1) I eventually want to earn my PhD in writing and I know that will take lot of writing. I would also like to publish a childrens book. I don't know the topic yet.
2) I know I have to clean up my writing, and I think I should read more, but since I read so much for school I kinda lost my reading love.
3) With this class I learned to look deeper into myself, and the deeper I dig the more I have to write about. I normally dig deeper into myself to get a clear direction for my life, but in this class I used it to get a grade.
4) My other classes I wrote fiction and now I am writing non-fiction. Both is interesting to me but non-fiction is harder.
5)I learned not to be shy in sharing my experiences.
6)I know I must work on my proofreading skills.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Blog #21 - Sue
ESSAY: Mom's Lover. My essay deals with my mother being an alcoholic and how it forced me into becoming or mothering my 2 younger sisters. Also how that experience with my mother's problem directly effected the mother I am to my 2 children.
PUBLICATION: http://www.literarymama.com/
AUDIENCE: that are writers. Sharing changes and views on Motherhood. On line magazine about motherhood.
PURPOSE: Giving mothers a voice. An outlet for mothers that are writers.
SUBJECT MATTER: The changes women experience about wanting to be mothers, becoming mothers or if you are in a mothering role.
FORM/ARTISTRY: Exploring ideas and emotions on motherhood. An on line magazine where mothers can share their views, ideals, feelings, thoughts on motherhood.
POLITICS: Give mothers a voice. Allow mothers to be visible. Community atmosphere.
DEPTH OF DISCUSSION: Narrative, personal, reflective, sharing, informative.
VOICE: Serious, personal, funny, intimate.
LENGTH: No specific length. It can be poetry, essay, short story, fiction, non-fiction, or a book.
SUBMISSION: All volunteers. No fee. Need to be a self-identified mother. Electronic submissions only, with cover letter. 500 - 7,000 words. One piece at a time. We are seeking personal essays and stand-alone creative nonfiction excerpts by mothers related to motherhood that read like fiction. We look for:
A distinctive personal voice.
Attentiveness to language, rich details, lyrical phrasing.
Vivid imagery, use of metaphor, simile, personification, symbols, setting, and other literary elements.
Illustrative anecdotes or vignettes.
Compelling narrative.
A fresh or startling topic area, or a fresh or startling take on a universal or common experience.
Character development.
A reflective element. We're looking for thoughtful pieces that take the experience of motherhood and use it as a jumping off point for exploring deeper issues of identity, relationship, family, politics, transformation, loss, and more. Make sure, for example, that your piece not only describes an experience but reflects, either overtly or metaphorically, on how the experience changed you.
PUBLICATION: http://www.literarymama.com/
AUDIENCE: that are writers. Sharing changes and views on Motherhood. On line magazine about motherhood.
PURPOSE: Giving mothers a voice. An outlet for mothers that are writers.
SUBJECT MATTER: The changes women experience about wanting to be mothers, becoming mothers or if you are in a mothering role.
FORM/ARTISTRY: Exploring ideas and emotions on motherhood. An on line magazine where mothers can share their views, ideals, feelings, thoughts on motherhood.
POLITICS: Give mothers a voice. Allow mothers to be visible. Community atmosphere.
DEPTH OF DISCUSSION: Narrative, personal, reflective, sharing, informative.
VOICE: Serious, personal, funny, intimate.
LENGTH: No specific length. It can be poetry, essay, short story, fiction, non-fiction, or a book.
SUBMISSION: All volunteers. No fee. Need to be a self-identified mother. Electronic submissions only, with cover letter. 500 - 7,000 words. One piece at a time. We are seeking personal essays and stand-alone creative nonfiction excerpts by mothers related to motherhood that read like fiction. We look for:
A distinctive personal voice.
Attentiveness to language, rich details, lyrical phrasing.
Vivid imagery, use of metaphor, simile, personification, symbols, setting, and other literary elements.
Illustrative anecdotes or vignettes.
Compelling narrative.
A fresh or startling topic area, or a fresh or startling take on a universal or common experience.
Character development.
A reflective element. We're looking for thoughtful pieces that take the experience of motherhood and use it as a jumping off point for exploring deeper issues of identity, relationship, family, politics, transformation, loss, and more. Make sure, for example, that your piece not only describes an experience but reflects, either overtly or metaphorically, on how the experience changed you.
Blog #20 Sue
When I revised or rather choose the essay I wanted to revised, I did what we learned in class. This was to look at which essay was more interesting to me. I choose essay 4, which was "Why I write"?
It was easier for me to write essay 4 than essay 3 because I had more things to say with essay 4. Essay 3 dealt with a photo about my family and I did enjoy writing the importance of the photo. But when it comes to writing about why I write, I felt more passion.
Why I write goes deep inside my soul and helps me to explore other parts of me. I saw the photo as limiting but the writing was limitless.
So I choose the topic I had a more deeper relationship with and that was Essay 4 "Why I write".
It was easier for me to write essay 4 than essay 3 because I had more things to say with essay 4. Essay 3 dealt with a photo about my family and I did enjoy writing the importance of the photo. But when it comes to writing about why I write, I felt more passion.
Why I write goes deep inside my soul and helps me to explore other parts of me. I saw the photo as limiting but the writing was limitless.
So I choose the topic I had a more deeper relationship with and that was Essay 4 "Why I write".
Sunday, November 23, 2008
blog 18
For this blog we were suppose to reflect on the comments that were made to us by our classmates, but I was absent because my husband was a baby. No, that was mean, he was sick and wanted me to take care of him. Some times he is worse than my two REAL children. Any way I was not in class to get the feed back and I will make my own.But life must go on.
