Tuesday, December 20, 2011

A Christmas Carol

Author's Note: The passage I have chosen to asses for purpose, meaning, and tone is the following: The spirit, for which he stood, with Scrooge beside him, in a bakers doorway, and, taking off the covers as their bearers passed, sprinkled incense on their dinners from his torch. And it was a very uncommon kind of torch, for once or twice when there were angry words between some dinner carriers who had jostled each other, he shed a few drops of water on them from it, and their good humor was restored directly . For they said it was a shame to quarrel upon Christmas Day. And so it was! God love it, so it was.

Charles Dickens

A Christmas Carol

Page 58

The passage in Stave Three shows the spirit of Christmas Present's interest in the quarrels of neighbors and families on Christmas day. When an unfortunate battle begins over dinner, gifts, or each others presence, he simply sprinkles the incense of his torch on their doorway, and their Christmas Spirit gets the best of them, as they return to their jolly selves. Its purpose shows what the effects of Christmas day can do to an unhappy family. Whether the spirit is even needed or not could be argued, it’s the time of the year that really cheers families up. The tone of this passage is suggestive. It provides an example of what a perfect Christmas could be, and the steps you could follow in order to have one.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Character

Author's Note: This piece talks about how the main character of Fahrenheit 451 struggles to realize the truth. Once he figures it out, he struggles again to share the truth with his fellow firefighters. He has a power he is unaware of. I also compare him to the maids of The Help.

To have an opinion that could lead the way to a better world, is like being trapped on a mountain with no way down. Sharing the opinion would be to roll down the mountain, dealing with the bumps and rocks on the way down. But to hold back, is to stay at the top of the mountain wondering what would happen if you were to plummet to the bottom. Would you escape? Would you die trying? Speaking out is a risk not many people are willing to take.

Guy Montag, from
Fahrenheit 451 is faced with a problem very similar. I believe he will prove to be a dynamic character throughout the book when he realizes that the worlds fate depends not only on his actions, but also on his voice. What he does and what he says, influence other to believe what he does. He might actually get enough people to make a change. He has influenced his neighbor and firechief that the world has other possibilities. Similar to the maids of The Help, Guy does not believe that he has the right to speak up. Unless he bundles up his courage and speaks out to his community, the maids will be waiting for him at the top of the mountain, where he will stay until he takes a tumble and plunges to the bottom.

Monday, December 5, 2011

Point of View

Author's Note: In this piece I am practicing putting myself in a minor character's point of view. In my book The Help I am Skeeter's Mother during her last days.



Dear Lord,

Everyday I worry about my daughter Skeeter. As she poorly dresses herself in the morning, I worry about her finding a husband. As she slowly picks at her lunch, I worry about her health. As she sneaks off to her room to do who-knows-what, I worry about her social life. I know that worrying shreds my hair and paints my skin pale, but she means the world to me and I am willing to risk even my appearance for her. If only I could take her shopping like I used to. Just to pick out a pretty outfit, to do her hair, and to send her off to a party of some sort would satisfy me. These days she hides up to her room during the day and attends bible study group all night. She's so good, so pure; yet, so secretive and unsteady. Is she seeing a man, simply scared for my approval? Is she--dare I say it--seeing a woman? With out her trust I may never know.

The part of my worrying that sends me to laughing fits, is that she worries about me! My cancer only permits me a few months left, I know. But Skeeter has so much more to worry about than her elderly mother! With the pain I receive stepping out of bed each morning I can only hope to see her someday walk down the aisle in a white wedding dress being wed to the perfect man. If I don't live that long, than Lord, please let her know that I am still with her, critcizing her every move. If in heaven I still am not able to do so, then I beg you to take the task upon yourself. My daugher truly means much to me and without her, I am not worthy of living.

In the name of the Father,

The Son,

And the Holy Spirit,

Amen.

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Middle School Memories

Author's Note: I planned on writing a poem on middle school insecurities, but I ended up writing a poem on middle school memories. I am working toward a goal of scoring a ten on word choice and voice. I'm not a confident poet, but a break from essays I thought would be nice.

As you lie in your bed,

Panic has glued you to its surface.

The horror stories you've heard,

The killers you've seen about,

The experiences you've already had,

Swarm about in your thoughts

As you try to dream peacefully.

