Thursday, December 18, 2008

Reviews on What I Am Reading in Other Classes

To be completely honest with you guys, I was taking all writing classes this semester, so there wasn't really any books I was assigned to read. The only things that I read were from our class. The two short stories of James Joyce- The Dead and Sisters were alright, I guess. I have nothing against him personally, but sometimes he may be difficult to read. I mean for me anyway, because I am not used to reading his style of writing. He has many characters in his stories, and usually makes the narrator very close to all of them. Then when he uses dialogue he doesn't use quotation marks, which makes it a little difficult to follow who is talking and when someone is talking. Sometimes you have to read his stories more than once to really get into it, but isn't that true for most good literature.

Review on the Assignment on the Ending of the Fairy Tale

The fairytale assignment was my favorite one. I know that my ending wasn't that great, but I was fascinated by the endings written by my fellow classmates. You are all extremely creative. I guess the reason why my ending wasn't wonderful was because of my lack of sense of humor in my writing and because my creative juices don't flow as quickly as others. The fairytale itself was kind of humorous, so when I added my ending (you know the one where the frog urinated on the princess), it was a train cash because it lacked real humor and creativity. I needed more time to think about it. I guess this just means that I have to read more fairy tales, and more humorous literature.

Why I Don't Go to Reading Events? Hmmm...

I have always wanted to go to a poetry reading, or go to a reading of a famous author, or even to a book signing. The reason why I hven't gone to an event such as those is because I literally don't have the time. I've been taking 5 classes each semester since I started school last year, I have two jobs, and two children. When ever I am not at school or at work, I am doing my home work. Whatever little free time I have I spend it cleaning my home and hanging out with my family. I hope maybe once I graduate in May I will be able to finally attend a poetry reading. That would be extremely exciting for me.

