Starting out my senior year taking college classes excited me but it was still nerve-wracking because I knew that these grades would be the start of my college transcript. My goals for this semester were to achieve an 85 or higher on every exam and to possibly get an “A” in the class. Those were unrealistic goals now that I look back because to attain high grades, I would have work for it. My goals should have been to commit most of time to studying and reviewing the lessons and concepts that I learned instead of complaining my way through the semester. In the end, I did not accomplish my goal because I abused my freedom to an extent that should have been restrained. It was only towards the end of the college classes that I buckled down and focused and got the grades I wanted. Unfortunately, I should have done that from the start.
Like many others, I struggle with time management and I procrastinate a lot. Recently, I’ve tried to eliminate some of the distractions at my house except for face book and I still had a difficult time focusing. Weeks ago I realized that it was my entire house that was a distraction because I was too comfortable in my room that anything and everything would be a distraction. I then began staying late at hunter college, studying and getting most of my work done and so far, it has worked so I have finally found my solution.
This past semester, I took college algebra 101 and geography and at different points, I struggled with both classes. I underestimated college algebra because I imagined it being somewhat similar to the high school algebra and I was completely wrong. In some aspects it was close but overall, it was a challenge. In the end, I may have received a “b” in that class. Geography class is headache in a bottle by itself. I found it extremely difficult to wrap my head around the information and the teacher was no help and that was when I realized I had to help myself. Eventually I gave up; I couldn’t understand it and I joined the class and their complaints.
In one year, I see myself attending a four year SUNY college beginning my nursing career. In five years, I see myself working at the ER in a hospital while continuing my education to become a doctor. In ten years, I see myself working as a cardiologist, travelling all over the world, helping third world countries. To achieve these goals, I need to be focused; I will have to find an efficient way to balance school, work, and free time. I will need to find other options than giving up because when I become a doctor, I can’t give up on my patients because it gets too hard. I will have to find a way to persevere and reach my goals.
I am unsure as to who I am as a writer because I feel that my writing is never understood the way I meant it to because I have a hard time putting my thoughts onto paper. I think it is important to be a successful writer because it gives you another way to express your ideas and thoughts; it gives off a good impression and helps you get better jobs. If I were to write a book, my skills of engaging the reader would be beneficial to me at that moment because I know people would want to read the book.
In fiction writing, I learned that you have to be a good liar which means that you have to be extremely convincing to make the reader believe what you have written. You also need to make the story relatable to the reader to have them interact with the book in certain ways. One of the most important things I learned in fiction writing is that it is necessary and acceptable to write shitty first drafts.
I can’t remember the actual name of the piece, but I know it was after reading chapter two. I wrote a short story using excessive descriptions and I loved writing that the most. It gave me a chance to combine words together into a form of prose rhythm and think outside of the box.
Some concepts that come easy to me are significant details and descriptive writing. Usually that’s where my writing flourishes because I love using adjectives to tell a story and it just comes natural for me. However, I have a hard time with subtext and putting my exact thoughts into words because it always comes out different on paper. I feel that I need to write more drafts and always carry my journal with me so that just in case a thought attacks my brain, I can write it down right away.
By the end of this year, the skills and lessons that were taught to be good fiction writing will benefit me every day through my college classes and applying to jobs. It also encourages me write about a real life event, and tweak almost every detail to transform it into good fiction. Also, through this pre-college program, I have had the advantage of knowing the effect of time management and studying at the last minute. I know that it will be necessary to study two weeks before my final so that I won’t need to stay up all night doing last minute studying.
This portfolio represents my creative abilities as a student, to transform lessons and concepts into actual work. As a person, this portfolio represents me to the fullest. All my writing reflects some personal aspect of me in them. I believe that all the writing on this portfolio is honest; it contains all aspects of my personality and the way I think through each work and it will continue.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Final Draft :title: shadow
“Hello, my name Angela and I am a former drug addict. Today, your teacher asked me to speak with you about the dangers of drugs and how it affects your body and manipulates the human thought. First, I will tell you a personal story that happened to me ten years ago.”
I hardly remember that night, it was cold and that late night shift lasted longer than usual. I remember being in the bathroom of an old auto mechanic shop on Broad Street looking into the half cracked mirror while I dabbed the last ounce of red shimmer on my used lips, took my panties off and put on my matching red strap up heels. I had one needle left and I shot up. I put my coat on and headed to the corner of 231st and Arc Avenue. I waited, it was a slow night, my lipstick was drying out and the constant flickering of lights in the cross only made it that much colder. An hour later, a black van slowly crept up by the curb and the window slowly came down.
“Mystic Angel”, he said
“Yeah that’s me” I said
“Come inside” he said
I went inside and the car and I could tell that the seat was new leather; he was a new client I thought. He drove off and stopped two blocks down, stuck his hand inside his jacket and pulled out a Las Vegas Police Department badge then stuck the chains on my hands. Although my heart was in bondage, I kicked, I screamed, I begged for him to let go. His head was faced forward and he remained silent.
The precinct was fifteen minutes away and I knew this was my last chance. It was never my fault, a shadow have been casted ever since my childhood days. The cold wind would always remind me how my mother made some of her own money. She would buy the nicest underwear and bras for me to make me presentable for my job. I was around thirteen when I started. At first she would go with me, to see how well I fit in, and then she would occasionally join me for overtime pay. During week days, I would only work from 10pm-1am and on weekends; I would work till 2a.m. Holidays were the busiest time for me; I barely had breaks and the pills my mom gave me to stay awake began to have a negative effect on me.
