Adrianne

Graf # 17- Course Evaluation

2005-12-16T07:53:00.000-05:00

I must commend you on your way of teaching. Unlike many English teachers you do not tower over us and force us to write long boring papers about some new book you made us read. You did not make us analyze any poetry or read some new great American novel. I like the way you set up your writing course because for some odd reason writing everything in a blog made it seem less formal. We didn't hand everything we wrote in to you just so you could pass it back marked up in red ink. Every comment you posted on our blogs was positive and you had a way of making us realize what we could do better without preaching it. Thank God you did not stand there and spout off a lecture the entire class, you might talk a little bit in the beginning of class but it never seemed drawn out like most English teachers manage to do. Although you never lectured in class I think I learned a great deal from it. You managed to give us freedom in a subject where boundaries are numerous elsewhere.

In my high school I remember doing the same thing every year in english class. Each quarter you would be assigned a book and while you read it you wrote maybe 3 five paragraph essays about it, free choice. They never stressed any kind of specific essay, they only stressed that they never wanted to see "I" in any of them. They wanted factual essays not opinionated ones. You wanted the opposite. Having this kind of freedom in my writing gave me the oppurtunity to put myself into my writing and I know that for that reason I was able to improve my writing through this class.

Prompt Reaction # 14

2005-12-07T08:34:00.000-05:00

I lived in a really small town. I've talked about it in a few of my blogs. When you live in a small town you have to find ways of entertaining yourself that don't include a mall, or a big movie theatre. I made the mistake of thinking that hanging out with the "older crowd" would be the best form of entertainment. When I met Katie I was surprised at how alike we were, she was my age but very popular with the older crowd ( the seniors/juniors). We became fast friends and thats when I started smoking. With Katie it started out just being cigarettes. Then came Michelle. That's when it got bad. Michelle introduced me and Katie to pot. The same night that I smoked pot for the first time was the same night that I drank for the first time (save for a glass of wine/champagne). After that night the three of us spent every weekend drinking and every evening smoking. We had images to maintain, all three of us were on the Cheerleading competition team, and surprisingly no one suspected us of anything. It started out just smoking after school, it progressed into spending our lunch period driving down the backroads or Burnham getting stoned. My grades never suffered, you would expect they would, but all three of us maintained our grades, as well as our afterschool activities. No one was even suspicious, if they were they never said anything.

The drinking escalated as well. We went to parties porbably every Friday and Saturday, sometimes we would go to college parties that were on Sundays, and skip class the next morning. It got really horrible in April of my Junior year. Michelle had graduated but was still around, but our group had grown. Heather and Vicky joined us. It took a turn for the worse when April Vacation was approaching. Each of us were going of on family vacations and we wanted one last "Hurrah" before we all left. So Wednesday night we all pooled our money together, made a list and sent Michelle. We explained that we had a huge group project due the next day and we were going to have to go to Heather's house early that next morning to get all of our stuff together. So at 6am Thursday morning we all sat around Heather's kitchin table, an addition of Heathers older sister and a gallon of Orange juice and a gallon of Five'o'clock. We played drinking games until we all had a sufficient buzz. Then we each had a bottle of Lipton Raspberry Iced Tea that we mixed some Five'o'clock in and headed for school. Since it was Thursday we had morning meeting, which is when the whole school gathers in the gym for morning announcements. None of us were drunk but we were all buzzing and it was there that I got paranoid. I mean scared shitless, a teacher sat down right beside us and I knew we were busted when he kept looking at us.

I know you are expecting us to get busted the funny thing is, we never did. We were all scared as hell all day, completely killing the fact that we had a buzz. None of us enjoyed it, well except maybe Vicky who had no fear of getting caught, she had a blast. This time people noticed, friends, classmates, just not any teachers or if they did they never said anything. I won't lie to you and say I quit drinking, or even slowed down because I didn't. None of us did. Until my senior year we kept this on. My reality came crashing down during my senior year. My grades didn't drop, and my teachers hadn't suspected anything but my parents did. They started keeping me home as much as possible. Dinner became a mandatory attendance and weekends were limited to one night at a friends house. Eventually I got used to not partying all the time. Drinking was the easiest to give up. I wasn't addicted to it, smoking I was.

I tried to stop gradually, refusing every now and then, smoking with them only one lunch a week. It didn't work. Weekends still included smoking. It got to the point that I started feeling guilty becuase I didn't have the strength to ween myself off of it. My friends started guilt tripping me, asking me if I was upset with them, and telling me that they miss the "old" me, the one who smoked with them everyday. I realized that I'm not witht these friends (other than Vicky) unless I was smoking or drinking. So I decided the best way for me to kick smoking was to kick my firends. So I started making excuses during my lunch periods. Saying I had tests to make up or I had to run home for something. Vicky understood, she knew what I was trying to do and she let me do it my own way. We remained friends but by the fifth lunch period I skipped and the secong weekend I cancelled my other "friends" bailed on me. They figured out what I was doing, I wasn't trying to hide it very hard. It took me about three months to completely stop smoking. I shut that door of my life and never looked back. I look at the friends I had at the time and see what they're doing now. Heather and Katie are no longer into smoking pot, they have uprgraded to snorting pills and worse. Michelle is a cokehead and Vicky is still my best friend. I understand that while I wanted to kick my habits she didn't. She still drinks and smokes, to the extreme, she hasn't moved into anything worse though. Basically when I kicked my friends she did too. We just didn't take the same path. I'm happy with how everything worked out for me. That's a door I refuse to open again. I won't lie and say I never drink anymore, but I can proudly tell you that it's been about a year since I've smoked pot.

Week # 14 Freestyle

2005-12-02T08:25:00.000-05:00

In my sociology class a few weeks ago we did this exercise where every student was given a card. Each male recieved a card that said " I wish women would know.........." and was told to fill in the blank. Each female recieved a card that said "I wish men would know.........." and given the same instructions. Some of the answers were funny. The most popular answers were:

I wish women would know:

How to put a toilet seat down.
How to shut up
That we don't share our emotions for a reason- it's annoying
If you don't want to know-don't ask
Yes you do look fat in those jeans
I don't care what you did today
I don't like commitment
Pizza and Beer is a healthy diet in my book
Commercials are meant for talking, football is meant for watching
If I wanted someone to act like my mother I never would have left home.

I wish men would know:

I can be pissed off and NOT be PMSing
We know you're only pretending to listen to us when you're watching T.V., just like we're only pretending that that "feels good"
We think we look fat in everything- if you just say "no hunny you look great in that!" we can leave quicker.
How to operate the toilet- what goes up MUST come down. Imagine the time you would save being bitched at if you just put it back the way you found it.
My face is located mere inches away from where you focus you're attention- a slight raise and you could meet me eye level- I would respond better if you did that.
If I wanted to baby something I'd buy a puppy- grow up!
I won't tell you when my parents are coming to visit just so you can plan a camping trip with the guys.
If you have the right to look but not touch than so do we. And believe me we look- we look a LOT.
Don't be too cocky of your place in my life- I'm a woman and my mind changes quickly- keep on your toes and I'll keep you around.
Jewlery and flowers do not guarentee I'll forgive you- They guarentee I'll think about it.

I loved this exercse because it was just so funny the answers that people came up with.

I hope these give you a good laugh like it did me!

Process Essay

2005-12-02T07:47:00.000-05:00

I live in a very Roman Catholic family. Not just my parents, but my Aunts, Uncles, Grandparents, basically everyone related to me is Roman Catholic. While I have faith, and believe in God and his teachings, I don’t take it to an extreme. I am still just a “kid”. My rebellious acts are what led me to the slim line of family acceptance that I still hold to this day. Obviously my family loves me, but I am a little out of the loop because of my actions.

The first downward step I took was asking my father if I could get my belly button pierced. Since my parents aren’t as strict as my grandparents they said I could. I was 14 at the time. That was also the year I got my first tattoo. I had a friend whose older brother had just gotten his tattooing license. He gave me and his sister matching tattoos on our shoulder blades that year. I managed to hide it for two weeks before my father saw it. That was NOT a good day. While I was getting chewed out by my father my mother was sitting on the couch crying. Yep, crying. She was so disappointed in me that she cried! I felt horrible, but I loved my tattoo, and my piercing. My parents gradually learned to accept it, and soon the whole ordeal was forgotten. That is, until we went to Pennsylvania that following summer. My grandparents live there. More specifically my horribly strict, very Polish Roman-Catholic grandmother. I didn’t think anything of it. By that time my belly button ring and my tattoo were a thing of the past, I forgot they were there, until the second day we were there. We went to a family barbecue at my Aunts, who has a huge pool. Yep I made my mistake right then. I threw off my clothes I had over my bathing suit and turned to wade into the pool. Stupid me I couldn’t just wait until I was in the pool to take the shirt off. My Grandmother’s howl could have been heard 5 miles away. She told me to march my little ass over to her. She gagged at my belly button and shuddered at my tattoo. She gave me a horrible look, told me “God did not give you that body to destroy like that.” And that was the last thing she said to me for the entire two weeks I was there. She never got over it, but a few weeks after we were home again she called and told my mother to tell me she loved me.

My next tumble down the ladder occurred when I was 17. Again I was in the mood for another change. I decided I wanted my nose pierced. After a week of manipulating my parents into approval my father took me and my cousin to Maine Tattoo & Piercing to get our noses pierced. I loved it. You know what they say, these things become and addiction. Yet again it was my grandmother who flipped out. I mean FLIPPED OUT. This time though my grandparents were up visiting us, again, it had been so long since I had my nose pierced that I barely remembered it was there. That night when my grandparents got there they went straight to bed because it was such a long drive. It wasn’t until the next morning that the shit hit the fan. I woke up as usual, walked into the bathroom took a shower, brushed my teeth and walked into the living room. At first everything was fine. It was my mother, my grandmother and me sitting at the table eating toast when my gram saw the glint of my nose ring. He eyes focused in like an owl finding a mouse. Her eyes slowly grew larger until they were practically bulging out of her head. Her face turned red as I held my breath waiting for the howl, the anger. She slid her chair back from the table and went to the guest bedroom they were staying in. She stayed there for about 4 hours before she came out and sat down on the couch ignoring me. I have no doubt that she spent the entire time praying for my “lost soul”. Again she left without talking to me.

This may make me a trouble starter but these last few steps down were premeditated. I got another tattoo this year, my first legal one for my 18th birthday. My parents didn’t care, by now they were used to my rebellion. They didn’t exactly like it, but they chose their battles. As long as I wasn’t doing drugs or drinking they could handle my form of expression. My grandparents came up this year for Thanksgiving. This time it wasn’t just my new tattoo that outraged my grandmother, but something far, far worse. I was living UNMARRIED with my boyfriend. I swear it almost gave her a heart attack. She couldn’t believe I was living in sin, not to mention my boyfriend had tattoo sleeves (all up his arms) and a barbell through two spots on his ear. All of these things combined infuriated my gram. First she yelled at me, then she yelled at my parents for letting it happen, then she prayed, then she scowled then she went home to PA pissed off. I haven’t talked to her yet but my family over there says she is still pissed and still ranting and raving about my lack of discipline, my lack of faith, and how I am taking the downward stairs straight into hell.

