Hello! This is blog number five. In this assignment, I had to answer some questions regarding my first draft of my memoir. I also had to watch three videos from the Wizard of Oz, If I Only Had The Brain, Heart, Nerve, Meeting The Wizard, and You’ve Always Had The Power. Watching these videos showed what the characters wanted (heart, brain, and nerve), and realizing they had them all along. This sort of logic applies to writing a story. I know I have it in me but I’ll have to go through a process to get what I need out.
For the story I chose, I had to think back to a time when I was going through a lot. I was young and stupid, and I didn’t understand how the choices I made would affect me and those around me. I realized looking back now that I was very selfish but also lost. I didn’t have anything stable in my life and I was doing certain things in hopes that it would take away that empty feeling. And I’m happy that now I’ve gotten myself to a good point, with school, work, and those I surround myself with. When I was writing this story, it took me back to being seventeen again. I felt as if I was a young, rebellious teenager again, and to be honest, I didn’t like it. I get angry at the fact that I was so careless, and if I could go back in time, I would smack the shit out of me. But back then, I didn’t have any strong feelings about what I was doing or realized how awful it was. I liked how I felt and I thought that it was right, but now I know better. Picking this as my story to write about took a lot of guts. I don’t like to open up about this part of my life because I’m afraid people will judge me. I mean, I was only a kid but that doesn’t excuse the terrible things I put myself through. However, I like to think that someone else could read this story and relate. It’s a hard thing to go through no matter what age and I think having someone say, “yeah I’ve been there,” makes you feel less alone. Growing up in school, we always write about something fun we did over the summer or something along those lines so being able to write about an intense moment in my life was interesting. I felt like I had the ability to pick and choose what I wanted to focus on and how I realize that I do have control over my life. Everyone makes the decisions that get them where they are and I always thought I was just dealt a certain hand but really I’m where I’m at because of me. I definitely believe that the stories we tell ourselves shape about our lives shape our identity. I believe this because whatever happens to you happens, it’s how we process and react to it that makes us who we are. Processing and reflecting on a break-up, promotion, or any event is what causes you to become angry or happy or sad. Things happen, but it’s how we respond to it that shapes who we are.
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I’m back! This is blog number four, and in this assignment, we had to create a scene that involves a symbol and dialogue. I chose to write about the time I lost my high school friend group in the span of one night. In my story, there was a lot of back and forth arguments and disagreements, just like in Ernest Hemingway’s, “Hills Like White Elephants”, which is a story about a couple disagreeing on having an abortion. We had to read this short story for our class, and I had a fun time acting it out as well. Check it out in the link below if you have time, it’s a very interesting read.
Hills Like White Elephants (Ernest Hemingway) It was a late summer night in the early month of August of 2016. I was alone in my room, just me, my phone, and a bottle of wine that I stole from my mother’s fridge. It was a few weeks before my birthday, and my group of friends at the time were trying to figure out what the moves were for the last Friday before college started. I wasn’t going away to school, I was staying home but all my friends were leaving me. I wanted to have one last hoorah before things changed, before they went away, and before I was by myself. I decided to have a bonfire the week before my birthday, it would be fun. We would be able to get drunk and we wouldn’t have to drive or sneak out anywhere. It would be perfect. “So I think I’m gonna have a fire on Saturday, the 13th, for my birthday” I sent into my group chat. There were six of us total, and we had all gotten really close over the course of our senior year. We did everything together, we’d have sleepovers, go shopping, gossip, basically anything you can imagine a group of 17-18 year old girls would do, we did it. “Actually, there’s a house party in West Grove that night. We should try and go to that,” Donna said. This made the other four girls chime in with a bunch of, “Oh totally! I haven’t gone to a party all summer!” or “Yesss lets turn up!” “It’s fine, we can leave your house and sneak back in afterwards,” Donna stated, “It would be so fun, and the other girls didn’t go out as much as we did.” “Well, my dad isn’t going to be cool with that. He’s not going to let me take my car and sneak out all of us to a house party,” I texted back, “And there’s cops out on Route One. If we get pulled over, I’m the one that’ll be fucked.” “I guess we can just go to your house for a bit, then leave to go to the party,” Donna texted back, “You don’t have to come with us, but can we come back to your house when we’re done?” “No?????” I replied, “I don’t want to go at all! Find somewhere else to crash at.” I picked my phone up, and texted another friend of mine, Marissa. She wasn’t apart of our group chat but she was friendly with all of them and was going to be apart of what I thought were my birthday plans. “I can’t believe Donna is basically blowing off my birthday for this stupid house party,” I ranted, “I really want to hit her right now.” “Yeah that’s dumb, I’ll do whatever you wanna do on Saturday,” Marissa texted back, “Donna is coming over tonight. I wonder if she’ll say anything about it.” I put my phone down and finished up the bottle, while wondering why my bonfire plans weren’t good enough. An