I struggled to open the door, but the officer came to escort me anyway. He walked behind me and pushed me forward considering my feet never wanted to leave the ground. I walked into the station as if I was crippled; I mumbled words and everyone looked at me with a raised eyebrow. I couldn’t imagine my life behind bars. With a quick move, I ran. I glided through the double doors. As I headed for the fire escape, I hit my head against the glass case and landed in front of a blurry mirror. I saw my reflection, she was much older and she just stood there. She didn’t have the same clothes I had but the face looked exactly like me; white and pale with grey eyes and a pointy nose. I struggled to get a better look. I tried wiping the mirror with the sleeve of my jacket but it got worse and my reflection began to fade. It was then, I knew.
They finally caught up to me and grabbed me up off the floor with the handcuffs still tightly holding me together. I turned my head slowly and the image was completely gone. A sigh of relief escaped through my lips as I walked to my cell with my head down.
For about two years, I stayed in rehab and luckily I was able to start school all over again and find a decent job. I see everyone has a different look on their face, what are your immediate reactions?
I hardly remember that night, it was cold and that late night shift lasted longer than usual. I remember being in the bathroom of an old auto mechanic shop on Broad Street looking into the half cracked mirror while I dabbed the last ounce of red shimmer on my used lips, took my panties off and put on my matching red strap up heels. I had one needle left and I shot up. I put my coat on and headed to the corner of 231st and Arc Avenue. I waited, it was a slow night, my lipstick was drying out and the constant flickering of lights in the cross only made it that much colder. An hour later, a black van slowly crept up by the curb and the window slowly came down.
“Mystic Angel”, he said
“Yeah that’s me” I said
“Come inside” he said
I went inside and the car and I could tell that the seat was new leather; he was a new client I thought. He drove off and stopped two blocks down, stuck his hand inside his jacket and pulled out a Las Vegas Police Department badge then stuck the chains on my hands. Although my heart was in bondage, I kicked, I screamed, I begged for him to let go. His head was faced forward and he remained silent.
The precinct was fifteen minutes away and I knew this was my last chance. It was never my fault, a shadow have been casted ever since my childhood days. The cold wind would always remind me how my mother made some of her own money. She would buy the nicest underwear and bras for me to make me presentable for my job. I was around thirteen when I started. At first she would go with me, to see how well I fit in, and then she would occasionally join me for overtime pay. During week days, I would only work from 10pm-1am and on weekends; I would work till 2a.m. Holidays were the busiest time for me; I barely had breaks and the pills my mom gave me to stay awake began to have a negative effect on me.
I struggled to open the door, but the officer came to escort me anyway. He walked behind me and pushed me forward considering my feet never wanted to leave the ground. I walked into the station as if I was crippled; I mumbled words and everyone looked at me with a raised eyebrow. I couldn’t imagine my life behind bars. With a quick move, I ran. I glided through the double doors. As I headed for the fire escape, I hit my head against the glass case and landed in front of a blurry mirror. I saw my reflection, she was much older and she just stood there. She didn’t have the same clothes I had but the face looked exactly like me; white and pale with grey eyes and a pointy nose. I struggled to get a better look. I tried wiping the mirror with the sleeve of my jacket but it got worse and my reflection began to fade. It was then, I knew.
They finally caught up to me and grabbed me up off the floor with the handcuffs still tightly holding me together. I turned my head slowly and the image was completely gone. A sigh of relief escaped through my lips as I walked to my cell with my head down.
For about two years, I stayed in rehab and luckily I was able to start school all over again and find a decent job. I see everyone has a different look on their face, what are your immediate reactions?
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
3rd Draft - Shadows
I hardly remember that night, it was cold and that late night shift lasted longer than usual. I remember being in the bathroom of an old auto mechanic shop on Broad Street looking into the half cracked mirror while I dabbed the last ounce of red shimmer on my used lips, took my panties off and put on my matching red strap up heels. I had one needle left and I shot up. I put my coat on and headed to the corner of 231st and Arc Avenue. I waited, it was a slow night, my lipstick was drying out and the constant flickering of lights in the cross only made it that much colder. An hour later, a black van slowly crept up by the curb and window slowly came down.
“Mystic Angel”, he said
“Yeah that’s me” I said
“Come inside” he said
I went inside and the car seat was new leather, he was a new client I thought. He drove off and stopped two blocks down, stuck his hand inside his jacket and pulled out a Las Vegas Police Department badge then stuck the chains on my hands. Although my heart was in bondage, I kicked, I screamed, I begged for him to let go. His head was faced forward and he remained silent.
The precinct was fifteen minutes away and I knew this was my last chance. It was never my fault, a shadow have been casted ever since my childhood days. The cold wind would always remind me how my mother made some of her own money. She would buy the nicest underwear and bras for me to make me presentable for my job. I was around thirteen when I started. At first she would go with me, to see how well I fit in, and then she would occasionally join me for overtime pay. During week days, I would only work from 10pm-1am and on weekends; I would work till 2a.m. I would get a vacation on some holidays depending on business that month.
I struggled to open the door, but the officer came to escort me anyway. He walked behind me and pushed me forward considering my feet never wanted to leave the ground. I walked into the station as if I was crippled; I mumbled words and everyone looked at me with a raised eyebrow. I couldn’t imagine my life behind bars. With a quick move, I ran. I glided through the double doors. As I headed for the fire escape, I hit my head against the glass case and landed in front of a blurry mirror. I saw my reflection, she was much older and she just stood there. She didn’t have the same clothes I had but the face looked exactly like me. I struggled to get a better look. I tried wiping the mirror with the sleeve of my jacket but it got worse and my reflection began to fade. It was then, I knew.
They finally caught up to me and grabbed me up off the floor with the handcuffs still tightly holding me together. I turned my head slowly and the image was completely gone. A sigh of relief escaped through my lips and walk to my cell with my head down.