While the rest of my family was more forgiving (mainly because they are younger and understand the "craze" and the simple acts of rebellion that are popular these days), my grandmother remains as unforgiving as ever. She has yet to accept that I have tattoo's but has stopped bitching about them, mainly because my father has two now and she can't be mad at him. She wants me to take my piercings out becuase they are disgusting, and "unladylike". Luckily she has stopped being pissed off at me for that. The thing she will never forgive me for is me living with my boyfriend. She is very religious and believes that it is a sin to live together unmarried. She tells my mother every time she talks to her on the phone that she prays for me to do the right thing and either marry David or move out. And every time she says that I have to be the antagonist and from the background yell " I'm not marryin' the kid- I'm too young, and I like my apartment too much to move out, plus I love the queen size bed we share, I can't give that up it's too comfy!" She usually huffs and puffs and tells my mom she has laundry to do and hangs up. My mother proceeds to give me that 'Did you HAVE to say that to her? look' and then we both burst out laughing.

Week # 13 Freestyle

2005-11-28T08:33:00.000-05:00

Go figure. During the busiest week of my life I got sick. Not to mention I was sick on Thanksgiving. Is that cruel or what?! I couldn't even taste one bite of food that entered my mouth that day. It was torture. I'm used to it though. For some reason holiday's and I just don't mix. I think I am doomed to never celebrate again. Let me break this down for you.

Sweet Sixteen Birthday- My Uncle died. I rode in a cramped truck for 14 hours to go to PA. No one said Happy Birthday. Sweet Sixteen turned into Shitty Sixteen.
Valentines Day- first time with a serious boyfriend- got Mono. No kissing for me.
Christmas last year- Flu- couldn't move without throwing up. Presents opened on bed and Christmas dinner saved for later.
New Years Eve last year- no sooner had I recovered from flu long enough to eat something I got it again.
18th Birthday- planned on cutting class- two teachers scheduled HUGE exams-couldn't miss- got a "C" on both.
This Thanksgiving- had a cold- couldn't breathe well-couldn't taste ANYTHING!

See what I mean. This isn't just a fluke. This is a chain of consistant illness during holidays. At this point I think I need to avoid any holidays until I handle them without getting sick. Or maybe I can just pretend that there isn't a holiday and fool my stubborn body into believing there is nothing to celebrate, therefore not letting me get sick...

Prompt Reaction #6

2005-11-23T08:34:00.000-05:00

When I was little I was dramatic. I loved to "runaway" when I didn't get my way. I never went far, always to the same place. I haven't been there in a long time, not since I was little. I remember the place like I was there yesterday. My house is located near a huge field. If you walk out into the field on the four wheel tracks there is a small footpath that leads off the tracks. It brings you out into an old abandoned runway. Grass has grown into cracks in the runway surface, the grass is overgrown around it, up to my hips at last look. The wildflowers grow in abundance and the air is as fresh as can be. When I wade through the grass, every so often I come by a flattened down piece where the outline of a sleeping deer is still visible. The woods surround me on both sides and the birds from each side call out their 'Hellos' to one another and fly over my head. Bees and butterflies circle around me and land restfully on the slew of flowers. The sun caresses my face as I walk deeper and deeper into the field. When I reach the edge of the broken tar runway I stoop to pick the wild strawberries that grow along the edge. This is where I drop my small blanket and pull out my notebook. As I munch on the strawberries I write my thoughts in my journal and pick out my favorite view of that day to draw in my journal to remember forever. I lay there, surrounded by serenity until the darkness begins to descend. I roll up my blanket, garb a few strawberries for the road and start home, the call of the coyotes at my back and the chill of the evening wind whipping around my body as I wade through the overgrown grass towards the trail that will lead me back into my crazy life.

Prompt Reaction # 13

2005-11-23T08:18:00.000-05:00

We are gathered here today to remember the better days. The days when Priests were a trusted confidant, the days when "bitches, sluts, hoes," every swear known to man, and murder weren't popular themes for music, the days when a president took responsibility for his stupidity and admitted he was in over his head. I miss when the Presidents love life wasn't more important then all the great changes he made in the Nation. I miss the days when small business owners thrived and Wal-Mart wasn't as big. When did cell phones become a necessity? Since when do 9 year olds need to have a cell phone? Who's so important that you talk on a cell while driving? I remember a time, a LONG time ago when the headlines weren't "Popular Music Artist Michael Jackson Accused of Child Molestation" or "R.Kelly Suspected of Statatory Rape", or even "Local Teacher Dismissed After Affair with Underage Student". I miss the days a young woman could leave her dorm room and not worry about being attacked during the short distance to her car. What happened to the days when gas didn't cost an arm and a leg? Was there such a time? What happened to the days when a woman on life support's fate WASN'T decided by a supreme court but by her family, those who knew her wishes? I guess my real question in all of this is what the hell happened to Humanity? I remember the days... you know where I'm going with this... I remember the good old days, the days we ALL need to remember.

Prompt Reaction # 11

2005-11-23T08:05:00.000-05:00

Take a quick look at me and you see an average Jane. You glance my way and think, what a quiet, reserved young woman. Let's take a peek behind that wall for a few moments. What you see isn't always what you get. In class I look calm and collected, outside of class I'm loud, obnoxious, hyper, and quick on my feet (intellectually at least, physically I'm about as fast as a turtle). At least that's what my parents always told me. They always told me how I always seemed to find a way around rules and a way to do it discreetly.

I remember when I was in Middle School. My favorite pasttime was getting around the rules. My favorite line: "But you said I could go! How was I supposed to know you were being sarcastic? I didn't hear 'Yes you can go if you want to be grounded next weekend'. I thought you just meant I could go, I thought my arguing finally got through to you that I'm not a little girl I can take care of myself mom!" Ahhhh the old days... good times. Somehow that line usually helped. Probably about 75% of the time my parents questioned if they had been clear enough and decide they probably hadn't and I would get away unscathed. You gotta love the manipulation skills I had when I was little. I learned it all from my brother with a little added dash from my sister. Mikey gave me the ideas, how to go about them and how to acomplish them and my sister helped me perfect both the pout when I got in trouble and the 'evil eye' when my parents told me 'NO'. I guess in the getting out of trouble department I had a handicap that the rest of my siblings didn't... I was the baby. Mommy's youngest and a huge Daddy's girl. I was spoiled, I wasn't seen as an angel, but boy was I spoiled. Once the tears spilled my parents were putty in my hands, the tears usually flowed not only during the first argument to let me go somewhere but usually after I went there and used my "but you said.. how was I to know you meant.." when I got home. I definately used that line at least twice a month, and it worked excellent for me when it came to getting around my parents rules.

Prompt Reaction # 12

2005-11-21T08:34:00.000-05:00

I had never been on an airplane before. Here I am, 17 years old and on my first plane trip-----alone. I was scared out of my mind. My parents dropped me off at the airport so I could go see my sister-in-law in North Carolina while my brother was in Iraq. Thanks to 9/11 my parents couldn't get past security and had to leave me there to continue on my own. I didn't get to design my flight plan, my brother grabbed the best available one and sent it to me. Luckily my first plane was on a huge Delta Boeing. I was waiting to get onto the plane and was nervous sitting in those uncomfortable terminal chairs but finally my flight was announced. I was seated right in the middle of the plane in the outside seat. The man next to me was obviously a businessman that flew frequently. He looked very much at ease in a dark suit, dark glasses and laptop on the fold-down desk. He was the opposite of me when it came to nerves. I gripped the arm rests as the plane took-off, holding my breath. When the plane finally leveled off I began to relax, a little. That's when the nervous chatter began. There was no telling what he was thinking behind those dark sunglasses as I babbled on about my brother being in Iraq, how this was my first plane ride, how I was scared about my two hour layover in Atlanta, basically every little thing I could think off between Portland, Maine and Atlanta, Georgia. He just sat there typing away on his laptop as if i wasn't even there. He obviously heard me, I wouldn't be surprised if the whole plane hadn't heard me. He just never responded except to say "Breathe" as we started to land and my hands had their death grip on the arm rests. He flung a half-hearted "Good-Luck" to me as he exited the plane and practically flew down to baggage claim. He probably thought I was crazy.

Week # 12 Freestyle

2005-11-21T07:56:00.000-05:00

Ugghh. This is going to be a long week. Not class-wise but life-wise. Luckily I only have two classes between now and Thanksgiving. But I still have a busy schedule. I haven't had a day off work since last Tuesday. Saturday night at Sears sucked. We had a huge sale and we were open late so I didn't get out of work until 11:30pm. After that I was too dead to do anything except go home and fall into bed. The next morning I had to work from 8am until 4:30. It was a long weekend. Now after this class I get to go home and clean my house before I work 2-9. Tuesday I work 7am-1pm and then I get to go to Chemistry class. Wednesday I have this class in the morning and then I have to go home to my parents for the day to help my mom get ready for the big extended family Thanksgiving dinner we have at our house every year. Thankfully my last class on wednesday, Medical Term. from 6-9 was cancelled or I'd probably cry. On Thanksgiving I have to be at my parents by 9am to start cooking with my mom (it's a tradition). That night I have to go home early because at the Mall the day after Thanksgiving is called "Black Friday" because it is so unbelievably busy. Not to mention Thanksgiving night I have to deal with two of my boyfriends guy friends sleeping on our couch so they don't have to drive from Pittsfield to Bangor ant 3am on Black Friday to work. I work from 3pm-11pm which means I probably won't get home until midnight and I have to work the next morning. Ugghhh just talking about what I have to do this week is tiring.....

Week # 11 Freestyle

2005-11-21T07:47:00.000-05:00

This past week I decided to put highlights in my hair, just for a change. So I went to Rite Aid and bought some "brush-in" red-blonde hair dye. Well I went to my mom's house and asked my sister if she would do it for me because I would ruin it. So I sat in a chair in our kitchin under a bright light for 30 mins while she brushed dye into my hair. Evidently she didn't read the directions very well. When she did the highlights in the bottom layer of my hair she was supposed to rinse the dye out before she put highlights in the top of my hair. Yeah you can tell there is a disaster coming. Well after I rinsed all the dye out of my hair and blow-dryed it I THOUGHT it looked really good. The highlights on the top came out perfect. So I was happy. Well when I woke up the next morning and went to throw my hair into a ponytail and I screamed. In two spots underneath my first layer of hair there are bleached blonde streaks. I'm talking white-blonde polka dots! So now I'm in a predictment. I love how my hair looks down, the highlights on top are perfect, but underneath is a whole other story. So I had no clue what to do, but after tons of compliments on how my hair looked (without them seeing the underneath) I decided to keep the highlights and to stop putting my hair into ponytails for the time being.

Week # 10 Freestyle

2005-11-14T08:23:00.000-05:00

Writing about Bad things is always more interesting than writing about happiness. It draws the reader in quicker when a headline reads "Disaster, Destruction, and Mayhem" than when it is about nromal everyday things like Wedding announcements. I try to balance out my writing so that some of them show the good side of life, while the other show the more unseen/unheard side of my life. This piece might as well be titled "Friendship Ended".