A Plate of Fear a piece of my short story

My life changed completely when my parents died in a car accident around this time last year. I would have stayed at the cemetery longer after their funeral, but it had begun to rain really hard. So I went home and started cleaning up the attic, while my best friend Samantha prepared for the get together that was going to take place at one. My parents actually had sent me to clean up the attic years ago, but I always put it off. While people were down stairs for the gathering that Samantha hosted, I was in the attic the whole time cleaning up.
Cleaning was just something I did when I was upset. I worked on the attic all day and night. It was very therapeutic for me. As I cleaned I came across my mother’s holiday dresses and knitted sweaters. I picked up her Thanksgiving sweater with the huge turkey on it, and a picture of her entered my mind. It was Thanksgiving Eve the only day she wore it. She figured she might mess it up while she was cooking. She really didn’t like holiday sweaters, but my grandma from dad’s side always knitted her them as a gift. Mom didn’t have the heart to tell her she didn’t like them. She wore them the day before each holiday while she cooked because no one would see her and she had a chance to mess them up. I smiled and the tears started to form in my eyes because of the thought of my last Thanksgiving with her. I actually helped her cook. I picked up a big spoon of pumpkin paste from the pie I was making from scratch and flicked the paste at her sweater. She laughed and said “Stephanie, how dare you” as she snatched the spoon out of my hand and smeared it all over her sweater. I threw the sweater and wiped the tears from my eyes.
I kept on looking through and organizing boxes when I found my father’s winter coat. Behind the moth balls smell I inhaled my dad’s cologne and the strong fragrance of his favorite Cuban cigar. I remember taking the coat off the hanger, putting it on, throwing myself on a pile of comforters and crying myself to sleep. Thankfully Samantha remembered about me. She went to the attic, woke me up and then carefully walked me downstairs to my bed. I didn’t finish the attic that day. All of the memories of my parents were way too overwhelming and fresh for me.
Earlier today, a whole year later, I went back to the attic. I wanted to see if there was anything to get rid of, or sell at a garage sale. All the way in the back I found a big treasure chest. Why was I so intrigued by this chest? I have never paid attention to it before, so why was I so interested in it now? It was nothing special; it wasn’t like it was made of gold or anything. It was just an old wooden chest that was covered in dust, and cob webs.
I walked up to the chest and tried to pull it open, but it was locked. I found a crowbar nearby, wrapped my hands firmly around it and with all my force plied the chest open. There it all was, my childhood mementos. I looked inside and found the dress I wore for my Christening, my first Christmas outfit, my first walking shoes. I also found, my favorite teddy bear that was all beat up. He was missing an eye, his nose was torn and his arm was just about to fall off. I remember dragging Teddy around everywhere. I kept searching through the chest and found old report cards, along with a pink and purple striped blanket. I also found my cheer leading pomp-pomps, and then an antique wooden box. I opened it and found old pictures of my mom, me, and… another baby?
The other baby my mom was holding in one of the pictures was the same age as me. We looked also looked alike. We were both wearing pink dresses, white stockings and paten leather shoes, and in our hair we wore pink knitted bows. I turned the picture over and it read 11/1984. The picture was taken twenty-four years ago. What did this mean? Who was this other baby? Was she my twin? I kept looking through the pictures to see if there were other photos of the baby who shared my face.
In the pictures my mom seemed to still have her maternal pouch. She had huge circles under her eyes and a semi-smile on her face. She looked drained while she stood there holding these two very identical baby girls. The baby and I couldn’t be any older than a month or two. So what happened? Why hadn’t my mom ever mentioned this twin sister to me? Where is my twin now? I had all these questions, and no way of getting the answer. I kept staring at the pictures trying to remember something, anything about my past, but I couldn’t. For as long as I could remember I was an only child.
Suddenly, I heard the door bell. I was running down the stairs when I stumbled over a toy that I was going to throw away. I straightened myself up and took a deep breath to relieve my nerves. I walked to the door and checked through the window to see who it was. To my surprise it was Samantha. She had gone on a business trip to China six months ago, and wasn’t due back for another three more months.
Samantha and I have been friends ever since we were in the womb. Our mothers were best friends as well. I was anxious to share my secret with her and wondered if she knew anything about the other baby in the picture. I opened the door and welcomed her with a great big hug. We are usually inseparable, so it was really great to see her.
Samantha had her straight, long, blond hair wrapped up in a bun. she was wearing red lipstick and big white sunglasses that practically covered her whole face. Underneath her black and white pea coat she was wearing a black skirt suit and red pumps. I have never seen her dressed like that so I mocked her a little.
“Welcome back, Wall Street, how was your trip?”
“I am exhausted, I literally just got back.” Samantha took off her pumps at the door and put her coat on the rack. She walked toward the sofa and let down her hair. She plopped herself down on the white floral love seat. “The flight was a killer, I sat by this big older lady who smelled and kept falling asleep on me, it was terrible. So what’s up? What have you been up to lately?”
“Nothing really, except for…”
“I begged my boss to let me have a couple days off so I can be with you. I can’t believe it’s been a year already.”
“Thank you, but you didn’t have to come, I am fine. Do you want coffee or something?” It wasn’t the right time to mention the pictures. I really wanted to tell her, but something just stopped me.
“Coffee sounds great!” We walked to the kitchen and she sat at the table. “So, umm, when was the last time you’ve gone out of this house. You don’t look fine!”
My dirty blond hair was in a semi-pony tail. Little run-away strands of hair were all over my face. I was wearing bleach stained gray sweatpants along with one of Matt’s old t-shirts. Matt was a really sweet guy I started dating from work a little before my parent’s accident. My sneakers were detaching from the sole and made a mouth every time I walked. “I emailed you months ago, informing you about my new job. I started working from home for a medical billing company. I don't need to dress up. I like to be comfortable.”
“Yeah, but you don’t have to dress scrubby every day. Anyway, have you spoken to Matt lately?”
“No!” I haven’t really been in the mood to go out and or confront people. I hate when someone you love dies and everyone asks how you are and how you are taking things. How do they think I feel? I just lost my parents; I am as happy as can be. I don’t really say that. I grin while clinching my teeth, and say I’m okay thank you.
I pulled out some apple pie from the fridge ans asked Sam, “Would you like some, with your coffee? I have tons left over from the other night. I decided to bake and keep myself occupied.”
“Sure. He was a really nice guy; I think you should call him.”
“Soon. Hey listen I was looking through the attic and found some pictures of mom and I…”
“WOW, can I see them?” I was pouring the milk into the coffee, and thought that now was a good time to tell her. It will be easier to explain things to her if she actually saw the pictures. While she sat at the table drinking her coffee, I went to the attic to get the antique box. I brought the pictures to the living room where it was brighter because the sun shined right through the six large windows. My living room was fairly big, with white walls, a huge sky light window in the center of the ceiling and the floor was made of mahogany wood.

I hope you all enjoyed it, please feel free to comment on it.

Saturday, December 13, 2008

Favorite Writers

I am first going to start with Robert Frost, I read "The Road Not Taken" in one of my English classes. Every time I think about this poem I think about a family friend who is suffering from severe midlife crisis. He is unhappy with the decisions he has made in his life, and is always wondering what if he would have taken a different road. I found this very helpful website called a great website that can help you understand Robert Frost better. It is a site where you can type a title of one of Robert Frost's poems and then you will find notes, and interpretations that are written by other Frost followers.

Maya Angelou is my favorite female writer, as I may have mentioned before. I read parts of I Know Why Does The Cage bird Sing, and it was very inspirational. It's an autobiography with all the wonderful literary elements of literature to keep the reader's attention. is her official website. It's a very small website with a brief biography and list of a few of her books. There is also an article she wrote in the Essence Magazine in 2006.