“Mystic Angel”, he said
“Yeah that’s me” I said
“Come inside” he said
I went inside and the car seat was new leather, he was a new client I thought. He drove off and stopped two blocks down, stuck his hand inside his jacket and pulled out a Las Vegas Police Department badge then stuck the chains on my hands. Although my heart was in bondage, I kicked, I screamed, I begged for him to let go. His head was faced forward and he remained silent.
The precinct was fifteen minutes away and I knew this was my last chance. It was never my fault, a shadow have been casted ever since my childhood days. The cold wind would always remind me how my mother made some of her own money. She would buy the nicest underwear and bras for me to make me presentable for my job. I was around thirteen when I started. At first she would go with me, to see how well I fit in, and then she would occasionally join me for overtime pay. During week days, I would only work from 10pm-1am and on weekends; I would work till 2a.m. I would get a vacation on some holidays depending on business that month.
I struggled to open the door, but the officer came to escort me anyway. He walked behind me and pushed me forward considering my feet never wanted to leave the ground. I walked into the station as if I was crippled; I mumbled words and everyone looked at me with a raised eyebrow. I couldn’t imagine my life behind bars. With a quick move, I ran. I glided through the double doors. As I headed for the fire escape, I hit my head against the glass case and landed in front of a blurry mirror. I saw my reflection, she was much older and she just stood there. She didn’t have the same clothes I had but the face looked exactly like me. I struggled to get a better look. I tried wiping the mirror with the sleeve of my jacket but it got worse and my reflection began to fade. It was then, I knew.
They finally caught up to me and grabbed me up off the floor with the handcuffs still tightly holding me together. I turned my head slowly and the image was completely gone. A sigh of relief escaped through my lips and walk to my cell with my head down.
2nd Draft
She went to sleep that night, happy; expecting pancakes and sausages in the morning for the second time this year. Before Anna fell asleep, she said her prayers, climbed her way onto the bed and clutched her blanket tightly not allowing any cold air to enter in. Unfortunately, hours passed, and cold air was the least of her worries. She slowly turned, forced her right eyelid to open and a cold object pierced her temple and a raspy voice whispered,
“Don’t move or I’ll shoot”
“I have never been that still in my life, my brain froze but my heart kept beating. That was the only sound that made me realize that I was alive. I slept on my side that night, and that was how I laid for thirty minutes. He walked away from my bedside and began rummaging through the unpolished furniture searching like he misplaced something important.”
I hardly remember that night, it was cold and that late night shift lasted longer than usual. I remember being in the bathroom of an old auto mechanic shop on Broad Street looking into the half cracked mirror while I dabbed the last ounce of red shimmer on my used lips, took my panties off and put on my matching red strap up heels. I had one needle left and I shot up. I put my coat on and headed to the corner of 231st and Arc Avenue. I waited, it was a slow night and my lipstick was drying out. An hour later, a black van slowly crept up by the curb and window slowly came down.
“Mystic Angel”, he said
“Yeah that’s me” I said
“Come inside” he said
I went inside and the car seat was new leather, he was a new client I thought. He drove off and stopped two blocks down, stuck his hand inside his jacket and pulled out a Las Vegas Police Department badge then stuck the chains on my hands. I tried kicking my way out, I screamed and yelled, then I mention my daughter that’s home alone and he asked for the address.
“Don’t move or I’ll shoot”
“I have never been that still in my life, my brain froze but my heart kept beating. That was the only sound that made me realize that I was alive. I slept on my side that night, and that was how I laid for thirty minutes. He walked away from my bedside and began rummaging through the unpolished furniture searching like he misplaced something important.”
I hardly remember that night, it was cold and that late night shift lasted longer than usual. I remember being in the bathroom of an old auto mechanic shop on Broad Street looking into the half cracked mirror while I dabbed the last ounce of red shimmer on my used lips, took my panties off and put on my matching red strap up heels. I had one needle left and I shot up. I put my coat on and headed to the corner of 231st and Arc Avenue. I waited, it was a slow night and my lipstick was drying out. An hour later, a black van slowly crept up by the curb and window slowly came down.
“Mystic Angel”, he said
“Yeah that’s me” I said
“Come inside” he said
I went inside and the car seat was new leather, he was a new client I thought. He drove off and stopped two blocks down, stuck his hand inside his jacket and pulled out a Las Vegas Police Department badge then stuck the chains on my hands. I tried kicking my way out, I screamed and yelled, then I mention my daughter that’s home alone and he asked for the address.
First draft
I went to sleep that night, happy; expecting pancakes and sausages in the morning for the second time this year. Before I fell asleep, I said my prayers, climbed my way onto the bed and clutched my blanket tightly not allowing any cold air to enter in. Unfortunately, hours passed, and cold air was the least of my worries. I slowly turned, forced my right eyelid to open and a cold object pierced my temple and a raspy voice whispered
“Don’t move or I’ll shoot”
I have never been that still in my life, my brain froze but my heart kept beating. That was the only sound that made me realize that I was alive. I slept on my side that night, and that was how I laid for thirty minutes. He walked away from my bedside and began rummaging through the unpolished furniture.
