is beyond incredible and the experience has allowed me to really settle into my own way of creating. I have spent 8 days completely enthralled in my work and have accomplished more than I imagined I would. But this last trip I am dreading due to the annoyance my classmates and the immense amount of work that is involved in unloading the wood-fired kiln. Furthermore, all the collectors and big-wigs of ASU would be there watching us bust our butts and getting in our way, which overall just creates more irritation for me.
On the drive up I have at least 7 cigarettes just anticipating the joyous day ahead of me. From the moment I arrived I knew the small-talk , fake pleasantries, and false sense of community, was going to make my day just dandy. I had woken up at 6:30 so I could arrive by 9:15 and spent my time waiting 2 hours for 80 year old Don to wake up. When Don finally awoke, he decided that instead of us unloading the kiln, we would unload his daughters storage shed. What a surprise, how did Don know I wanted to wake up earlier than is right for man-kind and unload a shed that was completely unrelated to me. Not to mention the shed was filled with cinder-blocks and plywood. What an interesting way to challenge my artistic mind and a wonderful learning experience that I am paying $2,000 for. Well, at least I got free lunch out of it.
After lunch, I spent another 3 hours waiting around. Since I was allowed to smoke at Don’s studio I took a nice stroll (maybe more like 4 or 5 strolls) down the river to feed my nicotine addiction. Finally, a gigantic bus arrived with all those ASU collectors and big-wigs. Upon their arrival, they begin making speeches and I realize my ipod is blaring rock and roll music. I fight my way to towards the ipod so that I can unplug it and prevent anyone from noticing. I than realize, to the right of me is a Don Reitz, to my left is the curator of the ASU art museum. I have somehow managed to accidentally fight my way through the crowd and stand among of the big-wigs. Not to mention, there is a photographer taking photos of the event. So there I am, in all the press releases, after having 2 hours of sleep, a pack of cigarettes to myself, and spent a day of hard labor. Glad I am able to make a good impression.
On the drive up I have at least 7 cigarettes just anticipating the joyous day ahead of me. From the moment I arrived I knew the small-talk , fake pleasantries, and false sense of community, was going to make my day just dandy. I had woken up at 6:30 so I could arrive by 9:15 and spent my time waiting 2 hours for 80 year old Don to wake up. When Don finally awoke, he decided that instead of us unloading the kiln, we would unload his daughters storage shed. What a surprise, how did Don know I wanted to wake up earlier than is right for man-kind and unload a shed that was completely unrelated to me. Not to mention the shed was filled with cinder-blocks and plywood. What an interesting way to challenge my artistic mind and a wonderful learning experience that I am paying $2,000 for. Well, at least I got free lunch out of it.
After lunch, I spent another 3 hours waiting around. Since I was allowed to smoke at Don’s studio I took a nice stroll (maybe more like 4 or 5 strolls) down the river to feed my nicotine addiction. Finally, a gigantic bus arrived with all those ASU collectors and big-wigs. Upon their arrival, they begin making speeches and I realize my ipod is blaring rock and roll music. I fight my way to towards the ipod so that I can unplug it and prevent anyone from noticing. I than realize, to the right of me is a Don Reitz, to my left is the curator of the ASU art museum. I have somehow managed to accidentally fight my way through the crowd and stand among of the big-wigs. Not to mention, there is a photographer taking photos of the event. So there I am, in all the press releases, after having 2 hours of sleep, a pack of cigarettes to myself, and spent a day of hard labor. Glad I am able to make a good impression.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Week 1 Reflection
Lindsey: When I read your blog I feel as though I am apart of your actual life (not meant to be creepy) because you are so clear and distinct with your descriptions. I get the feeling that you write similar to the way that you talk, with clear descriptions and moments of humor. I enjoy when you describe your hometown by saying "we're known for rolling hills, vineyards, and Winona Ryder" because it makes it seem really like home. Your blog about your boyfriend made me feel as though I was falling in love and it is clear that there is a deep connection between you two, a true love story. Cold-gray stoned benches placed me right in that location with your clear imagery and attention to details. I could even imagine you sitting there working or just relaxing.