When I was in High school I had two best friends. They were always with me. Kids at school and teachers always said we were joined at the hip. We took all the same classes, dated the same type of guys, got the same grades and planned to go to the same college. That didn't happen. I obviously ended up here at EMCC, my friend Sam is in Machias and Vicky didn't graduate. She had failed classes that Sam and I didn't know about. We are all still kinda friends. We speak on the phone a couple times a month but we are all worlds apart now. I'm living in my own apartment here in Bangor with my boyfriend. Sam is living in the dorms with a roommate she says is just like me and Vicky is wasting her life away drinking every night and smoking pot 24/7. She is dating a 35 year old man with two kids only because he buys her beer every night, a carton of cigarettes a week, and a bag of pot whenever she wants it. She has given up her dream of going to college and has decided to become a bartender, which she would fail at only because she would drink every shot she sold. Sam adn I have tried fruitlessly for the past few months to try and steer her clear of this predictament but she won't hear of it. Sam and I won't give up either, we'll see who lasts longer.

I knew we would grow apart, it was inevitable. I have no hard feelings about the fact they we grew apart because it was bound to happen, at least this way it happened for a reason other than us getting sick of each other. I'll always miss them becuase they were such a big part of my life, but all of us have friends we live near and we all have ties to the same town so we know we will still see each other frequently.

Week # 9 Freestyle

2005-11-14T07:53:00.000-05:00

I'm so excited! After class today I'm going home to Pittsfield to spend the day with my three favorite little kids. My niece Eve, and my nephews David and Issac. Issac is still just about 5 months old so he won't get to hang out with us all day. I'm taking David and Evie to the Inside Out Playground. It's this HUGE playground indoors in Waterville. Last time I took them they loved it so this time I promised to take them earlier so they would have a couple hours to play, and then I promised them McDonalds. It's going to be a great day. They're both only about two years and a few months but they are the most hyper and talkative kids I have ever seen. Eve actually holds a conversation with you, whether it's over the phone or sitting on the couch with you. David has the same vocabulary but he doesn't use it as often as Evie because he doesn't like to sit down long enough to do so. Hopefully I'll be able to have at least a little bit of control over them today, but most likely they'll walk all over me, and I won't mind. I guess my next freestyle will be telling you all about my day, until then....

Week # 7 Freestyle

2005-11-14T07:51:00.000-05:00

Well, Thanksgiving is coming up right around the corner. This year my grandparents (on my father's side) are coming up to visit and staying with my parents for two weeks. It ought to be very interesting. My grandfather was in the Korean War and has two purple hearts. He is this tiny old man, shorter than me actually, but he is jacked. He lost one of his eyes in the war and on "special ocassions" (meaning when a bring a friend around) he likes to pop out his glass eye and gross everyone out.

There's actually a funny story involving that glass eye. When my dad brought my mom home to me his family he left her alone in a room with my Pap. Well my mom was just blabbing away sitting beside my Pap on the couch. When my Pap didn't answer her she got up and went to my dad claiming that Pap hated her and that he wouldn't even talk to her. Well my dad went to see why and came out of the room laughing. He had to explain to my mom that Pap was sleeping and that the side she was sitting on was the side of the glass eye that doesn't close. When Pap woke up my dad told him all about it. He then preceded to walk into the other room where my mom was talking to my Gram and held out his closed fist. He said, "Lorrie I'm keeping my eye on you" and handed her one of his glass eyes. It didn't go over so well.

My Gram on the other hand is not only short but rather overweight. She was a nurse all of her life before retiring. My family say I am a lot like her, which is probably why we butt heads constantly. We are always doing something to piss the other one off. Whether I am dressing to offend or she sits down and changes the station on the T.V. when I'm in the middle of a movie or by making a comment about my cousin Amber (the black sheep and one of my best friends). I think that since we both know how alike we are we bait each other on purpose.

I love my Grandparents, but I'm sure as hell thankful that I'm not living with my parents anymore. Two weeks of bickering with my Gram would send me AND my parents over the edge.

Prompt Reaction # 10

2005-11-09T08:22:00.000-05:00

They say the best things in life are free...

So what about marriage? You have to buy the rings, which aren't cheap unless you get them out of a gumball machine. As for the wedding itself.. damn. I feel bad for any traditional woman who has daughters. It's supposed to be the best day of you life, but if it's going to be free than say goodbye to all that food and liquer/beer that everyone expects at a reception, forget the hall you need to hold all the guests, forget the big beautiful wedding cake, say goodbye to that expensive wedding gown, oh and the flowers, and the photographer, did I forget to say goodbye to the big beautiful chapel?

You're forgetting that the whole idea behind marriage is that it's for love, beacuse you know you want to spend the rest of your life with this person, marriage is giving you the way to do that, and THAT is why it is the happiest day of you're life, not because of the decorations and material things!

Oh honey, only you could lie that good. Weddings are all about flash nowadays...

Not all of them!

Yeah all of them. But if you want to be stubborn and believe such lies then I won't stop you, I'll just give you another example. How about health. Health is probably the right up there on everyones "best thing to have in life" list. At this day in age Health is more expensive than anything else. I mean c'mon, you know it's bad when they're slamming old people for their perscriptions!

The way I see it is that you can take care of yourself throughout you're life, by eating healthy and exercising. If you practice good hygiene along with these than what kind of health problems can you have later on in life?

Have you ever heard the word "hereditary". You could be the healthiest person in the world and be screwed over by an illness you got only because someone in your family had it before you. Or you could be hit with something completely unpredictable. Prime example: Lance Armstrong. This guy won the Tour de France how many times? Then he got hit with cancer.. all through his body. He was an extremely healthy man but I bet he still had to pay a shitload of money for treatment. No, health isn't free.

Okay I admit some of the best things in life aren't free... but some are. Aren't they?

Everything has a price honey.. everything...

Week #5 Freestyle

2005-11-09T08:14:00.000-05:00

I'm running out of things to talk about in these freestyles. It's easier for me to write about something you give us a prompt for, this makes me actually pull ideas out of my head. Anyway, I guess the only thing I can talk about is my crazy family again. I can admit that my uncles are hicks, no, rednecks, no BOTH. Luckily, my mother and aunt didn't follow that same path, they're as normal as can be. I'm an open book and I have no problem blabbing about my stupid uncles. At least they make some funny, or at least interesting stories.

The latest act of stupidity that my uncles have graced my family name with is probably their most idiotic yet. Being not only rednecks, but men they love to brag. As I'm sure you can guess my uncles all hunt. Well, on opening day they saw two deer. And here comes the bragging part. They wanted to brag that they shot something so two of my uncles each shot at one, and hit them both. The thing is they didn't want to tag them because then they wouldn't be able to hunt the rest of the season. So they cut it up in the woods and left what they couldn't in the pits in Palmyra. So there's two down, my third uncle didn't want to be left out so what does he do, walk away? Hell no. He shoots the first turkey he saw. No it's not turkey season, but that didn't stop him. He picked up the shell casings and went home. A smart move for him, even if it was among many acts of stupidity.

As with any action, there must be a consequence. With a negative action there will almost always be a negative consequence. This rule was not about to change for my uncles. They were caught, as they very well deserved. The two uncles who didn't want to tag their deer and have to stop hunting this season each have a $1000 fine and will not be hunting for the next five seasons. As for the uncle that shot the turkey, he has a $500 fine and cannot hunt the rest of this season.

Prompt Reaction # 9

2005-11-07T07:59:00.000-05:00

When I lived in Pittsfield I could walk down the street without almost getting run over. Here it's nearly impossible. I miss the leisurely walks in my neighborhood with my dog tucker. It was so relaxing. It's as if it were yesterday...

It's fall, my favorite season, I love the changing leaves especially the ones I see walking along the four wheel trail. I always bring my beagle Tucker with me, and of course we have bright orange on, Tucker is used to it, he's a hunting dog so he has his own little puppy orange vest, it's really adorable. As I admire the brilliant yellows, oranges, and reds Tucker enjoys his "marking-every single tree" time. But the trail is only so long and a girl can only stare at trees for a certain amount of time. As we walk out of the woods and on to a main road the scenery is extremely different.

The trees fade into the background and people burst into view, ahhh... socialization... my favorite part of taking the dog for a walk. It's a chance to get out and see other people taking their dogs for a walk. As I pass the few people on the slow street I admire how our dogs don't even bark at each other, they know each other because of the small size of the town. As Tucker and I continue on our way home I realize that unless we turn around and go back to the four wheeler trail than we have to walk straight through downtown to get back home. I keep going hoping I'll see some of my friends. We chug along until we hit Main St. Cars are more common and people are out enjoying the crisp fresh air. And that's when it happens. Awww, Tucker! Do you always have to wait until there's someone walking by to squat?! That's so embarassing! C'mon... we just walked along the four wheel trail for 15 mins.. why couldn't you go to the bathroom there?! No, you just had to pee in the woods and pop a squat in downttown. This is humiliating Tuck! Oh God, why do you torment me so?! Screw the scenery, my head drops to the ground and I get a lovely view of concrete the next two blocks.

When I finally raise my head I realize I'm still in a part of downtown. Geez. Well maybe he won't humiliate me again. My eyes wander to the busy sidewalk infront of me and I take in the sight of my High School, other than the fact that it's all students hell until they graduate, the buildings themselves is actually rather beautiful. Before I could really appreciate the view Tucker was at it again. No, he wasn't popping a squat. He was having one of his "attacks". This is a beagle thing. They have this pallet that gets stuck when they sniff around too much and they do this hacking thing to get it unstuck, well Tucker had one of these in the middle of downtown, ughhh this walk was never going to end! I'm used to him doing it that I know that he's going to be fine, but others dont.People kept stopping me and asking if my dog is okay, and I'm just patiently waiting for it to end, again enjoying the lovely view of concrete. When he finished I lifted my head long enough to find an entrance to the four wheeler trail and walked through the trees until I found it, knowing it would lead me straight to my house without the chance of another embarassing moment.

I was wrong. Tucker got the scent of a rabbit and even though he was just a beagle he managed to knock me right off balance and **SPLAT** right into the mud. I barely managed to hold onto the leash as my arm felt like it was ripped out of socket. By now I was pissed. I picked up Tucker, cared less if I got even more dirty and marched home. As I walked out of the woods I noticed a bunch of cars in my driveway. Shit. I forgot mom was having a Mary-Kay party with some of her friends. Just what I need, to walk into the house covered in mud while my mom and my friends are buying beauty products. I went out back and put Tucker in the fenced in area and dragge my feet across the carpet, finally giving up and kicking my shoes off. I ignored the comment and walked straight to my room, and stared at the ceiling for the next hour. Now thats heaven to me.

Week # 8 Freestyle

2005-11-04T08:29:00.000-05:00

Halloween was a success. I didn't go as anything too crazy. I had to work that night so I had to tame down my costume. I was dressed as a Gothic Fairy. I had high stiletto heels, purple and black striped tights, a black and purple stringy miniskirt, a purple top with a spider web design, and a pair of huge black sparkly fairy wings. Everyone loved it. But I was beat on best costume by a "guy" named Charlie. Charlie is a new cashier that is... well, a little different. When I first met Charlie I was walking up from behind. I took in the long blonde hair, tight khaki pants and skin tight shirt. When Charlie turned around I noticed the 5 o'clock shadow, the adam's apple, the layered face makeup and the boobs. In other words i was thoroughly confused. When Charlie said "Hello" it was in a mans voice. I had no clue what to think. I kept my shock to myself and learned that Charlie associates with "he/him" and is also one of the nicest people I have ever met. No one at Sears understands him, but we don't want to ask the questions that are burning in all of our minds. Anyway, as I was saying, Charlie beat me on best costume. He worked that night too and came as little miss muffet. Yep, he looked exactly like a girl. He had on make-up, his hair had ringlets, and he wore high heels. He definately looked amazing. He fooled many customers and many were shocked. The sad thing is that a lot of the older customers complained saying it was unnatural, which is just them be ignorant. Another problem was that some of the guys that worked there said Charlie's skirt was too short, but mine was the same length, if not shorter and I got compliments. It's just ignorant. I have no problem saying Charlie kicked my ass in the costume contest, and he did it with ease. All around, Halloween was a blast, especially in the kid's department where me and Charlie worked all day, kids loved us.