“Don’t move or I’ll shoot”
I have never been that still in my life, my brain froze but my heart kept beating. That was the only sound that made me realize that I was alive. I slept on my side that night, and that was how I laid for thirty minutes. He walked away from my bedside and began rummaging through the unpolished furniture.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Character Profile Sheet
Basic Statistics
Name: Brandon Lewis
Age:16
Nationality: American, Panamanian
Socioeconomic Level as a child: Middle Class
Socioeconomic Level as an adult:
Hometown: Michigan
Current Residence: Queens
Occupation: Student
Income:
Talents/Skills: Dancer, Singer
Salary:
Birth order: Middle child
Siblings (describe relationship):baby sister(they rarely interact)
Spouse (describe relationship):none
Children (describe relationship):none
Grandparents (describe relationship):Extremely close with his grandparents
Grandchildren (describe relationship):none
Significant Others (describe relationship):none
Relationship skills: shy but talkative
Physical Characteristics: 5’8
Height:5’8
Weight: 140 pounds
Race: African American
Eye Color: brown
Hair Color: black
Glasses or contact lenses? None
Skin color: brown
Shape of Face: round
Distinguishing features: hairline, lips
How does he/she dress? Casual, straight jeans with a cardigan
Mannerisms: chivalrous
Habits: (smoking, drinking etc.) bites nails
Health: good health
Hobbies: video games, hanging out with friends and sleep is really important to him
Favorite Sayings: I don’t care
Speech patterns: southern accent and he stutters a little
Disabilities: none
Style (Elegant, shabby etc.):Average style
Greatest flaw: Extremely nice
Best quality: Sensitive, sweet
Intellectual/Mental/Personality Attributes and Attitudes
Educational Background:11th grade
Intelligence Level: aware, average intelligence
Any Mental Illnesses? Dyslexic
Learning Experiences:
Character's short-term goals in life: get through high school
Character's long-term goals in life: wherever life takes him, doesn’t have a plan
How does Character see himself/herself? Open-minded
How does Character believe he/she is perceived by others?
How self-confident is the character? From 1-10, maybe a 7
Does the character seem ruled by emotion or logic or some combination thereof? Emotion
What would most embarass this character? Talking about his learning disability
Emotional Characteristics
Strengths/Weaknesses:
Introvert or Extrovert? Introvert
How does the character deal with anger? Takes it out on his surroundings
With sadness? Ignores it
With conflict? Ignites it
With change? Abstains from change
With loss? Stay alone
What does the character want out of life? Wants to live alone or with his grandfather
What would the character like to change in his/her life? The people, then himself
What frightens this character? The future
What makes this character happy? Being alone and thinking to his self
Is the character judgmental of others? No
Is the character generous or stingy? Very generous
Is the character generally polite or rude? Generally polite
Spiritual Characteristics
Does the character believe in God? Believes that there is a higher power but doesn’t have a specific religion
What are the character's spiritual beliefs? Unsure
Is religion or spirituality a part of this character's life? Not exactly
If so, what role does it play?
What does this character want?? Need? Wish? Hope?
This character wants to escape from this complicate life that he lives right now. He wants to go away, alone and separated from the world so that he can figure out himself. Then after, he can try to understand life.
Name: Brandon Lewis
Age:16
Nationality: American, Panamanian
Socioeconomic Level as a child: Middle Class
Socioeconomic Level as an adult:
Hometown: Michigan
Current Residence: Queens
Occupation: Student
Income:
Talents/Skills: Dancer, Singer
Salary:
Birth order: Middle child
Siblings (describe relationship):baby sister(they rarely interact)
Spouse (describe relationship):none
Children (describe relationship):none
Grandparents (describe relationship):Extremely close with his grandparents
Grandchildren (describe relationship):none
Significant Others (describe relationship):none
Relationship skills: shy but talkative
Physical Characteristics: 5’8
Height:5’8
Weight: 140 pounds
Race: African American
Eye Color: brown
Hair Color: black
Glasses or contact lenses? None
Skin color: brown
Shape of Face: round
Distinguishing features: hairline, lips
How does he/she dress? Casual, straight jeans with a cardigan
Mannerisms: chivalrous
Habits: (smoking, drinking etc.) bites nails
Health: good health
Hobbies: video games, hanging out with friends and sleep is really important to him
Favorite Sayings: I don’t care
Speech patterns: southern accent and he stutters a little
Disabilities: none
Style (Elegant, shabby etc.):Average style
Greatest flaw: Extremely nice
Best quality: Sensitive, sweet
Intellectual/Mental/Personality Attributes and Attitudes
Educational Background:11th grade
Intelligence Level: aware, average intelligence
Any Mental Illnesses? Dyslexic
Learning Experiences:
Character's short-term goals in life: get through high school
Character's long-term goals in life: wherever life takes him, doesn’t have a plan
How does Character see himself/herself? Open-minded
How does Character believe he/she is perceived by others?
How self-confident is the character? From 1-10, maybe a 7
Does the character seem ruled by emotion or logic or some combination thereof? Emotion
What would most embarass this character? Talking about his learning disability
Emotional Characteristics
Strengths/Weaknesses:
Introvert or Extrovert? Introvert
How does the character deal with anger? Takes it out on his surroundings
With sadness? Ignores it
With conflict? Ignites it
With change? Abstains from change
With loss? Stay alone
What does the character want out of life? Wants to live alone or with his grandfather
What would the character like to change in his/her life? The people, then himself
What frightens this character? The future
What makes this character happy? Being alone and thinking to his self
Is the character judgmental of others? No
Is the character generous or stingy? Very generous
Is the character generally polite or rude? Generally polite
Spiritual Characteristics
Does the character believe in God? Believes that there is a higher power but doesn’t have a specific religion
What are the character's spiritual beliefs? Unsure
Is religion or spirituality a part of this character's life? Not exactly
If so, what role does it play?
What does this character want?? Need? Wish? Hope?
This character wants to escape from this complicate life that he lives right now. He wants to go away, alone and separated from the world so that he can figure out himself. Then after, he can try to understand life.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Journal 5
The hard covered books were the only things standing between life and death and her heavy breathing and sweaty palms were'nt much help. She slowly dropped to her knees and crawled to the other row where the books were even thicker and covered most of the shelves. It follwed her every move but five times faster. She was determined but her heart and mind were slowly deteriorating every second she found a new hiding place. She stumbled to a corner where lights dimmed every half second and it drowned her with nervousness. The timer finally hit zero and the truth choked her till death.