Jesus: Immediately upon reading your introduction you seem as though a truly interesting person with a unique background. This is not only clear with how you describe yourself, but also how you write. If you could include a song on your blog, that would be incredible. Music seems to be an essential part of who you are as a person, which is why I appreciate you including songs you listened to at the end of your blog. The song written portion about Nicole really captures the essence of how you connect to her as a person. What a unique way of capturing such a sincere relationship. Your final post of last week really showcases your talents as a writer. Honestly, I am envious of this trait. You have such a unique, distinct voice in your writing that seems to reflect you as a person.
Miranda: What a creative way of seeing yourself. Your writing points out such unique points within your walk of life that give a clear idea of you as a person. Not only are you describing what happens in your life, but also your way of seeing life. When describing your friend it seemed as though the rhythm or your writing also reflected that persons personality . This unique way of writing offers more for the reader and a deeper understanding of that person. When describing a place your focus on the people captures the essence of the restaurant. How you described the people in the setting truly captured the overall energy within the restaurant without even having to focus tangible details (even though you did that too).
Jesus: Immediately upon reading your introduction you seem as though a truly interesting person with a unique background. This is not only clear with how you describe yourself, but also how you write. If you could include a song on your blog, that would be incredible. Music seems to be an essential part of who you are as a person, which is why I appreciate you including songs you listened to at the end of your blog. The song written portion about Nicole really captures the essence of how you connect to her as a person. What a unique way of capturing such a sincere relationship. Your final post of last week really showcases your talents as a writer. Honestly, I am envious of this trait. You have such a unique, distinct voice in your writing that seems to reflect you as a person.
Miranda: What a creative way of seeing yourself. Your writing points out such unique points within your walk of life that give a clear idea of you as a person. Not only are you describing what happens in your life, but also your way of seeing life. When describing your friend it seemed as though the rhythm or your writing also reflected that persons personality . This unique way of writing offers more for the reader and a deeper understanding of that person. When describing a place your focus on the people captures the essence of the restaurant. How you described the people in the setting truly captured the overall energy within the restaurant without even having to focus tangible details (even though you did that too).
Kitchen
The kitchen has always been the most central part of my families activity. As we have grown older, my brother is a chief, my sisters boyfriend is a chief, and my mother is an excellent cook. Honestly, the kitchen in my adult life is far more interesting than my childhood as each person fights to be the head chief in the kitchen. Still, growing up in such a large family meant that each person had to be apart of the kitchen in some way. Each kid had to play a role so that the kitchen could come together and work smoothly. Here is a memory from my childhood (attempting to write it as though I were still that age).
My sister and I always wash the dishes. In fact my father bought us dish washing aprons in order to make it more fun for us. Although I don't actually like washing dishes, I am impressed by his attempt to make it fun. My mom always decorates her kitchen with three colors: white, navy blue, and yellow. The tile is all white, from the counter tops to the floor. The walls were decorated with navy blue china that was so high up I couldn't reach it if I tried. And somewhere in the kitchen is hidden yellow, either a yellow sunflower or a yellow teapot. The kitchen seems more like a place for my mother than for me, but still I am forced to help out somehow.
Every year, for Thanksgiving each of us has a dish to prepare. My brothers helps with the turkey, my sister makes pies with my mom, and I make mashed potatoes. I have been perfecting my secret recipe for years now and I must admit, even being so young, no one makes them better than me. Each year my mom sets it up for me and I climb up on a stool and mash the potatoes in that big orange bowl. I throw in all the butter, salt, and milk that anyone could ever possibly eat and mash it all together. It's surprisingly hard being so small, but still I am determined.