So I will comment on my draft 3. I will use the symbolism of my photograph and incorporate that theme in with the history of the photo. I like the history of the photo because it gives me a lot to talk about and write.
So I will comment on my draft 3. I will use the symbolism of my photograph and incorporate that theme in with the history of the photo. I like the history of the photo because it gives me a lot to talk about and write.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Sue Blog #15 Places
I have so many feelings on the places I have been. The first one to come to mind was Trinidad West Indies. This was the place of my birth and where I spent the first six years of my life. This was the place I learned to read and write and before I left to come to America, I was learning my multiplacation tables. Also when I think about Trinidad, I think of unusual insects. I hated the lizards that came out at night on the ceiling of my bedroom. The house had three bedrooms; one for the girls no matter how old you were, the second was for the boys, and the third was for my grandparents. The bathroom was called the latrine and it was a good distance away from the main house so the smell was not noticed. I learned very early to go to the latrine before bed because if I had to go when everyone was asleep , no one would walk with me in the dark. The lartine was just a deep hole in the ground where "you-know-what" would go. It is funny what you remember. And during the rainy season, snakes came out in the corn field. My grandfather would make the girls pick the feathers off the chicken after he separated the chicken's neck from its body. After the separation the chicken's body would jerk as if the neck was still on. There was no turning away this was tonights dinner and everyone had to help in prepartation. The feelings of this place is warm, loving, safe, and belonging.
My second place that brings back a lot of emotion was when my sister and I came to America. The plane ride was scary and I hated saying goodbye to my grandmother, aunts and uncles. My grandmother handed us ( my sister and I) off to the stewardess and we went towards the plane with tears in our eyes. We sat up front with the stewardess and they gave us "wings" because we were good. During the plane ride we got soda, peanuts and I think lunch. The plane ride was scary and my ears clogged up a lot and the stewardess told me to swallow. The feeling of this place was sadness, scared,confussion, unhappy.
The third place was my new home in Brooklyn, New York ( in Bushwick 11207). Yes, I even remember my old zip code. This was my home until I finished high school. It was a very new experience. The bathroom was inside and the tv had more than 2 stations. In this house, since I was the oldest, I had my own room and my younger sisters had to share. We made new friends that made fun of the way we spoke. In Trinidad you learned the "King's English" in school. It was just more proper than my friends spoke in Bushwick. The steering wheel was on the left side and not on the right as in Trinidad. In school the kids did not wear uniforms and the nuns did not look at your finger nails ever day during line up as in Trinidad. All the differences seemed to benefit me, but I still missed my grandmother and her kissing me good night and good morning. The feeling of this place was mixed love and hate, adventure, and new friendships.
All grown up now, finished high school, my father relocated to Piscataway(New Jersey) my sisters and I had to move with him, start Katherine Gibbs and worked part time at ChildCraft. ChildCraft was a mail order company that took orders over the phone for Walt Disney customers. The company closed years later, but I remember it as the place I meet my now husband. This was the place I meet my first love, Leroy. I mean I had boyfriends but when I saw Leroy ( my husband) I knew he would be my boyfriend. He was and still is a manly man. Leroy loves all types of sports. He was and still is a tall, dark, cool drink of water that is all mine. Leroy's brother went to Rutgers in New Brunswick and Leroy went to Montclair State. Leroy took a semester off and stayed with his bother off campus in the New Brunswick area. Leroy had to work so his brother got him a job at ChildCraft. And that semester changed my whole life. This place gives me the feeling of happiness, love, courtship, friendship, destiny.
I could talk about the hospital that I had my children, the Piscataway Mayor's office that I got married in, the first apartment my husband, children moved into, the house we know live in, the trip to Canada, Youngstown (Ohio), California, North/ South Carolina, Delaware, Maryland, Brooklyn College, Middlesex County College, Kean Univeristy and all the other places we have been or I have been. But I'm not because it would be to long.
My second place that brings back a lot of emotion was when my sister and I came to America. The plane ride was scary and I hated saying goodbye to my grandmother, aunts and uncles. My grandmother handed us ( my sister and I) off to the stewardess and we went towards the plane with tears in our eyes. We sat up front with the stewardess and they gave us "wings" because we were good. During the plane ride we got soda, peanuts and I think lunch. The plane ride was scary and my ears clogged up a lot and the stewardess told me to swallow. The feeling of this place was sadness, scared,confussion, unhappy.
The third place was my new home in Brooklyn, New York ( in Bushwick 11207). Yes, I even remember my old zip code. This was my home until I finished high school. It was a very new experience. The bathroom was inside and the tv had more than 2 stations. In this house, since I was the oldest, I had my own room and my younger sisters had to share. We made new friends that made fun of the way we spoke. In Trinidad you learned the "King's English" in school. It was just more proper than my friends spoke in Bushwick. The steering wheel was on the left side and not on the right as in Trinidad. In school the kids did not wear uniforms and the nuns did not look at your finger nails ever day during line up as in Trinidad. All the differences seemed to benefit me, but I still missed my grandmother and her kissing me good night and good morning. The feeling of this place was mixed love and hate, adventure, and new friendships.
All grown up now, finished high school, my father relocated to Piscataway(New Jersey) my sisters and I had to move with him, start Katherine Gibbs and worked part time at ChildCraft. ChildCraft was a mail order company that took orders over the phone for Walt Disney customers. The company closed years later, but I remember it as the place I meet my now husband. This was the place I meet my first love, Leroy. I mean I had boyfriends but when I saw Leroy ( my husband) I knew he would be my boyfriend. He was and still is a manly man. Leroy loves all types of sports. He was and still is a tall, dark, cool drink of water that is all mine. Leroy's brother went to Rutgers in New Brunswick and Leroy went to Montclair State. Leroy took a semester off and stayed with his bother off campus in the New Brunswick area. Leroy had to work so his brother got him a job at ChildCraft. And that semester changed my whole life. This place gives me the feeling of happiness, love, courtship, friendship, destiny.