Monday, October 11, 2010
In Media Res -Journal 3
Phillip, the engineer grabbed the two bottles of martini that stood attractively next to him and drank his problems away to death. The next day, Flight 29 landed on the greenest grasses in New Zealand by accident carrying 329 passengers. With phillip to blame for not ensuring that there was enough fuel in the tank, everyone faces turned upside down and they filled the plane with tears. Suddenly, a dark skinned man, with no muscles and sea blue overalls on walked up to the pilot and said "I can fix this". The pilot asked for his name and he pointed to his crooked name tag that said "Eric, pool cleaning services". Eventually, after all awkwardness was finished, he climbed onto the back of the plane and poured two different types of cleaning agent that made the engine restart and the plane continued its journey.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Rough Draft 2
Smithdale, New Hampshire, a small town with explosive trees and molded green leaves that stole the little sunshine we would ever receive, narrow roads that held only one street light per block, dim personalities that left everyone neighbor-less was where I was placed my entire life. I lived on 666 meadow drive next to an old abandoned warehouse that was taken over by spider webs and vultures. That house and I became best friends in a short period of time. Whenever I approached my house, dark red daffodils that slept on the ground, crooked pavements that looked welcoming and the horrid smell of uncut grass all greeted me. In many ways I felt I belonged there because it reflected my barbaric appearance. I had angry, dark brown curls that had a mind of its own, intelligent eyes with long lashes, a small nose, chapped lips and big ears. My appearance simply reflected my dark, desolate and dull neighborhood. Eventually, by the age of 14, I accepted my looks and understood that those were the reasons I walked alone for three years in high school. I was a hurricane, I stole the smiles off faces, dampened days with a downpour of rain and that was one of the nicer compliments I would receive from my parents. I had a room of my own and my bed was rather small. The warehouse was directly across from the only window in my room and looking through it, I could see my reflection on the giant mirror on building. Whenever there was a full moon, it would reflect on the mirror and I’d always close my eyes and hope when I’d re-open them I could be in heaven but it never works and I remained hopeless.
I was never a light sleeper and my mom would push me off the bed and that would be my alarm clock. After some years, it became routine and the pain would turn into a more desirable feeling and at some point I felt I deserved it for not waking up on my own. Before school, I usually drink water and walk the forty blocks to first period. Sacred Heart high school was an all girl school filled with experimental girls and a rigid social hierarchy where I was first place at the bottom. Although I didn’t want the attention because of all the crosses on my body, I’d still imagine what a friend felt like.
The coldest day of winter, March 4th, it was seven degrees below and the hall ways seemed smaller than ever before.
The Nurse’s office was like a never ending path and I had to be there before 3rd period bell rang. The lockers were a painter’s creation and it all seemed to be a part of a grey illusion. At this point, my brain froze and my melted. Nothing was the same except that it was my birthday. On my journey, I thought about all my previous birthdays and how all I wanted was to be rescued. And for some strange reason I knew this birthday, things would be different. I saw the light in the office as I drew closer to the door and I couldn’t think of the perfect excuse. It was between number twenty-five, burning myself with the iron or number thirteen, falling on the concrete pavement. Unfortunately, I have used #25 too often so #13 had to be a good story. Finally I reached my destination and as turned the door knob slowly and took about five steps into the office, Miss Ronclark barked a “how are you? You got here quick” directly at my face. I said my usual “I’m fine”, raised my eyebrows and sat on the bed.Smiling at her, I tried to kick the nervousness out my body and welcome a more relax feeling. She looked back with a pathetic smirk saying “this is your 47th time in my office in three months, “What’s going on?” I grinned and said “I guess I’m just extremely clumsy” and looked down. She threw at look of disbelief at me and told me to tell my parents to come in to have a talk with her. I gave her my real address, took the key, released the chains and flew with doves.
I was never a light sleeper and my mom would push me off the bed and that would be my alarm clock. After some years, it became routine and the pain would turn into a more desirable feeling and at some point I felt I deserved it for not waking up on my own. Before school, I usually drink water and walk the forty blocks to first period. Sacred Heart high school was an all girl school filled with experimental girls and a rigid social hierarchy where I was first place at the bottom. Although I didn’t want the attention because of all the crosses on my body, I’d still imagine what a friend felt like.
The coldest day of winter, March 4th, it was seven degrees below and the hall ways seemed smaller than ever before.
The Nurse’s office was like a never ending path and I had to be there before 3rd period bell rang. The lockers were a painter’s creation and it all seemed to be a part of a grey illusion. At this point, my brain froze and my melted. Nothing was the same except that it was my birthday. On my journey, I thought about all my previous birthdays and how all I wanted was to be rescued. And for some strange reason I knew this birthday, things would be different. I saw the light in the office as I drew closer to the door and I couldn’t think of the perfect excuse. It was between number twenty-five, burning myself with the iron or number thirteen, falling on the concrete pavement. Unfortunately, I have used #25 too often so #13 had to be a good story. Finally I reached my destination and as turned the door knob slowly and took about five steps into the office, Miss Ronclark barked a “how are you? You got here quick” directly at my face. I said my usual “I’m fine”, raised my eyebrows and sat on the bed.Smiling at her, I tried to kick the nervousness out my body and welcome a more relax feeling. She looked back with a pathetic smirk saying “this is your 47th time in my office in three months, “What’s going on?” I grinned and said “I guess I’m just extremely clumsy” and looked down. She threw at look of disbelief at me and told me to tell my parents to come in to have a talk with her. I gave her my real address, took the key, released the chains and flew with doves.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Rough Draft
Smithdale, New Hampshire, a city with explosive trees, narrow roads,dim personalities and no hope was where I was place for my entire life. I lived on 666-66 meadow drive nect to an old abandoned warehouse. Dark red daffodills that slept of the ground, crooked pavements that looked welcoming and the horrid smell of uncut grass described the best looking house on the block and I was lucky enough to live there.