The potatoes are always the last thing to be finished. But while preparing them there is a lot of action happening to make sure the whole meal goes off smoothly. My mom is the center of the kitchen as she plays a role in everything that is being made. Each year, her and my brother get into some sort of argument because they both think they know best. Still, they always come to some sort of agreement in order to make the day enjoyable for everyone. Once everything is finally prepared, we set it out and begin to eat. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday even until today.
My sister and I always wash the dishes. In fact my father bought us dish washing aprons in order to make it more fun for us. Although I don't actually like washing dishes, I am impressed by his attempt to make it fun. My mom always decorates her kitchen with three colors: white, navy blue, and yellow. The tile is all white, from the counter tops to the floor. The walls were decorated with navy blue china that was so high up I couldn't reach it if I tried. And somewhere in the kitchen is hidden yellow, either a yellow sunflower or a yellow teapot. The kitchen seems more like a place for my mother than for me, but still I am forced to help out somehow.
Every year, for Thanksgiving each of us has a dish to prepare. My brothers helps with the turkey, my sister makes pies with my mom, and I make mashed potatoes. I have been perfecting my secret recipe for years now and I must admit, even being so young, no one makes them better than me. Each year my mom sets it up for me and I climb up on a stool and mash the potatoes in that big orange bowl. I throw in all the butter, salt, and milk that anyone could ever possibly eat and mash it all together. It's surprisingly hard being so small, but still I am determined.
The potatoes are always the last thing to be finished. But while preparing them there is a lot of action happening to make sure the whole meal goes off smoothly. My mom is the center of the kitchen as she plays a role in everything that is being made. Each year, her and my brother get into some sort of argument because they both think they know best. Still, they always come to some sort of agreement in order to make the day enjoyable for everyone. Once everything is finally prepared, we set it out and begin to eat. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday even until today.
Family Memory
Variation 1:
My Perspective:
I grew up in a family with 2 boys and 2 girls. The boys were the oldest and the girls were the youngest, in fact I am the baby. When boys are young they have a tendency to over indulge in playing pranks on their little sisters and my brothers were the masters at it. My sister and I were about 4 and 5 and had been locked in our room for hours playing barbies (a usual for us). I don't know when my brothers had the brilliant idea or when they posted the sign, but they decided to attempt and sell our room. Realistically this was not possible but as a four year old, I thought it could happen. So I left my room to go to the bathroom and come back to a sign on my door that says "Room for sale. See owners next door" (there room was immediately next to ours). I immediately got angry, angrier than I had ever been. I started yelling and screaming at them, ripped the sign off the door and ran to the living room to show my parents. My parents couldn't help but burst into laughter understanding the impossibility of my brothers selling my room. Still I was just utterly confused and couldn't understand why everyone was laughing. My memory from there is blurry and I am uncertain of what happened next. But I can assure you that even now my family loves to tell this story.
My fathers perspective:
I was watching tv in the living room. Finally a break from four young children as they are occupied with playing. I can't remember the last time my wife and I got some piece and quite in this house. Or had the opportunity to watch an entire tv show, movies are so far out of the question unless it involves a Disney character. Suddenly, Alyssa comes screeching into the living room with a piece of paper in her hands. She is beyond livid and I can't make out what she is trying to say underneath her crying. Sarah comes in after her and attempts to calm her down, while the boys come in immediately trying to defend themselves. Still I have no idea what exactly happened, but I am use to the boys doing something to the girls. At this point Alyssa has dropped the paper out of her hands, I pick it up and it reads "Room for sale. See owners next door". I can't help but burst into laughter, as my wife has the same reaction. The boys begin laughing too thinking they have gotten away with this ploy to anger the girls and I must admit, it was pretty clever. Still laughter may have not been the best reaction. After I am able to pull myself together, I calm Alyssa down and send the boys to bed. I didn't punish them for it, but I did try and convince them to stop playing pranks on the girl. To this day the boys still attempt to do so, but the girls have gotten a lot better at getting back at them.