I could talk about the hospital that I had my children, the Piscataway Mayor's office that I got married in, the first apartment my husband, children moved into, the house we know live in, the trip to Canada, Youngstown (Ohio), California, North/ South Carolina, Delaware, Maryland, Brooklyn College, Middlesex County College, Kean Univeristy and all the other places we have been or I have been. But I'm not because it would be to long.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Draft Essay #3
I recieved some really great feed back from my group on friday. The third essay will be about a picture of my niece, nephew, son and daughter. This picture was taken over the summer time.
My family is a very close one, and I just love spending time with them. When my parents came to America years ago from Trinidad West Indies, they were the first of many. My parents each assisted both sides of their family to come to America and make a new life. When each family member arrived in America they lived with us for a year to get a job and buy their own home. So my house was always filled with family and when each member brought their home it was very close to where we lived. All the holidays was very exciting because my mother had 12 brothers and sisters and my father had 10 brothers and sisters, also my grandparents from both sides came. So as you can see with that number my extended family is huge. It seemed that every weekend was a holiday and it was fun. Sometimes you had an argument or two but at the end both parties made up. There was no need for babysitters because there was always someone to watch the children. There was no peer pressure from friends because cousins were the close friends and we all had the same values. It was the best of time and whenI did not want to eat my mother's cooking I could always go to my aunt's or uncle's home and eat with their family.
But after many years it all slowly came to an end. My father was the first to venture out. My father worked for AT&T in Manhattan ( New York) and the taxes was too much so AT&T decided to move to New Jersey. AT&T offered any employee who wanted to move a package that they will pay the total cost of moving and contribute to the cost or mortage of that employees new home. My father said that was an offer that he could not turn away from. Bushwick, Brooklyn was getting very dangerous to live and my father want to move out because he felt it was not safe for us (his girls). This was also the time when my parents went through their divorce and my father wanted a new start. So with all these reasons my father decided to accept the offer made by his job, AT&T. My sisters and I did not welcome the news but my father was the type of man that felt children should be seen and not heard. He did not come and ask us how we felt about the move. He said he was moving and the three of us had to move. We were very sad but we packed up and moved.
Since I was the oldest of my sisters, I had a lot of responsiblities. Living in Brooklyn among my extended family it was not as hard because there was always an adult around. Even when I went through my parents divorce, I still had my aunts and uncles (on both side of the family). The only person who was missing was my mother, but she was there for holidays. This move was a big one because we will be leaving all our family in Brooklyn. God, just saying that is so painful to me. Who will be the adult when my dad goes to work? Who would cook for us? This means that I have to take care of my sisters. How can I take care of them when I am trying to take care of myself.
The first year of the move was hard because it was only the four of us. The house was beautiful and big but I really did not enjoy it because I missed my extended family. I cried for days but did not let my father know, because I know he was doing what was best for us and I did not want to disappoint him. He too was by himself, he too had no one to support him, he did this for his children and I had to be a trooper. Our first Christmas was great because some members of my family would stay for the weekend. That was the best for a little while I would have my family and it would be almost as it was when we all lived in Brooklyn. And that Christmas was all I expected to be and more. I did not want to go to sleep, and I just wanted to absorb as much as I can and I did. But all good things must come to an end and it did. It was time for everyone to go back to Brooklyn and continue their lives. So each of us said "good-bye" and it was hard, but I did it.
not finished yes more to write.
My family is a very close one, and I just love spending time with them. When my parents came to America years ago from Trinidad West Indies, they were the first of many. My parents each assisted both sides of their family to come to America and make a new life. When each family member arrived in America they lived with us for a year to get a job and buy their own home. So my house was always filled with family and when each member brought their home it was very close to where we lived. All the holidays was very exciting because my mother had 12 brothers and sisters and my father had 10 brothers and sisters, also my grandparents from both sides came. So as you can see with that number my extended family is huge. It seemed that every weekend was a holiday and it was fun. Sometimes you had an argument or two but at the end both parties made up. There was no need for babysitters because there was always someone to watch the children. There was no peer pressure from friends because cousins were the close friends and we all had the same values. It was the best of time and whenI did not want to eat my mother's cooking I could always go to my aunt's or uncle's home and eat with their family.
But after many years it all slowly came to an end. My father was the first to venture out. My father worked for AT&T in Manhattan ( New York) and the taxes was too much so AT&T decided to move to New Jersey. AT&T offered any employee who wanted to move a package that they will pay the total cost of moving and contribute to the cost or mortage of that employees new home. My father said that was an offer that he could not turn away from. Bushwick, Brooklyn was getting very dangerous to live and my father want to move out because he felt it was not safe for us (his girls). This was also the time when my parents went through their divorce and my father wanted a new start. So with all these reasons my father decided to accept the offer made by his job, AT&T. My sisters and I did not welcome the news but my father was the type of man that felt children should be seen and not heard. He did not come and ask us how we felt about the move. He said he was moving and the three of us had to move. We were very sad but we packed up and moved.
Since I was the oldest of my sisters, I had a lot of responsiblities. Living in Brooklyn among my extended family it was not as hard because there was always an adult around. Even when I went through my parents divorce, I still had my aunts and uncles (on both side of the family). The only person who was missing was my mother, but she was there for holidays. This move was a big one because we will be leaving all our family in Brooklyn. God, just saying that is so painful to me. Who will be the adult when my dad goes to work? Who would cook for us? This means that I have to take care of my sisters. How can I take care of them when I am trying to take care of myself.