Your brothers

Your sisters,

and close friends,

Tell you about the repulsion

Of Middle School

The girls are said to be so exclusive,

They tilt their heads when they speak

The boys are said to be so insecure,

They knock down your books for pleasure.

The teachers are said to be so stuck up,

They watch it all happen and don’t blink an eye.

Mom tells me it'll all be fine,

Dad tells me don't sweat it kid,

But Sara and Drew?

They speak differently.

I'm terrified,

I'm restless,

I'm only 11.

Will I make it through the first year?

Will I return home after the first day?

Should I purposely fail to repeat sixth grade?

But then I realize,

I'm not alone.

I quick pull up the school's website and accomplish a great feat,

The incoming sixth grade population is:

278.

Two hundred and Seventy Eight

Other kids having the same nightmares

I'm not alone, they aren't alone

I might even make a friend or two.


I fall asleep peacefully

I'm excited for middle school.

Monday, October 31, 2011

Spider Poem


Author's Note: Here is my attempt at a free verse poem on spiders. It's not worth an entire author's note about it and I am not looking for feedback on it. Happy Halloween!



Yesterday

Today

Everyday, I spin my web

I have lost track of the days

The weeks

The months

But my web continues to grow

It grows stronger

It grows larger

And I know my purpose will be fulfilled

I sit in the center and wait

I wait for long minutes

Long hours

Long nights

For a snack

A tasty snack?

Any snack

I've been hungry for a while

A fly!

It buzzes

It flies closer

I wait silently

No breathing

No blinking

The fly is trapped and I move

I spin

I suck

My purpose fulfilled, I must start spinning again



Monday, October 24, 2011

Are You Proud of Your Country?

Author's Note: Am I proud of my country? Yes, and here I state it in my Patriot's Pen response.

I have no vision of our country being any other way than what it is now. Any less relaxed, any less free. If we had Taliban officers scuffling through our homes and schools, I simply couldn't call it America. If we had laws against having more than one sibling, I simply couldn’t call it America. If we had government officer positions inherited instead of elected, I simply could not call it America. Here in America we are free. Each and every one of us gets a say in almost everything we do. It may sound cliché but yes, of course I am proud of our country. We may have issues with our economy, even our nation's health, but in the long run these problems really don't matter. Compared to other countries-we are very fortunate to have such a great space where everyone is free to express their creativity. To rephrase the question previously asked; Why wouldn't I be proud of my country?

Monday, October 17, 2011

Healing One's Wounds with Another's Blood

Author's Note: To work on using my voice I thought it would be fun to use an insane man's voice in my story. Please give me feedback on my syntactic device usage and my voice.


The "vampire," people called me, but a bloodsucker I was not. Little old me? Hah! Vampires symbolize pain, blood, death. In fact, I don't remember doing anything wrong. I held open doors for others, escorted old ladies across the street, and brushed my teeth before bed. Sometimes I heard things, but that didn't make me weak or insane! It simply meant I had better hearing than everyone else. My senses were strong and they helped me survive on my own. All alone.


Drip Drop.


My mouth and nose were wet. It had been a long walk, a long day, a long time since I last ate. Anyone else would be delusional by now, but not me. I was well rested--just a bit thirsty--but ready to continue my journey. Milwaukee to New York was at least a million miles. I deserved a treat! My two feet had been through much. Blood trickled through the seams of my shoes, sometimes leaving traces with my footsteps.


Drip Drop.


A snack! That's what I needed, my intake had been low. I hadn't stopped since Detroit for a sip. Roam, roam, roam, a song flew through my head. I sang for a mile or two until I was rudely interrupted by my dear stomach. It was devastating sometimes, how I bled. My stomach, nose, mouth, even my feet bled. Sometimes it made me thirsty -- hungry even! Where to get my next snack? Should I wait until I get to New York? Could I make it?


Drip Drop.


I wasn't sure where I was. I don't believe I know to this day! It must have been New York, as big as it was. But I don't think I had never been there before. Everyone was wearing red! It was bit strange; none of the people there had faces either. They wore red pants, shirts, and dresses. I liked it. I could've lived there it relaxed me so much! It was like I slid instead of walked. Everything was great; it was grand! But that one man. The one silly man wearing the purple plaid suit.


Drip Drop.