In maany ways i felt i bongedthere because iitreflected my barbaric appearance. I had angry dark brown curls that had a mind of theown, inttelligent eyes, a small nose and chapped lips. These were reasons I walked alone for three years in highschool. I was a hurricane, I stole the smiles off people's faces and dampered their days with rain and that is why I was a ciminal according to my father.
I had a room of my own and my bed was rather small but i got used to it. I was never a light sleeper and my mom would push me off the bed and that would be my alarm clock. After several years it became routine and at some point I felt i deserved it for not waking up on my own. Before school, I usually eat cereal and walk the forty blocks to first period. Cresent High School is an all girls schooled filled with experimental girls and a rigid social hiearchy where I was First place at the bottom.
On march 4, the hallways seemed smaller than ever before. The nurse's office was four miles farther than yestrday. The lockers were a painter's creation and it all seemed to be part of this confusing illusion. My brain froze and my body melted. Nothing was the same that day despite the fact that it was my birthday. On my way to the office, I decided to think about all my precious birthdays and the gifts that I have ever received. I always expected what my gift would be but I'd always cry and that day would be unforgettable. This birthday, However, things would change, I just feel it. Five minutes away from the plain white door that was dependent on my future, I couldn't even think of the perfect excuse. It was between burning myself with the iron or falling on the pavement. Unfortunately I burnt myself with the iron too many times this year so the pavement story had to be good. As I turned the door knob and took about five baby steps into the room, Mrs Ronclark barked a "how are you ?" directly at my face. I said my usual "I'm Fine" and sat on the bed. Smiling at her, I tried to kick the nervousness out my body and welcome a more relaxed feeling. She looked me with a pathetic smirk saying "this is your 47th time in my office in 3 months. "what's going on?" I grinned and said I guess I'm just extremely clumsy. She denied that answer and told me that my parent should come in to have a talk with her. Unfortunately for her, my mom is an alcoholic and my father beats me so they are pretty much occupied.
In maany ways i felt i bongedthere because iitreflected my barbaric appearance. I had angry dark brown curls that had a mind of theown, inttelligent eyes, a small nose and chapped lips. These were reasons I walked alone for three years in highschool. I was a hurricane, I stole the smiles off people's faces and dampered their days with rain and that is why I was a ciminal according to my father.
I had a room of my own and my bed was rather small but i got used to it. I was never a light sleeper and my mom would push me off the bed and that would be my alarm clock. After several years it became routine and at some point I felt i deserved it for not waking up on my own. Before school, I usually eat cereal and walk the forty blocks to first period. Cresent High School is an all girls schooled filled with experimental girls and a rigid social hiearchy where I was First place at the bottom.
On march 4, the hallways seemed smaller than ever before. The nurse's office was four miles farther than yestrday. The lockers were a painter's creation and it all seemed to be part of this confusing illusion. My brain froze and my body melted. Nothing was the same that day despite the fact that it was my birthday. On my way to the office, I decided to think about all my precious birthdays and the gifts that I have ever received. I always expected what my gift would be but I'd always cry and that day would be unforgettable. This birthday, However, things would change, I just feel it. Five minutes away from the plain white door that was dependent on my future, I couldn't even think of the perfect excuse. It was between burning myself with the iron or falling on the pavement. Unfortunately I burnt myself with the iron too many times this year so the pavement story had to be good. As I turned the door knob and took about five baby steps into the room, Mrs Ronclark barked a "how are you ?" directly at my face. I said my usual "I'm Fine" and sat on the bed. Smiling at her, I tried to kick the nervousness out my body and welcome a more relaxed feeling. She looked me with a pathetic smirk saying "this is your 47th time in my office in 3 months. "what's going on?" I grinned and said I guess I'm just extremely clumsy. She denied that answer and told me that my parent should come in to have a talk with her. Unfortunately for her, my mom is an alcoholic and my father beats me so they are pretty much occupied.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Journal #1a: Part 1: Free write
So I'm not really sure what to write but I guess i'll start with how i lost my $40 during volleyball practice. Honestly I don't think it fell out my pocket because at I cheacked at all points. The reason I was extremely pissed off this time was because I lost over $150 in that school all together and I just find it extremely irritating. I'm not sure exactly who took it but I have a slight idea. I'm really revengeful but I'm gonna let that slide because I don't want to do anything i'll regret. Now my money's gone and its a recession but I will get over it.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Journal #1a (free write, List of Things)
1. Things I am afraid of:
-spiders
-rats and mices
-butterflies
-death
-not living up to my potential
-god
-not being apart of change
-the dark
-tight spaces
2. Things i would die for:
-knowing all my family and being more connected with them
-change
3. Things I am passionate about:
-change
-love
-politics and human rights
-poetry
4. Things I would try
- sky diving
- swin with dolphins
- sushi
- go on a space mission
- go in a hot hair ballon
5. Things I can't live without
- my phone
- laptop
- knowledge
- music
6. Things I love
-food
-best friends
-mom
-god
-facebook
-spongebob
7. Things I hate
- broken promises
- fake people
- fireflies
- skechers
8. Things that annoy me
-clutter
-lies
-vulgar behavior
-commercials
-stupid movies
-viruses
9. Things I'd wish for
-everlasting peace
-unlimited supply of money
-no homeless people
10. Things that I would never forget
-9/11
-Haiti's earthquake
-The first time I came to the United States
-My first prom
1. The thing I am most afraid of are spiders! I truly hate those 8 legged creatures because of the way they look, their ability to move quickly and they make webs everywhere. I am not exactly sure where this hatred began but as I grew older, the more i feared them. I have tried to get over this fear of mine by watching eight legged freaks but I think i may have made my fear even worse. I have evn tired killing them by throwing my shoes and books across the room and they quickly scramble away to another spot. I don't think that I will ever get over this fear, spiders are evil creatures.