The first year of the move was hard because it was only the four of us. The house was beautiful and big but I really did not enjoy it because I missed my extended family. I cried for days but did not let my father know, because I know he was doing what was best for us and I did not want to disappoint him. He too was by himself, he too had no one to support him, he did this for his children and I had to be a trooper. Our first Christmas was great because some members of my family would stay for the weekend. That was the best for a little while I would have my family and it would be almost as it was when we all lived in Brooklyn. And that Christmas was all I expected to be and more. I did not want to go to sleep, and I just wanted to absorb as much as I can and I did. But all good things must come to an end and it did. It was time for everyone to go back to Brooklyn and continue their lives. So each of us said "good-bye" and it was hard, but I did it.
not finished yes more to write.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Blog #14
This essay #3 I really don't know what to write about. I went looking through my picture box and just pulled out a picture. So I think I will write about this picture, this picture with my nephew, niece, son, and daughter. I like this picture because every summer my family would come and stay and this started when my son(Yorel 3 years old), daughter (Yazmin was 22 months), nephew (Davon 9 years old), niece (Bianca 7 years old). I enjoyed my niece and nephew coming out to New Jersey for the summer because they played well with my children, it got them out of New York, it gave my sister a single mom a break, and I just like having my family around. The picutre has all four kids playing in my bedroom and I took the picture to capture the memory. My nephew was helping my son ride his bike. I allowed them on rainy days to play inside and they played basketball, video games, roller skated and rode bikes. Bianca always picked up Yazmin and carried her like a baby doll. The boys were more ruff and tumble.
They just woke up and Davon had on a green tee shirt with navy blue shorts, Yorel was on a yellow handle bar toddler tricycle wearing a white tee shirt and plaid boxer, Yazmin had on a flower print nighty and Bianca had on a 2 piece flower print short pj set. The kids were waiting for me to make breakfast and call them into the kitchen to eat. I put them in the bedroom assuming they would watch tv and wait to be called, but when I came into the room I saw how much fun they were having and took the picture.
How should I start the eassy? Should I just describe the picture or give background? Should I talk about the long tradition of them coming out to my house for the summers from then until 2008?
They just woke up and Davon had on a green tee shirt with navy blue shorts, Yorel was on a yellow handle bar toddler tricycle wearing a white tee shirt and plaid boxer, Yazmin had on a flower print nighty and Bianca had on a 2 piece flower print short pj set. The kids were waiting for me to make breakfast and call them into the kitchen to eat. I put them in the bedroom assuming they would watch tv and wait to be called, but when I came into the room I saw how much fun they were having and took the picture.
How should I start the eassy? Should I just describe the picture or give background? Should I talk about the long tradition of them coming out to my house for the summers from then until 2008?
Monday, November 3, 2008
Blog #13
Purple suit with green fins. About 300 lbs and dances around with kids.
OR
Blonde hair sometimes short or sometime long. Very skinny, always wear name brand clothing.
Prada shoes, Michael Kors, Baby Phat, Valentino. And has a miniture dog in a doggy pocketbag,
OR
Blonde hair sometimes short or sometime long. Very skinny, always wear name brand clothing.
Prada shoes, Michael Kors, Baby Phat, Valentino. And has a miniture dog in a doggy pocketbag,
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Blog #12
This picture shows my nephew (Davon about 10 years old), niece (Davon's sister Bianca 8 years old), my son (Yorel 3 1/2 years old), and my baby (Yazmin 1 1/2 years old). During the summer months when Davon and Bianca are out of school in Brooklyn, I let them come to New Jersey to spend the summer. We did this for 13 years and the only reason Davon and Bianca don't come to spend the summer is that Davon lives with us and Bianca is going to College next summer. They came out this past summer and we had a blast. We added to our group my 3 year old nephew (Dale) from my baby sister Sophia. During the last week in August both of my sisters come and stay for a week and when they leave they take their own children or child back home to start getting ready for the upcoming school year.
This picture brings back a lot of good memories of family time in the summers.
This picture brings back a lot of good memories of family time in the summers.
Blog #11
I went through my kitchen drawer and found my children's walkie talkie. It was the communication device we used to keep in touch when the kids were outside playing and they wanted to be independent from me. So my husband and I thought they were to young for cell phones and so we decided to get them walkie talkies. It worked great for about 2 years and then when they got to middle school they wanted to get cell phones.
The walkie talkies worked for a while and when I found the walkie talkie and showed it to the kids we just lauged and thought back to the walkie talkie era.
sue
The walkie talkies worked for a while and when I found the walkie talkie and showed it to the kids we just lauged and thought back to the walkie talkie era.
sue
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Blog #10
I will do Essay #2 because it was helpful to reflect on my relationship with my mother. To me it was great to look back on the good times and bad times with my mother. And when my children become much older I will let them read it. Edgar gave me some good feed back on what to add. One of the things he said was to talk about a specific bad and good situation I had with my mother.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Blog #9 Essay 2 draft
"I am the MOTHER I wanted" by Suzanne
My mother and I had a ok relationship. I mean I can't remember a time that she hugged me or told me she loved me. I can remember her cooking for my sisters and I, washing our clothes, and dressing us up to go to Manhattan on Easter. Easter was the only time I can remember my mother going shipping and fussing over how her girls looked. Every year I would looked forward to Easter, because that connected me to some normalcy in my life. Easter is the time that my mother was like all the other of thousands of mothers in America that fussed with how their children would look on Easter. What was funny was that not until I became an adult did I realize that Easter was a religious day. A day people go to church and pay respect to a God. mean my mother, Mary did not take us to church or teach us about a "HIGHER POWER". Easter was when we got dressed up to go to Manhattan, eat at Nathan's (famous hot dog place), and come back home and watch the Ten Commandants on ABC. Out of all my memories of my mother that is the only one that sticks out, and it is because that is the only day I saw Mary as any other mother.