Prompt Reaction # 7

2005-11-02T08:37:00.001-05:00

Damnit! Those stupid cats did it AGAIN! How do two tiny kittens manage to knock over an entire freaking trash can? Okay, it is a small bin, but c'mon! They never do it when it's empty, oh no, they do it when it's almost full! And of course, as usual David isn't here when it happens so he can't pick up all that nasty garbage, nope, it's up to me... again. First off I have to find thos little shits before they knock it over while im throwing trash back in it... I know they're hiding, they can tell I'm pissed, aand I'm allowed to be!

Okay, they're locked in the bathroom, now I can get this done as quick and painlessly as possible. Yeah right, painlessly---so not going to happen. So I take a deep breath, exhale slowly and get ready to be grossed out.

This isn't as bad as I thought, a few balled up paper towels, some tea bags, empty T.V. dinner boxes, mac'n'cheese boxes, Ramen noodle bags, oh damn... damn damn damn! I knew my luck wouldn't stand up, here comes the nasty stuff... David and I's last date- the one where we were supposed to go to the movies and he ended spending all his money on that damn Red Sox movie set that cost $130, so he didn't think he could afford to go until after rent was paid, oh here's a really yummy piece of trash, it's David and I's last fight, that stupid one about going to my parents on his only day off-- that one was my fault because he really wanted to sleep in and I wanted to be at my parents in the morning so the kids were there, I tried to get him to go and got mad when he didn't want to... sometimes I'm a little bitchy. A few more balled up paper towels, some q-tips, a couple empty coffee cups, a couple of soup cans that we forgot to recycle along with some cat food cans..oops, some crumpled up fast food bags, and the trash is back where it belongs, in the can. I tied the bag up and said goodbye forever to all that nasty trash as I threw it into the dumpster outside, washed my hands and smiled in relief that it was gone. Oh yeah, and I let the cats back out, and they managed to steer clear of the empty trash can, but I doubt next time it's full it will be knocked over again, maybe this time David will be there to help my pick it all up, hopefully.

Prompt Reaction # 8

2005-11-02T08:37:00.000-05:00

"I think Therefore I am"
This is an obvious story I am about to tell you. I had this problem in High School, Freshman year to be exact, when I thought I was fat. Therefore I dressed as if I was. I looked like crap because I believed I was fat I dressed in clothes that were too big and baggy for me, in an atempt to hide the "fat". It didn't work, it made something I'm not. It also got my parents mad at me. Actually they were confused. Of course as parents they said "aww honey you're not fat, why would you think so?" In my head I'd say, why don't you ask Mikey why I think I'm fat, it's all his fault for telling my everyday that I'm 'chubby'. Anyway, it got to the point that my size 9 pants changed to a size 13 just so they would be really baggy and my t-shirts went from a medium to extra large. I swam in these clothes, but what I didn't notice was that they weren't hiding what I called "fat" but they were in all actuality making me look fatter. I didn't see that until my brother actually pointed it out, yes, the same brother who told me I was fat in the first place told me I looked even fatter in the baggy clothes. I thought I was fat, therefore I made myself look fat. Luckily, I realized it before it was too late and I ate the food to make me fit into those size 13 pants!

Graf #16- Contrast Reaction

2005-11-02T08:26:00.000-05:00

I read the contrast essay about the difference between a father and a son. Steering clear of summarizing the entier peice I will say that it made a huge impact. The differences between father and son were vast. I like how she used four differences and that the differences aren't things you'd see by taking a quick look at someone. She really dove in and revealed some very personal aspects of her life and family. She doesn't make excuses for her father and that is good becuase if she had made a whole nuch of excuses it would have taken away from the piece. She didn't exaggerate either, you could tell that the differences were the differences she saw not a spin off the differences she saw. She did a really good job at writing something so personal, it must have been really difficult.

Contrast Essay

2005-11-02T08:13:00.000-05:00

There’s always that boss that you hate, the boss that lives to make your life a living hell. He/She seems to thrive in your suffering and you can’t do anything about it because you’re at step one or two on the totem pole, nowhere near their level. Well I have two bosses, Ann and Denise. Two women, same job, and a multitude of differences between them. They are similar in many ways but the most obvious are the differences between the two. Ann is short with long curly hair, and Denise might serve just as well as a lumberjack. Another difference is that Ann is very precise but Denise takes it to a whole other level. All around, Ann is easier to talk to whereas Denise seems distant.
At 5'2, with crazy curly blond hair flying in every direction and a clip board glued into her hands, Ann appears to ricochet off the walls. Her face is always bright and her eyes are wider than a three year old on Christmas morning. She practically hums with energy like a power line on a quiet, hot summer day. Denise on the other hand…eeek. She must be at least 5’8- 5’9. The best way to describe her would be “butch”. She has really short non-descript brown hair, thin lips, beady eyes and the body type of a lumberjack. She has broad shoulders and even dresses in a more masculine way. Since I began working at Sears I have yet to see Denise honestly smile. Her lips remained pursed as if she was permanently sucking on a lemon. Unlike Ann, Denise seems drained of all energy, her voice is always monotone and low pitched and her movements appear to be sluggish.
Looks are an obvious difference between any people but another difference between Ann and Denise is how strict they are when closing. I’m an MCA at Sears, which mean Merchandising, Customer Assistant. In other words I’m the busiest person there. An MCA basically stocks the floor all day and when we aren’t stocking the floor we’re making sure the store still looks good and that it’s “shopper friendly”. MCA’s also answer the phones. I guess a good way to describe an MCA is to say they look like chickens running around with their heads cut off answering phones and cleaning up. When Ann is closing you know you’re going to be there about a half hour after closing to make sure everything looks beautiful. Every stack of shirts must be folded and stacked like a perfect deck of cards. Every rack must be sized and every rack must be colorized. Ann helps us as well so after the store closes we get out anywhere between 9:15 on a slow day and 9:45 on a busy day. It is an MCA’s nightmare when Denise closes. She’s been known to keep us there until 10:30 sometimes. She makes us go out back and check the stockroom and make sure that is in order AND clean the floor to perfection. She on the other hand just stands there and watches unlike Ann.
I’m a very talkative person. My main pleasure in life is interacting with people. I am also a very friendly person. I was smart enough on Day 1 at Sears I made sure to befriend my boss Ann, mainly because I didn’t know there was Denise. I didn’t meet Denise until the next week. I have an easy comradery with Ann because she is also a friendly person. When I work with Ann we joke around and chat with the other MCA’s while we get the job done. Denise is a whole other story. The day I met her she was yelling at me. She didn’t realize I was new and was pissed off at me because I couldn’t answer a customer’s question. I got a five minute “lecture” before Rocky jumped in a saved me. He told Denise that it was only my fourth day and Denise just said “okay” and turned around and left. She didn’t even apologize. Rocky told me not to worry about Denise because she was a bitch and everyone there knew it. He told me to just steer clear and I’d be fine. I have yet to hold a conversation with Denise but surprisingly she has complimented me on how good a job I am doing, but before I can say anything she turns around and walks away.
Well, like everyone else who has had the boss from Hell I am still hoping she’ll change. I can’t be too upset though because I do have Ann. Life can’t be perfect. The only good thing is that Denise rarely closes and since I’m in school I usually do close because of day classes. I guess that famous saying is ringing true now, “You have to take the bad with the good.” And I like this job enough to do just that.

Graf # 15

2005-11-02T07:49:00.000-05:00

I had fun writing the classification essay. I loved writing a peice about shoes. I think that this obsession that all girls have with shoes is hilarious and so illogical. I'm not excluding myself in this obsession I can fully admit that I love shoes and I follow those rules I described in the Classification essay to a "T". I am included in it yet I still have no real understanding of WHY girls are like this. I'm oblivious. I doubt any girl could tell you why she loves shoes, and be truthful about it. The Classification essay gave me a chance to publicize some of the aspects men don't know about women's romance with shoes. (You couldn't see this but I was holding back a laugh the entire time I was writing this paper!)

Classification Essay

2005-10-28T08:41:00.000-04:00

Girls and Shoes. That's right. Those two words have a very strong bond. The bond of obsession. Girls are obsessed with shoes. Everyone knows that. There are of course those few girls who try to argue that they aren't obsessed with shoes but that’s not true. This same girl will have the same three types of shoes all women need. And she will have more than one pair of each. A girl doesn't need to have a million pairs of shoes to be shoe-crazy. All she needs are at least one pair of the basic three. Men are flabbergasted at the idea that shoes serve a purpose more profound than just to cover you feet. They think there are only sneakers and boots, a few might even be acquainted with dress shoes but on a "wedding/funeral instance" only. Girls know there are a dozen different types of shoes out there and while some of the more extreme shoe-crazy will have each kind, what I want to talk about are the basic three. There are three types of footwear that ALL women own at least one pair of. These include "Hooker Boots", comfy sneakers, and a multitude dress shoes in black and brown at the very least.
"Hooker Boots" aren't that different that what pops in your head with the two words. These shoes are slutty and usually sport a heel size anywhere between 2 inches high to 5 or more inches high. They are either long boots that go up to at least your knee cap, if not mid-thigh, or tiny little strappy shoes that show off the brilliant red toe nail polish. In any case these heels are more often than not stilettos. If you don't know what stilettos are than imagine balancing your weight on a pointed toe and your heel resting on a toothpick sized sole. They serve a very similar function as their name projects. They are shoes that are incredibly uncomfortable but they direct a man's attention to you. They add ten times the amount of sway in your hips than you were born with and the height that many women lack. These aren't the shoes you wear to church with Grandma, these are the shoes you pair with a miniskirt and a club or bar. Like I said, EVERY girl owns a pair of these shoes. Even I do. I don't wear them anymore because I'm too busy to go out to a club but they served their purpose in their day. My boots were not bought just to attract the opposite sex but to piss my grandmother off. Put it this way- Polish, Traditional Roman Catholic Grandmother visits Miniskirt wearing, stiletto heels wearing, nose pierced, tattooed Granddaughter and her Punk-style, ear pierced, tattoo sleeved, living with in sin, boyfriend. Yeah, it's THAT much fun to shock my dear old grandma. But like I said, these boots are made to serve a purpose and that purpose has nothing to do with family acceptance.
Sneakers. The lounge- around, keep in shape, and most useful pair of shoes a woman owns. After braving the elements in high heels every woman needs to give her feet a rest and that is done through comfortable, and of course cute sneakers. These sneakers are comfortable now but comfort isn’t usually the reason girls pick out any of their shoes, even sneakers. They go by the latest trends, and their favorite colors or styles. The irony in girls buying sneakers (which are meant for comfort…) is that by the time the sneakers begin to be broken in and become actually comfortable girls go out and buy a new pair because her month old sneakers are “gross and old” which they obviously aren’t. I never said that girls were logical when it comes to footwear; I think I’ve proved the opposite by now. I own three pairs of sneakers. My oldest ones are barely a year and they are worn only when I can’t find my other ones. They are no longer in style and they are perfectly molded to my feet, therefore it would a sin to wear them, especially since they are the most comfortable shoes I’ve ever had. My second pair is a few months old and they are still worn occasionally because they are still new looking. My newest pair of shoes were bought only because they were really popular and of course my favorite color-pink. These sneakers are hardly broken in; they’re just past the “giving- my- heels- blisters” and the white parts are still brilliantly white. So of course those are what are on my feet when I choose “comfy shoes” instead of “Hooker Boots” or dress shoes.
Every girl owns dress shoes. These are the one pair of shoes we really do buy out of necessity. They serve a very practical purpose. All girls have at least one pair in black and one pair in brown. Dress shoes range from dressy flats (no heel) to ankle high boots. These are to be worn to work or church and can be worn at home or in more casual setting. It is my observation, and in my own experience, that dress shoes are the shoes that are worn most often because they can be worn in a professional setting and a casual setting. The reason the sneakers stay so clean is because they are worn so little in comparison to dress shoes. I own four pairs or dress shoes: one pair of brown slip-on flats, one pair of black slip-on flats, one pair of brown dress boots with an inch and a half heel, and the same style dress boot in black.
Let’s take a step into a woman’s closet. Let me paint you a picture here. You open the door and flip the switch, and you are blinded by the brilliantly white light casting a heavenly glow into the closet. You wait for your eyes to adjust to the light and you begin to wade through the sea of clothing as you descend to your knees. There it is, holding every girl's obsession is the shoe rack. Tip it over. Count the shoes. Hypothetically we’ll say you are in a middle-class woman’s closet and after picking up the 6 or seven pairs of shoes notice the differences in them. Some are dirtier, some are cleaner yes. But look at the physical differences. The first pair that will catch your eye will be those tiny, sinfully high, strappy heels, so red you swear you burnt your fingers putting them back. Then there are a few very similar pairs you barely notice as you place them back in their respective places, they are the same thing you see on the ladies you work with so they don’t really catch your attention. The final pair you pick up to replace have a speck of dirt on them, you can tell by looking at them that it wasn’t there before so you wipe it off and notice the tags are still on them and they appear to be never worn. As you pick them up the receipt falls out and you notice they were bought three months ago. You shake your head and stand up and fight your way back out of the jungle of women attire and step back into the logical world.