2. I have an enormous family on both parents' side and then I have my step family. However, I feel like I barely hvae any because my family is extremely disconected from one another. I would die for my family to get closer and to live a happy life together. I believe that the closeness that a family shares is necessary part of life and I am unfortunately missing out on that.
3. Every teenager and young adults endure hard times throughout the times we spend growing up. Most times at home, I feel really lonely and then all the stress from school made me feel worse. During those times I needed to find solace and that is where my passion for writing poetry began. I was never a fan of writing journals because my inconsistent habits, but with poetry, I would write whenever I was feeling low. I also use poetry to express my feelings of the world, all the people that inhabit it and for things that I could'nt possibly say out loud.
4. Knowing that I am only 16 years old, I haven't tried many things, especially extreme activities. Before I die, I would love to go Skydiving because I want to experience something exciting and thrilling at the same time. I think it would broader my experiences and that would just be one more story to tell.
5. I absolutely, positively cannot live without knowledge because the world never stops progressing and neither should I. The knowledge that I already have, has gotten me through many tasks ans trials in life . Knowledge is truly power because the more you know, the more you can get out of life and the different perspectives that you looks at.
6. I love my closest friends and I don't know if life would be the same without them. The shared life experiences that I got the chance to be apart of are unforgetable and unique. They help me with all my school and personal problems to the best of their abilities and they are never too busy to put up with me.
7. I wasn't sure if I hated broken promises more than sketchers but I finally came to a conclusion. I remember being 10 years old and my step aunt promised me an easy bake oven and to this day I haven't received it. I've been mad ever since and I was hurt that someone could use the word promise so easily then break it, especially a child. Ever since that day, when anyone used the word promise to me, I never expected anything so that if I didn't get it, I wouldnt be sad. Recently, my own father made a promise to me that he broke and now I have decided that I will no longer tolerate him.
8. I hate walking on the streets and seeing teens my age act recklessly and loud for no good reason. Not only is it embarassing, but it is also disturbing to everyone that is watching that person carry themself that way. I also have a promblem with the violence that is at a sky high today. Violence is bad enough, but being an eyewitness to certain extreme behaviours brings tears to my eyes because I can't imagine that this is what the world has come to.
9. I wish I lived a life where they were no homeless people because it is extremely sad walking past 10 homeless people on one block and dozens in the train stations. I feel that as a nation that represents the people, we should ensure that we decrease the number of people lingering around the streets without a bed to sleep on and all the other basic necessities of life.
10. Earlier this year, Haiti's earthquake had an emotional effect on not only Haitians but also Americans and other people that were aware of the crisis. I am no Haitian but I had deep felt sympathy for all my Haitian friends and especially all the adults and children in Haiti. At an attempt to help the haitian citizens, Mr. Rosser, seven other students and I went by the 66st train station near the school to try to get people to text the number to send 10 dollars. I was actually amazed at the amount of people we got to text and two other friends and I were interviewed by an ABC news person. It was a good feeling knowing that I have contributed to the world thousand of miles away and I will never forget that.
-spiders
-rats and mices
-butterflies
-death
-not living up to my potential
-god
-not being apart of change
-the dark
-tight spaces
2. Things i would die for:
-knowing all my family and being more connected with them
-change
3. Things I am passionate about:
-change
-love
-politics and human rights
-poetry
4. Things I would try
- sky diving
- swin with dolphins
- sushi
- go on a space mission
- go in a hot hair ballon
5. Things I can't live without
- my phone
- laptop
- knowledge
- music
6. Things I love
-food
-best friends
-mom
-god
-spongebob
7. Things I hate
- broken promises
- fake people
- fireflies
- skechers
8. Things that annoy me
-clutter
-lies
-vulgar behavior
-commercials
-stupid movies
-viruses
9. Things I'd wish for
-everlasting peace
-unlimited supply of money
-no homeless people
10. Things that I would never forget
-9/11
-Haiti's earthquake
-The first time I came to the United States
-My first prom
1. The thing I am most afraid of are spiders! I truly hate those 8 legged creatures because of the way they look, their ability to move quickly and they make webs everywhere. I am not exactly sure where this hatred began but as I grew older, the more i feared them. I have tried to get over this fear of mine by watching eight legged freaks but I think i may have made my fear even worse. I have evn tired killing them by throwing my shoes and books across the room and they quickly scramble away to another spot. I don't think that I will ever get over this fear, spiders are evil creatures.
2. I have an enormous family on both parents' side and then I have my step family. However, I feel like I barely hvae any because my family is extremely disconected from one another. I would die for my family to get closer and to live a happy life together. I believe that the closeness that a family shares is necessary part of life and I am unfortunately missing out on that.
3. Every teenager and young adults endure hard times throughout the times we spend growing up. Most times at home, I feel really lonely and then all the stress from school made me feel worse. During those times I needed to find solace and that is where my passion for writing poetry began. I was never a fan of writing journals because my inconsistent habits, but with poetry, I would write whenever I was feeling low. I also use poetry to express my feelings of the world, all the people that inhabit it and for things that I could'nt possibly say out loud.
4. Knowing that I am only 16 years old, I haven't tried many things, especially extreme activities. Before I die, I would love to go Skydiving because I want to experience something exciting and thrilling at the same time. I think it would broader my experiences and that would just be one more story to tell.