So many things came from my Easter experience with my mother. I hate to wear dresses because of that Easter experience. My mother made us girls dress up in dresses with ruffles every where, and sometimes a big bow on the back of the dress.
My sisters and I had to where a dress, black pattern leather shoes, and pantyhose that seemed to be to small for us. I hated that damn pantyhose because it seemed I spend the entire day pulling up that white pantyhose. It is funny the things you remember when you were a child. I still hate pantyhose, even now as an adult, now when I can choose my own color and size of pantyhose, I still will not wear one unless it is absolutely mandatory.
Now that I am a mother I understand my mother. Mary was born in Trinidad, West Indies and came to America in the 1970's (I don't know the exact date). Mary, my mother, was the oldest of 12 children and a lot was expected of her. One of the expecations was to be virgin at marriage. Mary did not live up to that expectation and I found that out when I saw my parents wedding photo in which Mary was 8 months pregnant with me. I know my parents liked eah other enough to have sex, but now I know they did not love each other enough to get married. Since my mother got pregnant the firsts time she had sex, she had to marry my father. Back then neither one had a choice in the matter and the wedding planning began so they can be married before my birth. Mary kept every thing in and simetimes I thought she did not even know how to defend herself. It was only when she came to America and away from my father and her parents Mary choose to get loose. Mary let loose so much that she became an alcoholic. Mary's drinking did not happen immediately, but it happened over years.
My father came to America 2 years after my mother arrived and the problems started. Those two years, a full time job and the ideal that women had rights in America encouraged my mother to do her own thing. But doing her own thing would have long lasting effects on my sisters and I. I think my mother drank to escape her life. As I said before my mother was very private and didn't talk about her problems and certainly never shared her feelings with her girls. I know that is why I talk to my children about everything. I have created an atmosphere in my relationship with my children that they can come to me and ask me anything. Some people don't agree with my openness but my memory of my silent childhood drowns out their comments. And I am always asking my children "how they feel". When I wa young and even know my family never asked me "how I feel". No one asked me how I felt about my parents divorce, or living with my father after the divorce, no one spoke to me about sex, about what I wanted to become when I got older, how to be an effective parent, how to be a good wife, how to accept myself for who I am. But now that I am the parent I ask and tell my kids all those previous things and more. I don't want my children to have only one memory of me being their mother. I want them to look back at their childhood and have numerous memories of me being their mother and loving them and telling them how much I love them and how much they improved my life. I want my kids to know their importance in my life. I necer know the importance I had in my mother's life until the end.
Mary died in December 1999 and her last three years was spent with my family. Previously from the time my parents got divorced until she moved in with us I did not have a relationship with my mother. I guessed I was mad and now that I was older I was upset with her that she did not fight for her girls.. It was 10 years or so that I had not interacted with my mother. I mean I went to my gradmother's and aunt's house and she was their, but it was like seeing a stranger at your family functions. My grandmother, and aunts (Mary's mother and sisters) all told me "you should go talk to your mother". But I felt that she was the parent not me so she should make the first move to come and tlk to me and not go get a drink. It was not until I had my own children that I realized how hard it is to be a good parent. To be a good parent you must heal your own issues. You must heal your pain so you can efffectively parent your child. My mother had a lot of issues that she did not heal. Those last three years did so much healing for me, but I don't know if Mary healed her pain. Just writing this makes me cry. I miss my mommy now and wish she can see how wonderful Yorel and Yazmin are. I wish she didn't some or drink then maybe we would have had more time. Mary loved my children with all her heart and she gave them the love she had for her own girls. And with her loving my kids as she did made me forgive her, I am not my mother's judge because I did not walk in her shoes but I am her daughter and with that alone I forgave her.
My mother and I had a ok relationship. I mean I can't remember a time that she hugged me or told me she loved me. I can remember her cooking for my sisters and I, washing our clothes, and dressing us up to go to Manhattan on Easter. Easter was the only time I can remember my mother going shipping and fussing over how her girls looked. Every year I would looked forward to Easter, because that connected me to some normalcy in my life. Easter is the time that my mother was like all the other of thousands of mothers in America that fussed with how their children would look on Easter. What was funny was that not until I became an adult did I realize that Easter was a religious day. A day people go to church and pay respect to a God. mean my mother, Mary did not take us to church or teach us about a "HIGHER POWER". Easter was when we got dressed up to go to Manhattan, eat at Nathan's (famous hot dog place), and come back home and watch the Ten Commandants on ABC. Out of all my memories of my mother that is the only one that sticks out, and it is because that is the only day I saw Mary as any other mother.
So many things came from my Easter experience with my mother. I hate to wear dresses because of that Easter experience. My mother made us girls dress up in dresses with ruffles every where, and sometimes a big bow on the back of the dress.
My sisters and I had to where a dress, black pattern leather shoes, and pantyhose that seemed to be to small for us. I hated that damn pantyhose because it seemed I spend the entire day pulling up that white pantyhose. It is funny the things you remember when you were a child. I still hate pantyhose, even now as an adult, now when I can choose my own color and size of pantyhose, I still will not wear one unless it is absolutely mandatory.