My Perspective:
I grew up in a family with 2 boys and 2 girls. The boys were the oldest and the girls were the youngest, in fact I am the baby. When boys are young they have a tendency to over indulge in playing pranks on their little sisters and my brothers were the masters at it. My sister and I were about 4 and 5 and had been locked in our room for hours playing barbies (a usual for us). I don't know when my brothers had the brilliant idea or when they posted the sign, but they decided to attempt and sell our room. Realistically this was not possible but as a four year old, I thought it could happen. So I left my room to go to the bathroom and come back to a sign on my door that says "Room for sale. See owners next door" (there room was immediately next to ours). I immediately got angry, angrier than I had ever been. I started yelling and screaming at them, ripped the sign off the door and ran to the living room to show my parents. My parents couldn't help but burst into laughter understanding the impossibility of my brothers selling my room. Still I was just utterly confused and couldn't understand why everyone was laughing. My memory from there is blurry and I am uncertain of what happened next. But I can assure you that even now my family loves to tell this story.
My fathers perspective:
I was watching tv in the living room. Finally a break from four young children as they are occupied with playing. I can't remember the last time my wife and I got some piece and quite in this house. Or had the opportunity to watch an entire tv show, movies are so far out of the question unless it involves a Disney character. Suddenly, Alyssa comes screeching into the living room with a piece of paper in her hands. She is beyond livid and I can't make out what she is trying to say underneath her crying. Sarah comes in after her and attempts to calm her down, while the boys come in immediately trying to defend themselves. Still I have no idea what exactly happened, but I am use to the boys doing something to the girls. At this point Alyssa has dropped the paper out of her hands, I pick it up and it reads "Room for sale. See owners next door". I can't help but burst into laughter, as my wife has the same reaction. The boys begin laughing too thinking they have gotten away with this ploy to anger the girls and I must admit, it was pretty clever. Still laughter may have not been the best reaction. After I am able to pull myself together, I calm Alyssa down and send the boys to bed. I didn't punish them for it, but I did try and convince them to stop playing pranks on the girl. To this day the boys still attempt to do so, but the girls have gotten a lot better at getting back at them.
Monday, January 24, 2011
The Studio
The one place I spend the majority of my time is the dance studio. I go for at least two hours a day, weekends included. On busy days I can spend up to 8 hours in the studio. Each studio is unique and different but my favorite is the oldest, smallest, and dirtiest.
As I look around, the studio is packed with around 60 people taking a hip-hop class. Normally I spend time in here alone, but for today I have come to watch a class. The teacher, who I know, doesn't consider hip-hop her favorite style but you could never tell by watching her. She is a true performer as she stays completely committed and enthralled is her movement. The students are all new-comers to the art form and completely contrast in how they approach the class. There are the people in the front of the room fighting to be the best. The people in the middle, trying to find space to move in the over crowded room. The people in the back seem timid and scared of what may happen next. The class is loud, the room smells like dirty feet and sweaty bodies, and the temperature is boiling. It's as hot as Tempe on a summer day. Some people seem to notice me and are uncertain of what I am doing, some never ever noticed I entered the room. My favorite person to watch is the tiniest little girl dancing front and center. She awkwardly moves in her body like she's never even tried to dance before. To her, she doesn't even seem to notice her awkwardness as she does each movement full out and confident. I am envious of this trait. She doesn't care what people think or what she looks like, she works the movement like her life depended on it. I am so impressed by her confidence as it makes her shine even in her awkward approach.
As the class ends people scramble to check their cell phones immediately. There are so many people in there they have to wait just to get out of the room. Suddenly the studio becomes more familiar to me. The room is silent with just the buzzing of the air conditioning and the cracking of the building. No more blasting music or loud chatter. Just silence. The room is dusty and dirty and still has the musty smell of sweaty bodies. But still it feels like home to me. I spend time just looking at the random clutter, a podium for a professors, some outdated workout equipment , old chairs, and the loud blue curtains that covers the mirrors when wanted. This place is so comfortable for me. A place I can spend hours alone by myself. It is her that I have created entire pieces and spent even more time creating movement I just throw away. I can't imagine the last four years without having discovering this dinky old studio in the basement of a building.