Classification Intro #2

2005-10-26T08:28:00.000-04:00

Girls are obsessed with shoes. Everyone knows that. There are of course those few girls who try to argue that they aren't obsessed with shoes but thats not true. This same girl will have the same three types of shoes all women need. And she will have more than one pair of each. A girl doesn't need to have a million pairs of shoes to be shoe-crazy. All she needs are at least one pair of the basic three. Men are flabbergasted at the idea that shoes serve a purpose more profound than just to cover you feet. They think there are only sneakers and boots, a few might even be aquainted with dress shoes but on a "wedding/funeral instance" only. Girls know there are a dozen different types of shoes out there and while some of the more extreme shoe-crazy will have each kind. What I'm talking about are the basic three. There are three types of footwear that ALL women own at least one pair of. These include "Hooker Boots", comfy sneakers, and a multitude dress shoes in black and brown at the very least.

Classification Intro #1

2005-10-26T08:27:00.000-04:00

Girls and Shoes. That's right. Those two words have a very strong bond. The bond of obsession. Every girl knows it and every guy cannot comprehend it. This obsession doen't have to be extreme, it could be though. There are three types of shoes girls must have a pair of. Ask any girl what she has hiding in her closet and I can gaurentee she'll tell you she has at least one pair of "hooker boots", a pair or two of good sneakers and a multitude of dress shoes ranging in color from the basic black and brown to any color under the sun. She'll tell you she NEEDS every single pair and will go on to explain why and when she wears them.

iSearch "What"

2005-10-21T08:46:00.000-04:00

1. Is Post-Traumatic-Stress inevitable?
2. How did having the internet available help him handle this situation?
3. Since he was able to communicate with us so regularly and we could actually hold a two-sided conversation instantly, did it affect how he would be able to talk about the war with us? 4. He never gave us details and didn't talk about what was going on there, he only told us he was doing okay. Will that change now that he is home and safe?
5. Will he be able to talk about his experiences now that he knows we won't worry?

Those were the questions I asked in my "Why I am Writing" section of this paper.

What I already know about my topic is surprisingly little. I know that in past wars the most common problem after-the-fact is Post-Traumatic Stress and I've seen movies were the solider freaks out later on in life and goes into a rage or into a fantasy-world where he thinks he's back in the war. I also know that The internet surely helped my family at home cope with the distance and the situation Mikey was in over in Iraq. I know we relied on it to keep us from worrying as much as we could have. My brother never talked about what was going on over there. He never told us anything about what he was doing and seeing. I think that was for our benefit so that we wouldn't have a heartattack or stay up all night scared for him. Finally, the only other thing I know about my topic is that there is a slim possibility that Mikey never saw anything. That he went over, served his time and saw nothing at all horrific. If it comes down to that then I can always go about my topic from another view. I would approach it with the same questions but worded a tiny bit differently. Either way, whether he saw gruesome things or not this experience was definately not a pleasant one. He was dropped into a Middle Eastern country and left there for over a year, that had to have an effect on him, culture-shock in the very least. He had to learn how to survive and he had to adapt.

Graf # 14- iSearch Progress

2005-10-21T08:26:00.000-04:00

So far I believe I've made really good progress on my iSearch. I have my Background, 'Why I am Writing', and my 'What' complete. All three have left you saying I'm all set. So now I have to work on the next section and start my research. I have to have a long conversation with my brother too. I'm actually excited about writing this essay because it is something so personal. That was your aim all along wasn't it? Unlike other teachers you assigned a paper that I was actually motivated to write. Good job doing something no other teacher has acomplished.

Graf #13- Reaction to Class. Essay

2005-10-21T08:25:00.000-04:00

The classification essay I read was about men. To be more specific it was about "snakes, snails and puppy dog tails". I can't say I like it but thats because I'm not big on 'man-bashing'. I mean, I understand that she's been treated bad by men in her life but it's just something you live with and learn from. As I was reading it I didn't think all men fit into one of those three categories that she gave. She recovered my interest when she closed by saying that she knows not all guys are like that but the she just hasn't found one yet. After reading that small paragragh I went through and read it again and I think I appreciated it better because of that. The second time I went through it I laughed at the metaphors she used and it made me appreciate her sentiment.

Graf #12- Research History

2005-10-21T08:23:00.000-04:00

I HATE research papers. Well, I hate the research papers I had to do in high school. Before high school they were easy little 1-2 page papers on things like sea animals or sports figures. Then high school came. Whispers of an enormous paper flitted through the hallways as the lowly freshman and sophmores did their short research papers on Greek Gods and Romeo and Juliet, until that fated Junior year. Oh My God. I think my high school teachers were certified torturers. Have you ever heard of a Manson Essay? No? Lucky you. Just the name of it in my old high school, MCI, would bring a student to there knees in tears if the were anywhere near their Junior year, and the seniors would shudder at the memory. Sometimes we wondered if the kids that stayed back in the sophmore year did it on purpose just to avoid THAT essay.This was an essay that had a minimum of ten pages. You picked one topic and had to research it in all your classes. It had to be something you could weave into every subject except math of course. It was huge. It was stressful. You had to use 5 different internet sources, 5 book sources and had to have one personal interview. I took months. You had to keep every page of info you gathered in a notebook with the important parts highlighted and re-write them in your own words. AT the end of the paper we had to do a perfect bibliograghy by MLA standards. On top of having to do all that research and write that long paper you had to memorize the key points and give a 20-30 minute re-cap infront of the entire Junior class. The the best ones had to do it over again infront of the ENTIRE school. It was the hardest assignment in my entire school history. When you said we were going to have a big research paper I stopped breathing, my hands started shaking and the memory of the Manson Essay flashed through my eyes. It was horrific. Thankfully yours is easier and is cut up into sections that make it more organized and less stressful, and its shorter. I like it better because it is more personal than the Manson essay was. The Manson essay was about as detached as it could be. It was just a straight out, "don't use 'I' or 'You' " kind of paper. Just talking about it makes me shudder......

iSearch- Why I Am Writing

2005-10-14T08:35:00.000-04:00

In the second week of my brother's stay I decided to express every last feeling of fear and love I had for him, my only big brother. I wrote him a 4 page letter telling him how I never meant it when I told him I hated him and I told him I prayed for him everyday. The letter he sent back to me is the reason we have such a good relationship today. It wasn't the letter from a big brother. It was a letter from a brother who happens to be a solider. I can only explain the difference between the two by saying that the letter was full of pride and faith and love. He told me not to be scared because war isn't like it used to be. He said that it was far more advanced and that he wasn't even near the "font line", he did few convoys and basically worked on construction. He told me everything would be okay. Not long after I recieved this letter my brother was moved to a camp where internet was available to the soliders. It gave us the oppurtunity to speak to Mikey through Yahoo! Instant Messenger. It was my brother's link to his family. I think that Yahoo! was the only reason my mother didn't have a breakdown while my brother was in Iraq. My brother not only had instant messenger but he had a WebCam. This was my favorite. It helped reassure myself and the rest of the family that he was alive in one piece. It really was a Godsend. We were able to talk to my brother almost every other day unless he was on a convoy. For that reason I chose to write about the affects of war on a soliders communication with his/her family. I have a good amount of soliders in my family. Both my grandfathers, my brother, and my cousin just to name a few closer ones. Now that my brother is done serving in Iraq and is currently on his way home I have all new worries. You can't go through high school without talking about war history, with the history of war comes the talk about what happens to surviving soliders. My biggest fear is that my brother will return home and not be able to talk about his experience. I'm scared that he will have some severe form of Post-Traumatic Stress and that it will affect the rest of his life. The hope that I am holding onto is that because there was internet and he was able to communicate with all of us reguarly and easier than earlier soliders were able to. My questions include:

Is Post-Traumatic-Stress inevitable?
How did having the internet available help him handle this situation?
Since he was able to communicate with us so regularly and we could actually hold a two-sided conversation instantly, did it affect how he would be able to talk about the war with us?
He never gave us details and didn't talk about what was going on there, he only told us he was doing okay. Will that change now that he is home and safe?
Will he be able to talk about his experiences now that he knows we won't worry?

These are just my base questions. I'm sure that more will pop up while I'm actually talking to my brother about this.

Week # 6 Freestyle

2005-10-12T08:16:00.000-04:00

SO.... I'm trying to plan my halloween costume. I have some ideas and I know what i DONT want to be. I don't want to dress up like a lot of girls do in teeny0tiny little revealing costumes that serve no purpose but for grabbing male attention and freezing your ass off in the end of October in Maine. No little playboy bunni costumes or nurse outfits for me. Nope. That was never my style. I like to be creative. I mean, every year I get commended on my coice of costumes and I've won numerous "Best Costume" contests at school. Some of the cotumes I have worn are:

A Newsie, you know, the little boys who stand on the street corner in the "Old Days" yelling 'EXTRA, EXTRA! READ ALL ABOUT IT.." I had the complete costume, down to a handmade newspaper I made about things going on in school.
Another year I went as a Floozie, a girl from back when girls started to rebel and wear their hair in bobs and show a little leg and began to smoke cigarettes.
One of my less creative I deas was a surgeon. But I had the hook-up since both my parents worked in hospital settings. I had complete gear. From a face mask, down to scrubs and a stethoscope and lab coat. I had nurses shoes and the little covers that go over them. All covered with splatters of red lipstick (for blood).