Now that I am a mother I understand my mother. Mary was born in Trinidad, West Indies and came to America in the 1970's (I don't know the exact date). Mary, my mother, was the oldest of 12 children and a lot was expected of her. One of the expecations was to be virgin at marriage. Mary did not live up to that expectation and I found that out when I saw my parents wedding photo in which Mary was 8 months pregnant with me. I know my parents liked eah other enough to have sex, but now I know they did not love each other enough to get married. Since my mother got pregnant the firsts time she had sex, she had to marry my father. Back then neither one had a choice in the matter and the wedding planning began so they can be married before my birth. Mary kept every thing in and simetimes I thought she did not even know how to defend herself. It was only when she came to America and away from my father and her parents Mary choose to get loose. Mary let loose so much that she became an alcoholic. Mary's drinking did not happen immediately, but it happened over years.
My father came to America 2 years after my mother arrived and the problems started. Those two years, a full time job and the ideal that women had rights in America encouraged my mother to do her own thing. But doing her own thing would have long lasting effects on my sisters and I. I think my mother drank to escape her life. As I said before my mother was very private and didn't talk about her problems and certainly never shared her feelings with her girls. I know that is why I talk to my children about everything. I have created an atmosphere in my relationship with my children that they can come to me and ask me anything. Some people don't agree with my openness but my memory of my silent childhood drowns out their comments. And I am always asking my children "how they feel". When I wa young and even know my family never asked me "how I feel". No one asked me how I felt about my parents divorce, or living with my father after the divorce, no one spoke to me about sex, about what I wanted to become when I got older, how to be an effective parent, how to be a good wife, how to accept myself for who I am. But now that I am the parent I ask and tell my kids all those previous things and more. I don't want my children to have only one memory of me being their mother. I want them to look back at their childhood and have numerous memories of me being their mother and loving them and telling them how much I love them and how much they improved my life. I want my kids to know their importance in my life. I necer know the importance I had in my mother's life until the end.
Mary died in December 1999 and her last three years was spent with my family. Previously from the time my parents got divorced until she moved in with us I did not have a relationship with my mother. I guessed I was mad and now that I was older I was upset with her that she did not fight for her girls.. It was 10 years or so that I had not interacted with my mother. I mean I went to my gradmother's and aunt's house and she was their, but it was like seeing a stranger at your family functions. My grandmother, and aunts (Mary's mother and sisters) all told me "you should go talk to your mother". But I felt that she was the parent not me so she should make the first move to come and tlk to me and not go get a drink. It was not until I had my own children that I realized how hard it is to be a good parent. To be a good parent you must heal your own issues. You must heal your pain so you can efffectively parent your child. My mother had a lot of issues that she did not heal. Those last three years did so much healing for me, but I don't know if Mary healed her pain. Just writing this makes me cry. I miss my mommy now and wish she can see how wonderful Yorel and Yazmin are. I wish she didn't some or drink then maybe we would have had more time. Mary loved my children with all her heart and she gave them the love she had for her own girls. And with her loving my kids as she did made me forgive her, I am not my mother's judge because I did not walk in her shoes but I am her daughter and with that alone I forgave her.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Blog #8
My second essay will be about my MOTHER. The mother I am to my children is the mother I wished I had. I am not saying my mother was a bad parent, but I have learned to forgive her and I realize in life "you are what you learn".
My mother was raised in a time when women had no voice, and they did what they were told. But I realize that when you have your own children, you understand your parents better.
Before my mother died, we had closure and I am glad that happened. I love my mom and she greatly influenced the woman, and mother I am today.
My mother was raised in a time when women had no voice, and they did what they were told. But I realize that when you have your own children, you understand your parents better.
Before my mother died, we had closure and I am glad that happened. I love my mom and she greatly influenced the woman, and mother I am today.
Blog #7
The thing that went well with my first essay was the ability to put on paper my memories. The ease in which I wrote my experiences. And it made me smile, when I realized how much I have changed from the person who experienced those events.
I need to put the essay in chronological order and connect my focal point.
My next essay I will try to be more reflective.
I need to put the essay in chronological order and connect my focal point.
My next essay I will try to be more reflective.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Essay Draft #1 (After the Labor Pain....)
After the labor pain, I looked at both of my children with complete amazement. They both came from the love Leroy (my then boyfriend) and I shared. I looked at my son, the oldest, the first child I carried and asked my self "where did the time go"? The 15 years went by so fast but yet slow and now look at him a strong and handsome high schooler. His name is Yorel, which is Leroy backwards and he looks just like his father but has my personality. Yorel is driven, intelligent, extremely focused, love all sports, and does not easily welcome new people in his life. And then their is my Yazmin, my second born, which means sunshine/flower in Arabic. We (Leroy and I) were looking for a name that started with the letter "Y". Yazmin is a breath of sunshine in our family. She lookes like me but has Leroy's personality. Yazmin is intelligent, very friendly, loves playing her musical instruments (flute, clarinet, Alto Sax), loves to dance, and a joy to be around. Her 1st grade teacher, Ms Erickson, said at a school conference that " Yazy is a social butterfly" and that statement is so true. I really enjoy these 2 people who makes me laugh, scream, threaten them, hug, warn, and just love unconditionally. After the labor pain, I am more in love than ever before with these two wonderful people.