MaryLane Porter... The first
MaryLane. Please do not call her Mary because she much prefers MaryLane, as made clear through her distinct introduction. "Hi, I'm MaryLane Porter. The first" as she laughs at her own introduction. I have never met an individual quite as unique as this one.
At the young age of 21 MaryLane has already started her own corporation. DAHT, standing for dancers and health together. Since I met her, my freshman year of college, she has had this ambition and has saw to it that it would happen. When I asked her a few days ago what she would do if it didn't work out she exclaimed "the way I see it, I will do anything to see that it happens. I know it may not always lead to the best life decisions, but I know it's what I am suppose to do". Her corporation focuses on bringing dance to the masses and helping them understand how it can benefit ones health both mentally and physically. She invests a lot of time with community work and helps others to learn how dance can save lives. Maybe not literally, but it sure can bring joy to almost anyone.
The three things that best describe MaryLane are: business casual, drive-in movies, and sugar. Whenever we attempt to go anywhere she asks "what should I wear?" and before anyone can answer she says "business casual?". Not that it would matter what we said because it's a guarantee that's what you'll find her in. Whenever she plans a night on the town, its a guarantee drive-in movies are at the top of her list. She can convince anyone and everyone to attend one with her. If it's a Harry Potter movie, you know the second she asks, you'll be going. I've never met someone with a sugar addiction like MaryLane. Anyone could win her heart with a cookie and the second you offer it to her, her face lights up like you just told her she won a million dollars. Once she gets on a sugar kick, there is nothing stopping her to satisfy her craving. She is constantly bringing cookies everywhere and she'll never tell what her secret ingredients are.
MaryLane and I connected because we both cam from small towns. She's from Ardmore Oklahoma and I'm from Rio Rico Arizona. We both have big dreams and small town hearts. This is what connects us down to our souls. Anyone who knows her can agree, you'll never meet anyone like MaryLane Porter... the first.
At the young age of 21 MaryLane has already started her own corporation. DAHT, standing for dancers and health together. Since I met her, my freshman year of college, she has had this ambition and has saw to it that it would happen. When I asked her a few days ago what she would do if it didn't work out she exclaimed "the way I see it, I will do anything to see that it happens. I know it may not always lead to the best life decisions, but I know it's what I am suppose to do". Her corporation focuses on bringing dance to the masses and helping them understand how it can benefit ones health both mentally and physically. She invests a lot of time with community work and helps others to learn how dance can save lives. Maybe not literally, but it sure can bring joy to almost anyone.
The three things that best describe MaryLane are: business casual, drive-in movies, and sugar. Whenever we attempt to go anywhere she asks "what should I wear?" and before anyone can answer she says "business casual?". Not that it would matter what we said because it's a guarantee that's what you'll find her in. Whenever she plans a night on the town, its a guarantee drive-in movies are at the top of her list. She can convince anyone and everyone to attend one with her. If it's a Harry Potter movie, you know the second she asks, you'll be going. I've never met someone with a sugar addiction like MaryLane. Anyone could win her heart with a cookie and the second you offer it to her, her face lights up like you just told her she won a million dollars. Once she gets on a sugar kick, there is nothing stopping her to satisfy her craving. She is constantly bringing cookies everywhere and she'll never tell what her secret ingredients are.
MaryLane and I connected because we both cam from small towns. She's from Ardmore Oklahoma and I'm from Rio Rico Arizona. We both have big dreams and small town hearts. This is what connects us down to our souls. Anyone who knows her can agree, you'll never meet anyone like MaryLane Porter... the first.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
assignment 1
Alyssa Beth Brown
Elizabeth
Named after both my Grandmas.