hour or so went by when the little chirp of a ringtone snapped me out of my daze. “I can’t believe you said you wanted to hit me. I’m so upset,” the text message read from Donna, “I’m so hurt.” My jaw dropped, I can’t believe that little snake told her what I said. I went to her in confidence! “You know that’s not what I meant,” I quickly sent, “I was upset that no one wanted to hang out and do what I wanted for my birthday!” “We’ve been friends for years, and you said you wanted to cause physical harm to me,” even through text I could hear the drama in her voice. “Oh please, we always say shit like that when we’re mad,” I pointed out to her, but obviously, she wouldn’t hear it. For the next half hour, it was a lot of back and forth. A lot of “you said this,” or “you did that,” before Donna dropped an atomic bomb. “Our friendship will never be the same.” “Well if it’s never going to be the same, then there isn’t any point in trying,” I sent back. I can’t believe that this was happening to me. I knew I was going to lose them all if I got into this fight with Donna. She was the voice of reason and they were the blind sheep that followed her. I was always a good friend, and I never said anything bad about them throughout the course of our friendship. But, of course, the one time I let my anger get ahead of me and put it in writing, it comes back to bite me in my ass. I took my phone and blocked Donna, Marissa, and the other four girls on everything you can imagine. Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, even through text. I thought that doing this would help me move on and get over the heartbreak of losing all of my friends in the span of four hours. I turned my phone on silent and didn’t pay any attention to it for the rest of my sleepless night. Happy early 19th birthday to me! Hello again, this is my third blog post for my English Composition class. In this assignment, we had to pick an object that evokes emotion in us and write a scene regarding that object. Surprisingly, I knew exactly what object to write about. We also had to read Maya Angelou’s, “My Name Is Margaret,” which is a small section from her book, “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings.” In this passage, we read about this young girl named Margaret who deals with racism and is renamed to please her rich, white boss. She knows exactly who she is and she can’t believe she has to put up with being called something that isn’t her name. Her sense of identity relates to my story because my object and the person who gave it to me has helped me figure out who I am. Below, I’ll be posting a link to this little passage if you’re interested in checking it out.
My Name Is Margaret (Maya Angelou) “Where do you wanna do gifts at? In my room or in the basement?” I look up at Ryan, my very tall and nerdy boyfriend, as he looks down at me from the top of his steps. I come stumbling in his house with his Christmas gifts and the McDonalds I picked up on the way. I stand there with my hands full and reply, “Um..”, hoping he decides for me. “Alright we can go in the basement, you can go down, I’ll be right there.” I make my way down into the basement he recently converted in his “Man Cave”, he likes to call it that and I roll my eyes every time he does. I’m extremely eager to swap our gifts, so I place our huge bag of burgers and fries to the side and sit nervously while I hear him make his way down. It’s our first Christmas together so I don’t know what to expect on his end. Did he get me a lot? Did he get me nothing? Will I like what he got? Will he like what I got? After what felt like years, he finally comes walking down the steps, carefully holding this awkward wrapped lump with a goofy smile on his face. I give him a smirk and raise my eyebrow as if I’m trying to say, “What the hell is that?” He hands me this bundle of Christmas wrapping paper and as I go to move it, he butts in with, “Woah, woah, woah, keep it flat, okay?” Now my interest is peaked, what could he have gotten me that needs to remain flat? I smile at him as he sits next to me on the sofa and tells me to be careful opening it. I start to lightly rip at the paper which reveals a green Jansport backpack. He then gestures which pocket to open up, I could tell he thought carefully about putting this together. I open up the medium sized pocket on the front of the bag first, inside he stocked it with pencils and pens and a Starbucks gift card. He then points to the largest pouch and inside that I find a Harry Potter documentary. I hold it up and read the back, and he then gestures that there is something else inside. I reach in the laptop sleeve and feel a small box. I pull it out and come face to face with a delicate, rectangular, blue box. I lift open the lid and inside is the prettiest necklace I’ve ever seen. It’s has a thin, silver chain with a little green teardrop stone as the charm. It’s peridot, which is my birthstone. I fall in love with it, it’s simple yet elegant and it has something that represents me. “Do you like it?” he breaks the silence, “it’s peridot, your birthstone. Do you know that different countries have different birthstones? I looked it up to be sure.” I smile up at him and tell him I love it, and give him a kiss. I immediately put it on and start playing with it, getting familiar to the chain against my neck and looking down awkwardly at the little green stone I adore. Everyday I find myself mindlessly running my finger along it and overtime it’s become somewhat of a security blanket. My hand searches for it while I’m at work or in class to make sure it’s there and when it finally finds it, a sense of security and calmness washes over me. I never really knew who or what I belonged to, but since I’ve met Ryan, I know he’s who I’m supposed to be with and he helps me become a better person each day. I feel safe with him and my necklace reminds me of that, even when he’s not around. |
Julia PeabodyThis is my zone Archives
April 2019
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