After the labor pain, I am holding my son. A long 21 inch, 7lb 14 oz baby boy that is screaming at me and trying to grab my left nipple with his mouth. But 13 hours eariler you were the cause of my unbearable pain and worry. Thirteen hours eariler I woke up to a wet bed. In my dream I was on the toilet so when I woke to a wet bet, I thought I had an accident. But even though I contracted my vaginal muscles, there still was leaking. OH MY GOD, I thought to myself my water broke. I screamed to my sister "my water broke, my water broke get a towel". Sophia (my baby sister) ran to the hallway closet and brought back the biggest, thickest towel in there. I fold the towel up and put it between my legs. I also told Sophia "call Leroy and tell him to meet us at St. Peter's Hospital". Yes, I am having a baby and not married. I lived with my father and baby sister in Piscataway and Leroy lived with his mother and 3 younger siblings in East Orange. Leroy and I enjoyed a healthy sex life but did not plan on becoming parents. But when we got pregnant we decided to keep the baby. Leroy's mother was more concerned with our unmarried situation than my liberal father. I feel my father was more liberal about my single motherhood because my middle sister already had 2 children and was not married. Even though Leroy's 5 older brothers and sisters each had kids but only one was married and divorced. With this information it was hard for me to believe that Leroy's mother was concerned with our unmarried situation and or she just did not like me. The latter proved to be true. Any way with this family drama I chose to stay clear of negitive people and have my baby. So now at St. Peter's Hosiptal and heading up to my room in labor and delivery. It's now 2pm and still no sign of Leroy, and my doctor. The intern came in to check how far along I was. He put on his gloves and put his whole hand up my vagina. The only part of his arm I could see was his elbow. The intern said I was 4cm and could not give me any drugs until I was 5 cm. I asked "how long would that be", he said "he really did not know"? Then I asked if he heard from Dr. Nawanna (my OB/GYN), the intern said "no". Now its 2 hours since my water broke, no Leroy, no Dr. Nawanna, I am in great pain and I am also worried about the baby getting an infection (the umblic fluid protects the baby from infection and since my fluid is leaking out of me the baby might get an infection). Four o'clock and the intern came back in and lost his hand in my vigina. He said "5cm, you can get your Epidermal now". Thank God , I thought. Six o'clock got my epidermal and the pain is their but not as bad, and now walk in Dr. Nawanna. He lost his hand in my vagina also. Eight o'clock Leroy came bearing balloons, flowers and a suitcase. I asked him "why a suitcase"? Leroy said, "he is coming home with me and our baby, he does not want to miss any part of this baby's life." I was happy but did not know how my father would feel about our new roomate. My hospital room was standing room only. Sophia, her boyfriend (Sean), my father, my mother (my parents are divorced), and now Leroy were in my hospital room. It was like a party with food and sodas, but I was in bed with great pain. At midnight the Dr. Nawanna came in and he said "the baby's heart rate is increasing so we might have to have a c-section". I got scared. Dr. Nawanna said "it is good that you already had the epidermal, so lets move you in to the operation room". I grabbed Leroy's hand and told him "you have to come too". The party like atmosphere came to a quick end and everyone hugged and kissed me and told me don't worry every thing will be alright. In the operating room, a blue curtian like cover blocking me from lower half. All I can remember is the Doctor telling me to stop moving then they put restrants on me and I lost all memory of what happened. When I came to, I was holding this beautiful baby boy. After the labor pain, I was holding my son.
After the labor pain, I was holding my daughter. Yazmin's birth was not as complicated as Yorel's birth. Dr. Nawanna wanted me to have a natural birth. Her due date was on Thanksgiving and Dr. Nawanna would be on a family trip. The three of us (my husband, myself, and the doctor) discussed it and we decided to set a date, come in and have my baby. Yes, my husband, Leroy and I decided to get married six months after Yorel was born. Mulenberg was the hospital that Yazmin was born in. We left Yorel with Sophia (my baby sister) then Leroy and I went to the hospital. My pre-admission was already in the computer and they took me straight upstairs. Dr. Nawanna was informed I had arrived and was closing his office because after my delivery he would start his holiday trip. The nurse administered my IV and in the IV was medicine to start my labor. Two hours later I was ready to push. The nurse said "Dr. Nawanna was just downstairs and on his way up to my room". I said to the nurse, "I have to push, I have to push". Dr. Nawanna ran into the room and said "go ahead and push". I pushed and their was Yazmin. But she was not scream, as a baby leaving her old home and entering her new one. The pediatrician grabbed Yazmin and placed her on the neonatal table and put a needle in her heart (remember, I seeing this from a druged up view). Then I heard my baby cry, that was such a sound of relief to any parent. The nurse cleaned her, wrapped her up in a baby blanket, and handed her to me. After the labor pain, I was holding my daughter.
After the labor pain, I have an ever changing, ever evolving loving marriage that has its good and bad times. Like when we had to decide whether to live Piscataway or East Orange, but Piscataway won. A marriage that lead to one parent working 2 full time jobs ( police officer, and gym teacher) and the other being a stay at home mom. A marriage that is full of compromise whether forced or suggested. A marriage that made 2 people grow up and accept what they can't change and change what they can. A marriage that always puts the children's needs ahead of their own. A marriage that tests the love between a man and a women. A marriage that looks at the big picture rather than the individual photo. A marriage that time and time again ignores outsiders. A marriage that I love and if I had to do all over again I gladly would. A marriage that still needs work but is willing to do that work. A marriage that keeps the relationship between a husband and wife interesting and creative. After the labor pain, I have an ever changing, ever evolving loving marriage that has its good and bad times.
After the labor pain, I look at myself and ask " is this who I intended to be"? I don't know. As a child no one asked me "what do I want to be when I grow up"? It was implied that I would be a wife and mother. The older I became I asked myself , "is that it"? "What about me"? Yazmin was in the 3rd grade and I had a discussion with Leroy about me going back to school. He was hesitant at first, but then when I made my point he understood. I started at Middlesex County College and completed it. Then I transferred to Kean University. Now I have something just for me and that makes me happy. After the labor pain, I love myself.
After the labor pain, I have Yorel, Yazmin, a loving marriage, and I am in love with myself.