Alice and Beth.
Born and raised in Rio Rico Arizona.
A town that borders Mexico and America.
Seems as though I’ve always been split into two.
My family has two boys and two girls. The oldest are the two boys, The youngest are the two girls. I am the youngest of them all. My sister and I are only 18 months apart. Irish twins they say. She is my rock, the only one who sees me for exactly who I am.
After 18 years of feeling locked up in this tiny town, I moved to Tempe to study dance at ASU. I suppose dance could potentially be the most unstable career to pursue, but I couldn’t feel alive without it. I worry more than I should, I drink than I should, and I dance more than I should. None of which lead to the healthiest life, but, hell, I couldn’t be happier.
This past year I have decided that there is only purpose for me is to be apart of and to create great art. And I’m more scared than anyone could possibly imagine. You see, wanting to be submersed in art guarantees two things : instability and poverty. But after growing up on the border I have come to terms that neither of those are a guarantee in life.
I’m about to finish college, the day to be exact is May 3rd. The only things I’ve heard about graduating college are “I don’t know why I wanted to finish” and “The real world is much harder than you’re expecting”. Great… I can’t wait. But honestly I can’t. I intend on spending my summer in Europe (Brussels to be exact) dancing my ass off and looking for a job. Art seems to be found there and that’s just what I’m searching for.
I have a cat. I never imagined I’d be a cat lady at the prime age of 21. But I love Ashbury Williams (that’s his name) more than I love most things. Him and I match with our pale white coloring and blue eyes. I have 4 roommates (yes, that means 5 people live in my house) who will all agree that he is the coolest cat you’ve ever met.
I spend my days with girls (dance doesn’t appeal to many men) and my nights with boys (3 out of the 5 in the house are boys). We live in walking distance from the bars and we take advantage of it more than we should. Most of us have just finished college or are about to. So we’re all ready to embrace and enjoy life for exactly what it is.
Elizabeth
Named after both my Grandmas.
Alice and Beth.
Born and raised in Rio Rico Arizona.
A town that borders Mexico and America.
Seems as though I’ve always been split into two.
My family has two boys and two girls. The oldest are the two boys, The youngest are the two girls. I am the youngest of them all. My sister and I are only 18 months apart. Irish twins they say. She is my rock, the only one who sees me for exactly who I am.
After 18 years of feeling locked up in this tiny town, I moved to Tempe to study dance at ASU. I suppose dance could potentially be the most unstable career to pursue, but I couldn’t feel alive without it. I worry more than I should, I drink than I should, and I dance more than I should. None of which lead to the healthiest life, but, hell, I couldn’t be happier.
This past year I have decided that there is only purpose for me is to be apart of and to create great art. And I’m more scared than anyone could possibly imagine. You see, wanting to be submersed in art guarantees two things : instability and poverty. But after growing up on the border I have come to terms that neither of those are a guarantee in life.
I’m about to finish college, the day to be exact is May 3rd. The only things I’ve heard about graduating college are “I don’t know why I wanted to finish” and “The real world is much harder than you’re expecting”. Great… I can’t wait. But honestly I can’t. I intend on spending my summer in Europe (Brussels to be exact) dancing my ass off and looking for a job. Art seems to be found there and that’s just what I’m searching for.
I have a cat. I never imagined I’d be a cat lady at the prime age of 21. But I love Ashbury Williams (that’s his name) more than I love most things. Him and I match with our pale white coloring and blue eyes. I have 4 roommates (yes, that means 5 people live in my house) who will all agree that he is the coolest cat you’ve ever met.
I spend my days with girls (dance doesn’t appeal to many men) and my nights with boys (3 out of the 5 in the house are boys). We live in walking distance from the bars and we take advantage of it more than we should. Most of us have just finished college or are about to. So we’re all ready to embrace and enjoy life for exactly what it is.
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