So This year can't be any different. I want to be something bright and flashy and WARM. Hmmm.... I really can't think of anything I want to be. I know I want to wear like bright rainbow leg warmers and arm warmers. Maybe I'll go as a 70's Roller Disco Queen.. YEAH. That sounds like a plan. Now I just need to dig out some old roller skates and find a blond afro and I'll be all set. This is going to be FUN!

Graf # 11

2005-10-12T08:15:00.000-04:00

Writing the Cause Essay in the way we did actually made it easier than sitting down and trying to write the whole thing at once. By writing the intro and outro before I even wrote the middle actually kept me focused. It kept me from overlapping and rambling. I knew that I wanted to voice my worries about getting accepted in the nursing field and by doing that in the outro it kept me from hinting at it in every paragragh where it didn't belong.

ISearch Intro

2005-10-12T07:46:00.000-04:00

From birth my brother and I were like enemies. I was the spoiled baby of the family and Mike was the only son. We were definately fighting for control of most spoiled. We didn't just fight physically but emotionally. We knew each other's triggers and which buttons to push to set the other of either crying (that was me) or swearing (Mike and me). If I had to pick one of my most happy memories with my brother from childhood point of view, I would say the day my brother left for Army Basic Training. I was so excited that for once someone bigger and meaner would be bossing HIM around. It was an odd sense of justice. My whole view of my brother changed the day I walked onto Fort Jackson to watch my brother graduate. He had changed so completely. I was... well.... mature, finally. I didn't think much of the change becuase I had only gotten to see him for a few days before he left for Airborne school. It wasn't until last September that my family got that gut-punch. My brother was being sent to Iraq. We didn't want to believe it becuase Mike's 3 years he enlisted for were due to be over the end of that month. The Army gave him no choice but to re-enlist. Since that day my brother and I's relationship has changed. I guess this is the kind of thing that makes you see what's really important. It brings up all new worries along with the worry of safety and the possibilities of not returning. One of the worries would be how this whole experience would change Mike. We wondered how he would be able to talk about things that happened to be over there. Luckily for us, unlike earlier wars the internet was available for Mike to use rather often. It made a huge diffference in his experience becuase he still remained connected to his family. I wonder how the differences in communications technology have changed how soliders are affected by the war.

Cause Essay

2005-10-07T08:06:00.000-04:00

Like all children I dreamed of becoming a ballerina, a doctor, even a lawyer. My career dreams changed more often then my socks. The whole time I was dancing around in that little pink tutu or operating on my favorite teddy bear and taking Raggedy Ann to trial for pulling Barbie's hair, I was ignoring what was right infront of me. I won't lie and say I wanted to be a nurse since I was little. I just finally decided to pursue a career in Nursing my junior year of high school after career counseling with my Academic Advisor pointed it out to me and told me how perfect a job it would be for me. Three things weighed my final decision. The first was my parents, both are nurses. Secondly, I excell in sciences therefore medicine is a natural path for me to follow. Finally, Nurses make really good money. There are infinate reasons why I decided to be a Nurse but these three are the ones that stand out the most to me.

My parents started out in career's that were completely out of the norm. They met in the Air Force where my mother was a Jet Mechanic and my father was a Nurse. A little odd don't you think? My mother later went on to become a nurse and work in a nursing home for 26 years before it shut down. My father is to this day a very successful Registered Nurse at EMMC. In grade school I was always the first person to be asked if I wanted my father to come in for Career Day. It was always interesting to see the other kids reaction to a topic I didn't understand. I grew up with a father in the Nursing field and I didn't know why it was so unaccepted. It didn't make him any less masculine if anything I believe my father was one of the toughest guys I know. My household was full of nurses. My Aunt is also a nurse. AN LPN to be exact. From the day I was born I was introduced to Nursing. I participated in all the "Take Your Daughter To Work" days at both a Nursing Home and Eastern Maine Medical Center. It was there that I got my first taste of what Nursing was like. I grew up seeing my father in scrubs and my mother in the typical white nurses scrubs. But I never saw that Nursing was an option for me. It wasn't until my parents said they were surprised none of their kids went into a medical field. Between them and my Academic Advisor I decided that I could very easily excell in the Nursing field.

I have never been good at math, isn't that what most people say? I definately do. My mathematic skills were very inferior to the grades I got in my science courses. In high school I took four math classes altogether, one every year. I took nine science classes ranging from Forensics and Environmental Science all the way to basic Botany and Astronomy. I also took Psychology and Psychology of Communication. These were courses that not only interested me but I aslo recieved an A in each of these classes. My lowest grade out of all my science-related classes was a 92. I loved sciences. When I went to see my Academic counselor in 11th grade when I still had no idea what I wanted to go to college for she set me up with this test that asks random questions and based on your answers it gives you three career's that it thinks you would excell at. The top one was Nursing/Medical Field.

My final reason for wanting to be a Nurse is the amount of money they make. Nursing is one of the higher paying medical jobs and it is one of the most in-demand fields as well. My father has been a Registered Nurse for 28 years in the same hospital. He gets paid between $90,000-$100,000 a YEAR, granted it is because he has worked so long in the same place and he is also the Head Nurse of Grant 5 (Trauma/ Head Injury). My father makes enough money as a Registered Nurse to support my family while my mother doesn't work. After the nursing home she worked in shut down she became a "stay-at-home-grammie". Like most young adults today one of our biggest motivators is money.Our biggets concern in picking out a career goal is the amount of money it will yield. We all want all to get rich quick. I won't lie and say I don't want to be poor and hard-working when I can be rich and hard-working.

In conclusion, even with my reasons listed above I still have doubts about my choice to pursue a career in Nursing. I wonder if I'll actually like it or if I'm only doing it because my academic counselor planted the seed in my head. My biggest doubt is that I can't make it. The nursing program is extremely hard to get into and I doubt that I could be one of the 25 they let in each year. That's my biggest worry right now. I'm not worried that I can't handle the job and everything it entails, I just want the chance to prove that.

Prompt Reaction # 4

2005-10-05T08:15:00.000-04:00

Kera Cummings was her name. She was average height for a 14 year old girl, with a small waist and wide hips connected to thick thighs, she had medium length black hair, a splash of freckles, and a few slightly crooked bottom front teeth. She had a laugh that reminded me of a chipmunk, and eyes that could burn a hole through the back of your head when you pissed her off. She was a good friend, my worst enemy. She was the girl you wished you could be like in some ways, for example the amount of freedom her " I couldn't give a shit less" kind of parents gave her. She had no rules to follow and no cares in the world. While I envied her of that I also pitied her. She did have a stepfather that cared but she was too used to her freedoms to care. She was manipulative and a compulsive liar. She cared only of herself and took no responsibilty for her actions. If I could forget one person in the world it would be her. She is the last person I want to remember, but I remember her like it was yesterday.

She had this way about her that drew you to her. The summer before my eighth grade year Kera and I met another girl named Savannah. The three of us became unseperatable. It was then that the true Kera came out. She couldn't be friends with both of us. She couldn't stand that Savannah and I had become close friends, she was scared that we would forget about her so she did something to ensure that. She went behind both of our backs and completely turned us against each other. She did the whole she said this/she said that routine. The last straw was the day she told Savannah that I hated her sister and wanted to "beat her up" ( Her sister was a Junior in HIGH SCHOOL. I was a pipsqueak back then not even in high school yet!) Of course Savannah and I had been turned against each other so she didn't give me the benefit of the doubt and Savannah's sister got into may face one day at the end of the summer and yelled and screamed and threatened to beat the shit out of me if I even tried to touch her or her sister. I had no clue what was going on. The whole thing was a big jumbled mess until Savannah and I's parents sat us down together (without Kera) to talk it all out. It was then that we figured out what Kera had been doing and finally realized just how manipulative and selfish Kera was. That was the last day either of us hung out with her. Savannah and I have been close friends ever since.

Graf # 9-React/Cause-Essay

2005-10-05T08:13:00.001-04:00

I read a cause essay about a woman who took ballet and explained why she did. I can honestly say I laughed when I read about the chicken costume she had to wear, but that's what she gets for trying to be someone she's not. The first reason she gave was that she just thought she wanted to be a ballerina and thats a good reason to pursue something but the second reason wasn't. She was doomed to hate it since she was only doing it to be like someone else. I have no pity for her on that one. The third reason is my favorite mainly because I know that there is probably no child out there who hasn't taken up something and wanted to quit it but their parents forbid it. I liked this essay becuase she sounds like me. I've done the same thing. I used to take up things and quit them a week later and it agrivated the hell out of my parents. But they knew what was best for me. When I first started soccer I was bored with it after my first year and then my parents told me I couldn't quit until I got to High School and I didn't. I started to love soccer and it was only replaced when I started Cheerleading in High School. But I did play until I was in High School and loved every minute of it.

Graf #10 React/iSearch

2005-10-05T08:13:00.000-04:00

I read the iSearch by Kassy Wakefield. You can really tell her heart is into this paper and that she's really worried about the things she's researching. I can see how this topic is perfect for the questions that she has. And I can definately see how excited she is about being pregnant but that there is an underlying fear of the unknown "pain". By reading her iSearch I got a better look at how this paper is going to work and it's basic layout. By seeing it all set up I can predict how I'm going to work mine out and what topics I'm going to need to cover so that I don't put all my ideas into one section or "all my eggs in one basket".

Cause-Outro

2005-10-05T07:52:00.000-04:00

In conclusion, even with my reasons listed above I still have doubts about my choice to pursue a career in Nursing. I wonder if I'll actually like it or if I'm only doing it because my academic counselor planted the seed in my head. My biggest doubt is that I can't make it. The nursing program is extremely hard to get into and I doubt that I could be one of the 25 they let in each year. That's my biggest worry right now. I'm not worried that I can't handle the job and everything it entails, I just want the chance to prove that.

Cause-Intro2

2005-10-03T08:29:00.000-04:00

Nursing is too limited a word. A nurse does more than just help people heal physically. A nurse is compassion, a friend, a confidant and a bridge from patient to doctor. A nurse cannot be summed up using just one word. A nurse must be able to handle stress, and long hours. One must be unselfish and empathetic. These are what makes a nurse, not just the ability to "nurse" a person back to health. They deal with all aspects of science, from psychology to actually dispersing of medicine and completeing physical care. It is about the mind as well as the body. These are what make up what I want to be. My choice in a career is centered around these aspects of the nursing concept. The characteristics listed above are what makes me want to become a nurse. If I had to pick three top reasons that I am so dedicated to nursing then they would have to be: Firstly, that Nursing is such a vast area that you can mold any aspect of your intrest around it like Pediatric Nursing, or Psychiatric Nursing. Next, I chose the Nursing field because I believe my strong points are compassion and empathy. Finally the third major reason I am in Nursing is my ability to handle high-stress situations.