Ernest Hemingway the writer of the very short controversial story called Hills Like White Elephants. I read this in college my sophomore year. I still to this day don't understand what the title has to do with a story about a man and a women who are apparently conversation about the decision to go through with an abortion. The man in the story is more towards the side of having one, while the woman is still unsure. If anyone understands the title's significance to the story, please feel free to post comment on my blog. Unfortunately, Ernest was a mentally ill man committed suicide at the early age of 61. The website is good website to find some of his works and a short biography, it also is a site of references to other Hemingway sites. So for those of you who are fans, feel free to check out this site.

One the reasons why I loved English class in high school was because of my "good old friend," Shakespeare. His work is so unique and romantic. I know contemporary literature is great, but I love Shakespeare. is the mother load of all Shakespeare websites. This one site can connect you to all the Shakespeare sights, books and magazines. Another great site for the fans.

The next writer I can recall is Scott Fitzgerald. Remember him he is the one who wrote The Great Gatsby, and created the two timing Tom Buchanan. Apparently folks in South Carolina admire him very much because the made a website just of him. It's a website with a bibliographies and essays on interpretations of his work. This website also has a biography on him.

Fav. Writers Continued

I hate to admit this, but I really don't read outside of school. It's so embarrassing I know, seeing how I am an English Major an all. Ever since I could remember I have never been a big reader. I never have the time, nor do I make time to read. I usually would rather watch TV, but this semester I didn't even have time to do that. There is no excuse, I have learned more than ever how important it is to read. The only authors and writers I know a little of are the ones we are taught in school. So the sites that I have shared so far with you are of authors we have read all throughout school. These next authors are of those whom my friends or family have told me about.

James Patterson the famous author of thrillers, my kind of books. In fact there are two books that he wrote that were made into movies that I love; Kiss the Girls and Along Came a Spider. These are both part of a series of detective novels with the main character being Alex Cross. is his official website. In this site you find similar things like biographies site were to purchase his work, but what makes this site cooler than the rest is the little clips of the movies the books were turned into.

William Paul Young, he wrote The Shack a very deep book about life and we are given choice. In the book Paul Young talks about why bad things happen and why God allows bad things to happen sometimes. Like I said a very deep book. My mother-in-law was the one who read it and told me about it. I couldn't find a website on William Paul Young, but he is on myspace if any of you are interested. The site I found was more about The Shack this site allows you to read a little of the book and the allows you to interact with others who have read the book so you can all discuss and take notes on the the message the book is trying to deliver.
Mary Higgins Clark is another author my mother-in-law told me about. Coinsedentally she has some Christmas novels out, one was just published Dashing Through the Snow. Some of her books are more for inspirational reads, just incase you were interested. Her website shows a little more about who she is, and you could learn more about her books.

Hunter S. Thompson was an author/journalist who sadly comitted sucide two years ago. He was famous for his book turned movie called Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. My friend said the movie is one of his favorites, but he admits that the book was a lot better. Thompson's official website, consist of a short biography, a collection of his work and a memorabilia auction.

Thursday, December 4, 2008

My Poem for Workshop

Might be sappy for some, I know there is room for improvement. Hope you enjoy...
Our Song

You and me against the world
Sometimes it feels like,
You and me against the world
When all the others turn their backs and walk away,
You can count on me to stay.

From the first moment
The doctors put me in your arms
The delivery room became really small
The five floating heads seemed to disappear
It became just you and me

In your arms
It was no longer cold
I was no longer scared
I knew that you were the one
Who would save me from harm.

I wrapped my little hand
Tightly around your finger
Assuring you that I will hold on to you
If you will hold on to me
This was our first step through a new life together.

You and me against the world Sometimes it feels like you and me against the worldand for all the times we cried,I always felt that God was on our side

My first words
My first booboo
My first step
The first time you had to leave me with someone else
I shared with you in those milestone tears

When I was two, we moved away
It was just you and me again
We lived in a small bedroom apartment
We were broke, and lived on Lipton soup and rice and beans
I was the one you held when you cried

Through school years
For all my stage fright
For all the times my heart was broken
For all the times I was betrayed
You held me and wiped away my tears.

And when one of us is gone,
And one of us is left to carry on
Then remembering will have to do
Our memories alone will get us through.

I’m an adult now,
With a son and a little girl of my own
They’ve held my fingers in their little hand
I’ve gone throw first steps, first words and booboos
I share with you those milestone tears

Though you may live far away
And we may not have a lot of time together
In the holidays or
Through the phone
We still have some happy and sad tears left to share.

I love you so much
I appreciate all you’ve done and all that you do
I can’t imagine a world without you
But I know that we are all on borrowed time
And that we will always have our song.

Just think about the days of me and youYou and me against the world.