5. I absolutely, positively cannot live without knowledge because the world never stops progressing and neither should I. The knowledge that I already have, has gotten me through many tasks ans trials in life . Knowledge is truly power because the more you know, the more you can get out of life and the different perspectives that you looks at.
6. I love my closest friends and I don't know if life would be the same without them. The shared life experiences that I got the chance to be apart of are unforgetable and unique. They help me with all my school and personal problems to the best of their abilities and they are never too busy to put up with me.
7. I wasn't sure if I hated broken promises more than sketchers but I finally came to a conclusion. I remember being 10 years old and my step aunt promised me an easy bake oven and to this day I haven't received it. I've been mad ever since and I was hurt that someone could use the word promise so easily then break it, especially a child. Ever since that day, when anyone used the word promise to me, I never expected anything so that if I didn't get it, I wouldnt be sad. Recently, my own father made a promise to me that he broke and now I have decided that I will no longer tolerate him.
8. I hate walking on the streets and seeing teens my age act recklessly and loud for no good reason. Not only is it embarassing, but it is also disturbing to everyone that is watching that person carry themself that way. I also have a promblem with the violence that is at a sky high today. Violence is bad enough, but being an eyewitness to certain extreme behaviours brings tears to my eyes because I can't imagine that this is what the world has come to.
9. I wish I lived a life where they were no homeless people because it is extremely sad walking past 10 homeless people on one block and dozens in the train stations. I feel that as a nation that represents the people, we should ensure that we decrease the number of people lingering around the streets without a bed to sleep on and all the other basic necessities of life.
10. Earlier this year, Haiti's earthquake had an emotional effect on not only Haitians but also Americans and other people that were aware of the crisis. I am no Haitian but I had deep felt sympathy for all my Haitian friends and especially all the adults and children in Haiti. At an attempt to help the haitian citizens, Mr. Rosser, seven other students and I went by the 66st train station near the school to try to get people to text the number to send 10 dollars. I was actually amazed at the amount of people we got to text and two other friends and I were interviewed by an ABC news person. It was a good feeling knowing that I have contributed to the world thousand of miles away and I will never forget that.
Journal #1b (2 lies and 1 truth)
1. I'm not quite sure of the age but I was on the Track and Field team when I was living in Jamaica. I was aware that I was asthmatic but my parents thought that if i ran alot, I would eventually get over it. On the day of the race, I was nervous, and happy at the same time because I was so confident I would have won but unfortunately in the end it didn't work out that way. As i was running, I started to lose my breath very quickly and sooner than later I collapsed on the pavement and when I eventually woke up, I found out I lost. Not only did I not get a 1st place trophy, I was trapped in the children's hospital for a week for bronchitis and thats a whole other story.
2. When I'm finished telling this story, everyone will understand my hate for busses and why I will only take trains. At the end of freshman year,around the middle of June, I was on my way to connecticut with my mom to see my uncle and his family. My mom drives a dark blue Honda Civic and her licesnse plate number has my initials and hers so I really loved driving in there, I felt special. My mom is a fairly new driver and she was on the left side of the bus and as we were approaching a cross section, the bus turned and slammed right into us. The impact wasn't as dramatic because the bus was not at full speed but it was great enough to break my ankle. I remember always wishing for crutches and casts because I loved the sympathy but when I received them my life was a living hell.
3. I have been on my church choir for about a year and a half to this day and everyone has been on my back about trying out for American Idol. However I was sixteen at the time, and it was reccomended that I wait till I turn 17 to audition. Actually, a month and a half ago I auditioned in New Jersey and my number was 093241 and the reason why I memorized that number was because the line was so long that, that was all me and my aunt did for 10 long hours. When I auditioned, I sang "Hello" by Beyonce and the producers loved me even though they sensed the nervousness in my voice. Then if the producers says yes, then you move on to the judges, yes the actual judges. Now I had butterflies and every other insect crawling inside me and when I went into the room it didn't go away. I saw randy and that other dark haired woman that I despised from the previous seasons, Paula and Ellen were both not there and there was a guest judge. I sang the same song but forgot the words half way through and it was a no for me.
2. When I'm finished telling this story, everyone will understand my hate for busses and why I will only take trains. At the end of freshman year,around the middle of June, I was on my way to connecticut with my mom to see my uncle and his family. My mom drives a dark blue Honda Civic and her licesnse plate number has my initials and hers so I really loved driving in there, I felt special. My mom is a fairly new driver and she was on the left side of the bus and as we were approaching a cross section, the bus turned and slammed right into us. The impact wasn't as dramatic because the bus was not at full speed but it was great enough to break my ankle. I remember always wishing for crutches and casts because I loved the sympathy but when I received them my life was a living hell.
3. I have been on my church choir for about a year and a half to this day and everyone has been on my back about trying out for American Idol. However I was sixteen at the time, and it was reccomended that I wait till I turn 17 to audition. Actually, a month and a half ago I auditioned in New Jersey and my number was 093241 and the reason why I memorized that number was because the line was so long that, that was all me and my aunt did for 10 long hours. When I auditioned, I sang "Hello" by Beyonce and the producers loved me even though they sensed the nervousness in my voice. Then if the producers says yes, then you move on to the judges, yes the actual judges. Now I had butterflies and every other insect crawling inside me and when I went into the room it didn't go away. I saw randy and that other dark haired woman that I despised from the previous seasons, Paula and Ellen were both not there and there was a guest judge. I sang the same song but forgot the words half way through and it was a no for me.
My personal goal for this year in english class is...
1. Free write in my journal at least once a day to improve my writing
2. Read more often to expand my vocabulary
3. Persevere
4. Trust my work
2. Read more often to expand my vocabulary
3. Persevere
4. Trust my work
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