Cause-Intro1

2005-10-03T08:22:00.000-04:00

graf # 8

2005-09-22T08:34:00.000-04:00

We all have that perverbial black sheep in the family. My just happens to be my uncle on my mother's side. Not a holiday goes by that him and I don't get into a fight. He is the most racial and gender-biased prick I have ever met. And that's putting it nicely. He is from Texas and thinks he's a cowboy. I alsways heard that cowboys were gentlemen. He is definately the opposite. I love my uncle becuase he is family, but I do not like him. He goes out of his way to piss me off too. Especially when he is drunk, which is 99% of the time. He gets repulsive when he is drunk. I believe our last fight which was one of the smaller was centered around racism. His attitudes embarass me more than ever, even if he doesn't say anything infront of the people he is bad mouthing. This fight was one of our smaller fights and it happened at my grandmother's house. Every Saturday my mother's siblings and their spouses and my grammie get together to play cards. My uncle was of course drunk and I was over there becuase I had come up to see my family for the weekend. The Red Sox were playing and they weren't doing very good and the first reason out of his mouth was It's because of all them damn niggers on their team and all those fucking mexicans ( he thinks Manny is mexican..) I can honestly say I flew off the handle. He doesn't understand you when you try and say " Uncle Mark please don't talk that way. I know I can't stop you from doing it every other time but when you talk like that infront of me it makes me uncomfortable." No that doesn't work he just brushes you off. So I got confontational. I screamed and swore and basically told him just how ignorant he is. The same thing I tell him everytime. We get into it and fight until my mother pulls us apart and I go home. I can't stand being around him for more than five minutes and I am usually the person who walks away because he is so dense anything you say just escapes his ears. If I could change anything about my family it would be his attitudes because it disgraces me and my family. His ignorance is not bliss.

Week # 4 Freestyle

2005-09-21T07:58:00.000-04:00

I just adopted two of the most adorable little kittens. I got them from the same litter so they look a lot alike. They are black and white and tiny since they are only nine weeks old. I got two because I just couldn't stand to take them away from each other, and they were the only ones left out of their litter. When I first saw them they were curled all up in a ball with each other and I knew at that moment I had to take both of them. When I got them home to David and I's apartment they went wild. They were flying in and out of every room exploring every little crevice they could squeeze into. We still hadn't named them that night and I still had no clue what I wanted to name mine. David and I each picked "our" kitten to name. Of course, David, being from Boston and being a die hard Red Sox fan decided to name one of the kittens Yawkey which is the name of the street that Fenway Park is on. After almost two hours of debating what I could name my kitten (and completely disagreeing with David's suggestion that I name my kitten after something about the Red Sox too) I finally decided on the name Socket. I chose this name because my kitten is a little fluff ball and it looks like he stuck his tail into an electrical socket because his hair sticks out in every direction. It's very adorable. Monday night was our first night with the kittens and they definately made it memorable. They were playful and attacking us the second we tried to fall asleep. When they finally calmed down they decided to plop down in the most inconvient of places- our pillows. So we shuffled them off and went to bed with them curled up between us. When I woke up in the morning I had two tiny warm bodies curled around my head, and a tiny little white paw resting on my cheek. It was cute and I really didn't want to move it but when the kitten went to stretch and I felt it's tiny little claws come out I bolted up. The kittens decided they wanted to be lazy though and just rolled over to wrap around David's head. Since then I have figured out that I have two of the most lazy kittens ever, and two of the biggest pigs. I think it might be because the family I got them from didn't feed them well, there was about 10 adult cats in the house and a few dogs outside so I don't think they really got the appropriate amount of food. Now they don't have to worry about it because David and I fully intend to spoil them.

Week # 3 Freestyle

2005-09-19T08:22:00.000-04:00

I'm a rather small town girl. Sadly enough, to me Bangor is a pretty large city. Pittsfield Maine is out in the middle of nowhere. When someone asks me where I'm from and I say Pittsfield Maine they usually just look at me with confusion. Most of the time they've never even heard of it. It's the epitome of small town. Especially my neighborhood. I believe the most common reference to my neighborhood would be Pleasantville. My town looks like the color version of the town in the movie Pleasantville. The houses almost all look the same. The yards are perfectly kept, usually with bright, colorful gardens and everyone knows everyone AND their business.

Bangor is like a whole other world to me. I have lived in my apartment for a few months now and I couldn't even tell you my neighbor's names, let alone what they look like. The first week in my apartment I woke up really early at around 5:30 because I am a light sleeper and I thought I had heard something. I did. We have a dumpster at the other end of our parking lot and when I looked out my window to see what the noise was there was a man going through our dumpster! I immediately shook David awake and told him to look outside. (Just for background information- David is from Boston.) When he asked me what was wrong I told him there was a man going through our dumpster and he looked outside then came away from the window laughing. He told me to "leave him be, he'll leave when he's done". I was shocked. I was like "What if he's going to try and break in or kill us in our sleep?!" Again he laughed. He said he saw it all the time in Boston, "it's no big deal he's just looking for bottles". Well, after he said that I felt horrible. I told him I was going to start leaving my bottles on the outside of the dumpsters so he wouldn't have to dig in for them. He told me not to. He said if I purposely left things for him he would never stop coming back, and I didn't want to admit it but the thought of waking up to a man in the dumpster every morning was making me a little nervous, and I didn't want to have to walk out to my car to go to work and wonder if he is indeed harmless. I might sound like a scaredy-cat but I am truely a small town, very sheltered girl. I hadn't seen things like that in my neighborhood and it made me paranoid to see them now. So we stopped thowing our bottles in the dumpster and since then the man has yet to be back. Thank-god. I'm starting to get used to Bangor though. I can finally navigate my way through Bangor's streets and I definately like the fact that your business STAYS your business here. I think I might like the city life. Even if Bangor isn't exactly a "big city" to everyone else, it sort of is to me.

graf # 7- Object

2005-09-19T08:21:00.001-04:00

Just for a little background information you need to know that I am a sappy romantic. I have always loved romance movies and of course I still read every romance novel I can get my hands on. So you can see where my attitudes towards love and relationships comes from. Now that you know that I can tell you that my most precious possession happens to be a ring. Not just any ring though. I got this ring the day I started dating my current boyfriend. It was my freshman year of high school, and me being the girl who lived off romance novels thought that if I was dating someone I had to have a ring on a silver chain around my neck, because that's how they did it in all the books and movies. David just happen to have a ring from the catholic/prep school he attended until eighth grade that was very similar to a high school class ring. This ring has been in my possesion since that day. I wore it everyday around my neck until the chain I had broke, I have yet to buy a new chain but that ring is still sitting on my dresser, scuffed and beat up from 4 years of swinging around my neck and going everywhere I did. The shiney silver has dulled a bit but the blue stone hasn't changed since the day I got it. It's funny when you work in a job how many older people come up to you and ask you about the ring around your neck. I had this one old lady I will never forget come up to me a while back. She told me how romantic it will be and showed me the ring she still carried even after her husband passed away. Hopefully my ring will survive that long.

Prompt Reaction # 3-Convo w/ self

2005-09-19T08:21:00.000-04:00

"Ughh... another day of classes."
Tell me about it... such a vicious cycle!
"I forgot to study for my chemistry test... I'm so screwed. I really hope I can get in some time to study for at least a half an hour."
Oh c'mon you had plenty of time last night to do it when you got out of work. You just put it off and you we both know it. I tried to tell you to study, but no. You just had to pick up that lousy book and sink into it. Why couldn't you sink in to your chemistry book? We both know it would be a lot more profitable.
"I shouldn't have to make excuses to myself but... yesterday was a long day. I had to work all day and the day before too. I have a busy week ahead of me and I wanted at least an hour...or three with a novel instead of a textbook.. is that so much to ask?
" I'd like to past the test..is THAT too much to ask seeings how we're in college for a reason.. remember that dream.. you know... the one where we want to be a nurse.. chemistry is a NEEDED class. We can't advance without it. They won't even take a second look at us.
" I know it's a needed class. It just gets so tiring the lab after lab after test after test.. It's like a never-ending nightmare!"
No a never-ending nightmare is like that one you had last week.. you know the one I'm talking about. Hahahaha...I had to get revenge for you putting me through that 400 pg romance novel.. you're killing me here!
"Back to the subject of chemistry here. I suck at it. Just because I'm not good with math. It all stems back to lousy math teachers. If I had better math teachers growing up I would breeze right through chemistry."
Oh yeah I remember some of those math teachers.. Mr. Oliver...Mr. Morel...Ms. Hallet...Ms. Amsden.. they give me the chills just thinking of them...Wait though. You can't blame it on all of your math teachers. Ms. Amsden may have been an evil old hag but she didn't believe in you and look how hard you tried to prove her wrong. You walked out of her class with an A.
"Ms. Amsden was a different story. I hated her so much. She told me over and over again I couldn't do it. She compared me to my brother who was rotten in high school and her worst student! I was not going to let her be right. I worked my ass off for that damn grade. I got the highest score on my final and the overall highest grade in Algebra II. Proving her wrong was one of the most triumphant days of my life. By the way, why do you keep squashing all of my excuses?"
Because you need to take responsibility for not studying. Why run around in all these circles? Just admit to me that you didn't study because you were too damn lazy to!
" Fine. I just said 'Screw it' and decided to put off studying last night becuase I just didn't feel like doing anything productive!"
Now was admiting to yourself that you put it off THAT hard? It only took a couple sentances and you are no worse for wear. Geez. Why do we have to go through this whole spiel everytime?
"Because my conscience doesn't know how to shut up."

Week #2 Freestyle

2005-09-16T08:37:00.000-04:00

Of all the things I don't like about being away from home I think the most obvious is missing my family. They live in Pittsfield, and I know that's not very far away, it's just hard to get there between school and work. The people I miss the most though are my niece and nephews. They are both a little over two years old now. My sisters had them twenty days apart and since then they have been my amusement. My niece, Eve, looks like a mini version of myself except without the freckles. Everyone says she acts like me when I was little. I know I'm biased but I think she's the cutest little girl. She loves to dress up and wear costume jewlery, but what little girl doesn't. Her big thing is Dora the Explorer. At this point in time she's starting to learn basic colors and numbers. So thanks to Dora when we hold up something red for her to say she yells Rojo (the spanish word for red) instead of red. Not to mention when she counts and the number two sometimes comes out in Spanish. It's really amazing that she's actually learning parts of a second language even before she knows her first language. As for my nephew, David, he's another story. He is the picture of my brother at his age. WOW. Not only is he an exact replica but his personality is the same as well. He is wild. I've barely ever seen the kid sit down for long enough to eat unless you strap in a highchair. Even then he wiggles around. Before he was even two he had stitches, his teeth went right through his bottom lip when he tripped while running away from a nap. Once he's on the move there's no stopping him. He just got little brother, Issac. My sister just had her second child a few months ago, and although I haven't gottten very many chances to see him I can already tell he's going to be short and a little chubby. I can also tell that he is going to be the calm one out of the two. Being at school and living in Bangor takes away a lot of the time I'd like to spend with my family, but then it's always a treat to go home and have everyone flock to my mother's house because they miss me too, and I always make sure my sisters know ahead of time when I'm coming so they can make sure my favorite little kids are there.