Why? Why would you wear such a thing? To disrupt the peace -- unacceptable! As I stared him down, my eyes began to ache. The red took over until I could barely make out the man, but he was the only one I saw. My eyes -- they hurt when I closed them. However, I couldn't keep them open! By this point the man noticed me watching from afar. He ran. Oh, he was fast -- but I was faster. I was stronger too -- I just knew it!


Drip Drop, Drip Drop.


The pain was getting worse. I had to focus on the man, I couldn’t let him out of my sight. All that confidence in his stride…must have been A negative. I preferred O but at the time either would have been acceptable.


Drip Drop.


I needed to scream, to run, to eat! My senses were fading.


Drip Drop.


I couldn't breathe, my vision was blurring, I tasted blood- my blood. Yet still I ran, the prize would be worth the pain. One last step and I had him! You see, vampires would show no mercy at this point, but I thought deep into the situation and realized that this man had only a few years left anyway! Everyone must die eventually. I lunged toward the man, seizing his throat. He screamed like a baby.


Drip Drop.


I grabbed the man, my nose coming back into existence, and I inhaled. I looked around for the man's suit to see if my eyes still pained me, but my eyes became distracted once I reached its collar. No longer in pain, my eyes, distracted away from the man's suit, focused only on the large vein right along his shoulder vein. Right along his shoulder blade was a large vein, it was purple and throbbing with fear. I couldn't stand it much longer! My thirst had become sickening. I dug in with my teeth ripping through the first few layers of skin. Instantly, my thirst was satisfied, my senses strong, and my strength replenished. Everyone knows the best way to heal one's wounds is with another's blood.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Conclusion Acitvity

Author's Note: My Conclusion prompt was, Alice was at the Wonderland tea party, and the Mad Hatter questioned if she was edible. Here is the conclusion I chose to write, changing the original fairy tale and I liked writing the twist in the story that changes the readers opinion about the Hatter. I would like feedback on my dialog format and how I could change it.


Alice sat down next to the Mad Hatter, a mysterious man he was. He spoke normal sentences, he took normal steps, but he blinked much too often and sipped his coffee like there was no tomorrow. She felt comfortable here. Not only sitting next to this man, but in Wonderland in general. He was very polite and kept asking her if she wanted coffee. She refused; she knew what caffeine did to her, but just to make him happy she took a few biscuits.

"Just a few?" he had said, "Surely you'll want to fatten up, Wonderland isn't for skinny girls you know!"

Blink blink. She ate up and took a few more, and then tried asking for help getting to the Red Queen's tower.

"Oh, Darling, you won't make it there."

The Rabbit jumped up in shock, "Late! Alice is late! Alice run this man is a cannibal!"

Alice froze. The Hatter wasn't a cannibal! He was just quirky! They could be great friends after she defeated the queen.

"No my dear, this silly Rabbit hasn't had his morning coffee. You know, Rabbit," he said through gritted teeth," Say any more and you might need to join us for brunch too!"

"Brunch? Oh! What are we celebrating?" said Alice.

"Why, today is your Unbirthday!" replied Hatter.

"Unbirthday, well I don't think I've heard of such a thing." Alice said with a look of surprise.

"It’s rather like a birthday. Only unlike a birthday, the day of your birth, an unbirthday is the day of your,

um, well to simply state it, your death."

Before Alice could make a move, the Hatter lunged for her head. He grabbed her quickly and Alice celebrated a very gruesome Unbirthday. The Rabbit scurried off to the Red Queens Castle to report another death. Oh Alice was late, the Rabbit thought, much, much too late.

Friday, October 7, 2011

Intro Hooks

Author's Note: Character-Kyle who has recently graduated high school. Setting-Sense Chin-chin's Dojo. Conflict- The moisturizer is running out! These are the topics I was assigned to write an intro on that would pull a reader in.

Have you ever noticed that on the faces, arms, necks, and chins of the elderly lies a jungle of wrinkles? Dry, cracked skin folding over itself adding irritation to the lives of older men and women. Sense Chin-chin had a stressed life as it was, but reaching 49 soon, he didn't need pesky wrinkles finding themselves a way into his life. His only solution from stopping the skin was moisturizer. He applied it twice a day to ensure that the wrinkles didn't take over his entire life.