Week #1 Freestyle

2005-09-16T08:20:00.000-04:00

For the first time in my life I'm not living under my parents roof. YAY! That's one of those things that comes along with being in college. I don't live in a dorm room though like the majority of first year college students. I have an apartment with my boyfriend. We decided to move in together a year ago and decided we would both go to the same school. Together we decided on EMCC because it was still close to my family and easier to afford in the long run. Our apartment was an amazing find. We spent this entire summer looking for just the right place. We didn't want an apartment that we just "liked" becuase we wanted to be able to live in this apartment for at least 3 years. You wouldn't believe some of the places we saw. Some were disgusting and dirty, in broken down houses, others were tiny but expensive, the worst part was the landlords who always seemed just a little too creepy for me. We finally decided the best thing to do was to go to a reality managment agency and give them an idea of what we were looking for and our price range.

Amanda from Hughes Reality set us up with our apartment. She said she had the perfect one for us and took us out to Elm Street. Our apartment costs us $550 a month ALL utilities included and FREE cable! We have a huge living room and kitchin, a large bedroom and a walk-in closet (every girls fantasy!). Our bathroom is also spacious. Our apartment is set up like a Ranch style house so we have no tenants above us or below us, they're beside us. It works out really well because you can't hear anything through the walls and it's a really quiet area. We have a laundry room, lawn care services, free snow removal and plenty of parking space. It's the perfect little place for us because it is about three minutes from EMCC and the Bangor Mall where we both work.

Graf # 5

2005-09-16T07:58:00.000-04:00

As cluttered as it sounds my bathroom sink is very organized. My boyfriend and I have our own seperate sides and his doesn't have nearly as much stuff mine does. Thats not very surprising though. I do have an order to my side that works for me. I don't have it all scattered. My hairbrush has a holder connected to the wall, and a basket holding my elastics and make-up. I will admit that my side can become very disorganinzed fairly quickly though. I have a habit of getting up in the morning and after getting ready for work or school I just leave my stuff where it falls. I will always clean it up later that day though. David's side however only gets messy when some of my things begin to migrate to his side, which is rather often. For college students we surprisingly keep our entire apartment clean but our bathroom sink is the one you'll find is usually the least organized.

Graf # 4-- List

2005-09-16T07:43:00.000-04:00

On the bathroom sink at my apartment there is:

one tube of toothpaste, squeezed in the middle
one hairbrush, long brown hairs curling around each peg
one comb, clean as the day it was bought
11 hair elastics ranging from black to light brown
two toothbrushes, one distinctly female (very pink) and one distinctly male (blue and green)
Velocity Face wash and Moisturizer knocked over in the corner by the mirror
make-up varying from 6 different eyeshadows, two different blushes, one tube of mascara, two lipsticks tubes, a cherry flavored chapstick, and a small bottle of liquid foundation
two bottles of perfume, one Belong by Celion Dion and one Victoria Secret scent
one wicker basket holding make-up and hair elastics
on the opposite side of the sink there is a can of Gillette Shave Gel and Aftershave , there is also a Mach 3 razor
one spray bottle of liquid Bacitracin for a rather new piercing and one almost empty tube of Bacitracin left over from old tattoos
Q-tips in a small plastic travel case

graf # 3 blog reaction

2005-09-14T08:43:00.000-04:00

The entire time I was looking for a blog to comment on I kept getting blogs in tons of different languages, it took me about fifteen minutes to find an english one and then another ten minutes to find one I liked. It was about success. In this mans blog he looked up the meaning of success in a Webster's dictionary and did not like the definition that it gave him. He did although notice some similiarites between everyone who succeeds. For example, when a person succeeds they must try hard to do it. I liked this blog mainly because it took something fact, like a dictionary definition and he twisted it by adding in what he believes is a better way of putting it. The only thing I didn't like about it was that he could have taken it much farther than he did. It was a very short blog, he took the time only to give the definition of success and his definition. He didn't go into any depths about what was similar other than the work it takes to achieve it.

Prompt Reaction #2 Third Person Descrip.

2005-09-14T07:44:00.000-04:00

You don't know me. You probably know someone like me though. I'm the girl who always has a comment. The one who's eyes fly in your direction the second you walk into the room. The one you glance at nervously hoping to see an approving stare. Most the time you won't. I notice everything about you, from your clothing choices right down the the way you carry yourself. You smile at me, thinking "maybe she'll like me if I smile, or at least she won't be so harsh..."
Not happening. If you're my target of the day then you might as well hide in a corner and take the gossip. You could never challenge me. Never.

She did though. That one girl will be in my mind forever. I watched her walk into the room, her head held so high she was probably noticing the water stains on the ceiling. She never even looked in my direction. She just kept walking. She had no idea what I could do to her. She was nothing compared to me! He short dark brown hair was not styled everyday, I've seen her before. Half the time she wears it in nothing but a sloppy little ponytail! She doesn't wear American Eagle or Gap like me, no, she wears JC Penney jeans and old sweatshirts. She doesn't even have a manicure! Her nails are bare and cut short. Her face didn't even have a touch of make-up, and those freckles..ughh! She has non-descript glasses that barely hide her regular old hazel eyes, she could at least try colored contacts to add a little flare to her face. Maybe in a purple hue or a gray, anything but those common hazel eyes and she really should wear earings. She has her nose pierced too! But she had it pierced two years ago when it wasn't the big thing to do. She had it pierced when it was completely looked down upon. Doesn't she know that as a girl she should be high maintnance and dressup, flaunt what we have? She doesn't even behave well in class! I mean, she actually pays attention and writes down the assignments, which she will do dilligently. That's not what your supposed to do, that will get you labeled as a geek, by me anyway. She doesn't even flirt with the guys! Alright, so she has that guy she's been with for like two years now, but that doesn't mean she can't have fun and flirt with all the other guys. Then again, maybe they wouldn't flirt with her and she's scared of rejection. I mean she isn't a size 3 and she's not exactly a face for television. I don't see where she gets the confidence to stand up to ME! She's not as popular as me, she's too busy trying to get into the nursing program and working. She's too busy to hang out after classes and gossip with the rest of us. She has to run from class to work and then home.

I won't stand for this. She can't do this to me. Everyone sees her defying me! They can tell she doesn't give a shit about my opinion. Grrr.. I will NOT let this happen. If I let her get the best of me then who knows who will be next! Time to teach her a lesson. I leaned towards the girl next to me, the biggest loud mouth in the school and grinned as I covered my mouth with my hand lightly whispered in her ear as I stared at the girl who was about to become the most embarassed girl ever. I expected her to look at me and I couldn't wait to watch the tears well up in her eyes. She didn't though. The girl next to me smiled as I whispered and then when I pointed to that overconfidant little...anyway, when I pointed to her the loud mouth next to me stood up, carried her hands to her hips and looked at me confused. "You mean Adrianne?" she exclaimed. Who else would I mean? That loud mouth actually had the nerve to stand up and walk away from me. She proceeded to sit by Adrianne and whispered in her ear. It was then that my world crumbled as Adrianne burst out laughing. I was finished.

Prompt Reaction # 1

2005-09-12T07:58:00.000-04:00

It's one of those rare moments, I'm completely alone. That's okay though. I like being constantly surrounded by family and friends, but sometimes a girl just needs time to think, to relax, and do absolutely nothing productive. That was my plan anyway, the doing absoultely nothing productive part. I can tell you right now that my plan disappeared within the first five minutes.
Everything started out right. My plan was to just lay there on my bed with no distractions. When I say no distractions I mean no television, no radio, not even a book. I tried to clear my mind and just relax, but my mind did not cooperate. First it focused on the low hum of the bedroom light, a sound I never really took the time to hear. Then, like a young child it began to wander towards the brightly colored perfume bottles on my dresser. There was no stopping it there. Next came the distant sounds from outside my window, the faint sound of cars speeding down Stillwater Avenue to the construction punding two streets up. When I was finally able to block those sounds I started hearing the vacum in the apartment infont of mine. I thought my walls were thick, but once my mind began to strain my ears towards the sounds it was a symphony of noises. Not just the vacum cleaner but the television, and even the whisper of voices reaching over the roaring vacum.
Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse my mind began to wander, not towards the sounds around me but the sounds within me. I could hear the steady beat of my heart, and my quiet, even breathing. I heards the voices of everyone I had recently talked to, going over every converstaion I had that day. My mother's lecture on not coming home to visit enough, my father's questions about my schooling, and my boyfriends questions about paying our rent. It all began to swirl together becoming a tye-dye version of my thoughts. It turned into one loud roar, no sound heard more clearly than another. I squeezed my eyes shut and held my hands over my ears, trying to physically stop the spinning sounds. Slowly, they began to dull and I cautiously lowered my hands and opened my eyes, only to close them again. This time I closed them but did not squeeze them, I let my eyelids rest softly on my cheeks and concentrated only on breathing slowly. Before I knew it my mind was completely blank, I couldn't tell you what I heard then though, because I had fallen asleep.

graf # 2- Worst Teacher

2005-09-09T08:30:00.000-04:00

Ugggh. Math. Not only was it my worst subject, the hardest concept for me to grasp, but it also brought Mr. Oliver into my life. He was beyond horrible. Mr. Oliver had been teaching at MCI for 26 years when I was put into his algebra class my freshman year of high school. He was a short, rather round older man with a comb-over. He wore pink shirts and odd ties that usually clashed with the shirts he chose to wear. His personal appearence isn't what made me dislike him though. It was his style of teaching that irritated me. He was the kind of teacher that would stand at the blackboard, back turned away from you and just write and write, mute the entire time. I do better in classes where the teacher talks to me, visual props help but I need to have verbal communication for me to understand any difficult concepts. Mr. Oliver taught me nothing.
He never demanded respect in his classes, and we never gave it to him. He was unattached and distant to his students, he didn't seem to try, so neither did we. We would be rowdy and loud. We treated him in a way that just begged for dicipline, mainly because we need him to be attentive, to teach us something actively. He would give after school detentions, but we never showed up and he didn't pursue it. He yelled and got angry and assigned more homework and everyday half the class would come in without it, and again he didn't pursue it. We would ask questions, and he would skirt around them. He would just go back to the blackboard, turn his back and use up an entire stick of chalk just writing equation after equation, not noticing the puzzled looks on our faces or hear the sighs of frustration we made so obvious.
As a person I believe Mr. Oliver is amazing. I have seen him in his yard playing with his grandkids and I have seen him with his wife. Outside of the classroom Mr. Oliver seems like a very loving man, which I never doubted. In a classroom setting he morphed into a totally different man. He wasn't a bad man, he just need to apply the personality I saw at his home to his classroom. He was a very intelligent mathmatician, he just had a hard time relaying the concepts he knew so well to the less mathmatically inclined.

graf # 1

2005-09-09T07:35:00.000-04:00

My hands are extensions of my soul, the tools of my expression. When I have a point to make it is enhanced by the violent sawing of my hands through the air, when I am nervous they clench, wring, and sweat, and when I am scared I honestly think they could hit a ten on the Richter Scale. I would describe my hands as portraits of my personality. They are not pampered or well manicured, in fact there are only a few faint chips of nail polish left. My hands are neither calused or blistered but they show eighteen years of athleticism and a sad habit of biting my nails when bored. There are randomly placed hangnails and even a few scars left over from childhood games. Overall, my hands speak more about me than my mouth ever could.