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Sinking Friendship

Author's Note: My short story was written to focus on the exposition, rising action, climax, falling action, and resolution. It was edited by Meg and read also by Natalie. Please comment on my voice and use of sentence fluency. Thanks for your input!

Cody, was cute, that’s for sure. Keeping in mind he was the only guy for miles, I considered myself pretty lucky. Before the accident I had noticed him once. He had been the cute lifeguard watching over the ship’s waterslide. I’d climbed the stairs, counting seventy four out loud in my precise little way. I reached the top and received a look—from who I now know as Cody—that said I was sweet. He smiled, I smiled. Then I slid to the bottom, the smile not leaving my face. After that it had been three vacation fun-filled days since I saw him again, but this time both of us looked anything but cute.

“Please run in an orderly fashion to the life boats, a life jacket will be issued to all passengers in line.”
“ Help! Please, where’s my son?”
“I can’t swim! I need to board the life boats first!”

These were screams I heard as that boat went down. People had told me that I was good with numbers before, but sometimes figuring things out in your head has consequences. After noticing that the life boats would help a third of the passengers off the ship, I was quickly sent into a state of panic. I sprinted to the front of the line, leaving your Mother and her boyfriend to fend for themselves. I’m sure in a similar situation they would to the same to me.

A bystander would have thought that four years of track would have come in handy in a situation like this, but sadly I had been too late. All the lifeboats had been taken and the two thirds of the people left on the boat were mentally unstable and not a very fun crowd to be around. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the cute lifeguard. I decided to follow him, thinking that he must have known the boat better than most, but once I got within a couple feet I noticed he was about to jump. What kind of idea was that? Who knows what could be lurking under the deep waters of the Pacific Ocean? But he was cute, and I estimated that I had about 35 minutes to live, so I took a leap. The water hit the back of my thighs hard and I received sort of a whiplash while I was under. It took me a good minute to fight my way through the seaweed toward the surface. Once I got up, opened my eyes and took a breath, I was greeted by a confused lifeguard in an incredibly small lifeboat.
“Where’d you get that? The life boats have all been taken?”
“I go for night rides sometimes, they keep spares in the near the rear.”
I replied stupidly with an, “oh”. We stared at each other for a few seconds in an uncomfortable silence. Although there were people twenty feet above us still letting out piercing screams, all I could focus on was his eyes. Finally helped me into his rescue boat, all four of our legs dangling off the edge, and we each took a paddle and rowed ourselves out to sea.

The situation could not have been more awkward. I think he felt that he would never see his family again, and I was his long lost sister. He fired off questions like a rifle and by the time our hands were blistered from the wooden paddles, we knew each others’ life stories and secrets. It turns out we would have been attending rival high schools in the fall, ever since he had been kicked out of his last one for breaking a teacher’s collarbone, with his textbook.
We had escaped the sinking cruise ship by a long shot now, and neither of us had an idea what to do next. There was water as far as we could see and the sun was low in the west and to simply state it, I was scared. I didn’t know how we would eat, when we would sleep, or even where we were. I asked him something along the lines of “How are you?” He responded by staring in amazement at my left foot.
“Cody? Cody are you okay?”
“Shhh! Shut up and do not move!”

Cody lunged toward my left foot with his right arm and snagged a fish right out of the water. He smiled maddeningly while I sat their confused. What was he doing? He couldn’t really think that thing was edible! He did it. He ate the fish raw with his perfect white teeth. What a mess, I thought. But neither of us knew how long we would be out here, how we would survive. I was not only for me, but for Cody. He was beginning to go insane, humming a melody of a pop song that was overplayed on the radio. He told me he was singing himself to sleep, but I could tell his mind was not capable of shutting down anytime soon. Eventually I fell asleep in an uncomfortable position, right on top of zoned out Cody. I’m not sure what happened next but I think I dreamt about Cody pulling me down the waterslide…

One week later my body was found, underneath Cody’s floating at the surface. Neither of us were alive, we had been long dead. That night he woke up sometime around midnight to throw up. Raw fish are not a nutritious snack. Since the boat was so small, he pulled me down with him. His weight lowered me and before I was awake I had inhaled a full gallon of water. I died peacefully, but Cody died in pain. We thought we were safe, we thought we had each other. Unfortunately, even though the sinking ship had been in our past, we died along with 300 others in the sinking of Friendship.