After the labor pain, I am holding my son. A long 21 inch, 7lb 14 oz baby boy that is screaming at me and trying to grab my left nipple with his mouth. But 13 hours eariler you were the cause of my unbearable pain and worry. Thirteen hours eariler I woke up to a wet bed. In my dream I was on the toilet so when I woke to a wet bet, I thought I had an accident. But even though I contracted my vaginal muscles, there still was leaking. OH MY GOD, I thought to myself my water broke. I screamed to my sister "my water broke, my water broke get a towel". Sophia (my baby sister) ran to the hallway closet and brought back the biggest, thickest towel in there. I fold the towel up and put it between my legs. I also told Sophia "call Leroy and tell him to meet us at St. Peter's Hospital". Yes, I am having a baby and not married. I lived with my father and baby sister in Piscataway and Leroy lived with his mother and 3 younger siblings in East Orange. Leroy and I enjoyed a healthy sex life but did not plan on becoming parents. But when we got pregnant we decided to keep the baby. Leroy's mother was more concerned with our unmarried situation than my liberal father. I feel my father was more liberal about my single motherhood because my middle sister already had 2 children and was not married. Even though Leroy's 5 older brothers and sisters each had kids but only one was married and divorced. With this information it was hard for me to believe that Leroy's mother was concerned with our unmarried situation and or she just did not like me. The latter proved to be true. Any way with this family drama I chose to stay clear of negitive people and have my baby. So now at St. Peter's Hosiptal and heading up to my room in labor and delivery. It's now 2pm and still no sign of Leroy, and my doctor. The intern came in to check how far along I was. He put on his gloves and put his whole hand up my vagina. The only part of his arm I could see was his elbow. The intern said I was 4cm and could not give me any drugs until I was 5 cm. I asked "how long would that be", he said "he really did not know"? Then I asked if he heard from Dr. Nawanna (my OB/GYN), the intern said "no". Now its 2 hours since my water broke, no Leroy, no Dr. Nawanna, I am in great pain and I am also worried about the baby getting an infection (the umblic fluid protects the baby from infection and since my fluid is leaking out of me the baby might get an infection). Four o'clock and the intern came back in and lost his hand in my vigina. He said "5cm, you can get your Epidermal now". Thank God , I thought. Six o'clock got my epidermal and the pain is their but not as bad, and now walk in Dr. Nawanna. He lost his hand in my vagina also. Eight o'clock Leroy came bearing balloons, flowers and a suitcase. I asked him "why a suitcase"? Leroy said, "he is coming home with me and our baby, he does not want to miss any part of this baby's life." I was happy but did not know how my father would feel about our new roomate. My hospital room was standing room only. Sophia, her boyfriend (Sean), my father, my mother (my parents are divorced), and now Leroy were in my hospital room. It was like a party with food and sodas, but I was in bed with great pain. At midnight the Dr. Nawanna came in and he said "the baby's heart rate is increasing so we might have to have a c-section". I got scared. Dr. Nawanna said "it is good that you already had the epidermal, so lets move you in to the operation room". I grabbed Leroy's hand and told him "you have to come too". The party like atmosphere came to a quick end and everyone hugged and kissed me and told me don't worry every thing will be alright. In the operating room, a blue curtian like cover blocking me from lower half. All I can remember is the Doctor telling me to stop moving then they put restrants on me and I lost all memory of what happened. When I came to, I was holding this beautiful baby boy. After the labor pain, I was holding my son.
After the labor pain, I was holding my daughter. Yazmin's birth was not as complicated as Yorel's birth. Dr. Nawanna wanted me to have a natural birth. Her due date was on Thanksgiving and Dr. Nawanna would be on a family trip. The three of us (my husband, myself, and the doctor) discussed it and we decided to set a date, come in and have my baby. Yes, my husband, Leroy and I decided to get married six months after Yorel was born. Mulenberg was the hospital that Yazmin was born in. We left Yorel with Sophia (my baby sister) then Leroy and I went to the hospital. My pre-admission was already in the computer and they took me straight upstairs. Dr. Nawanna was informed I had arrived and was closing his office because after my delivery he would start his holiday trip. The nurse administered my IV and in the IV was medicine to start my labor. Two hours later I was ready to push. The nurse said "Dr. Nawanna was just downstairs and on his way up to my room". I said to the nurse, "I have to push, I have to push". Dr. Nawanna ran into the room and said "go ahead and push". I pushed and their was Yazmin. But she was not scream, as a baby leaving her old home and entering her new one. The pediatrician grabbed Yazmin and placed her on the neonatal table and put a needle in her heart (remember, I seeing this from a druged up view). Then I heard my baby cry, that was such a sound of relief to any parent. The nurse cleaned her, wrapped her up in a baby blanket, and handed her to me. After the labor pain, I was holding my daughter.
After the labor pain, I have an ever changing, ever evolving loving marriage that has its good and bad times. Like when we had to decide whether to live Piscataway or East Orange, but Piscataway won. A marriage that lead to one parent working 2 full time jobs ( police officer, and gym teacher) and the other being a stay at home mom. A marriage that is full of compromise whether forced or suggested. A marriage that made 2 people grow up and accept what they can't change and change what they can. A marriage that always puts the children's needs ahead of their own. A marriage that tests the love between a man and a women. A marriage that looks at the big picture rather than the individual photo. A marriage that time and time again ignores outsiders. A marriage that I love and if I had to do all over again I gladly would. A marriage that still needs work but is willing to do that work. A marriage that keeps the relationship between a husband and wife interesting and creative. After the labor pain, I have an ever changing, ever evolving loving marriage that has its good and bad times.
After the labor pain, I look at myself and ask " is this who I intended to be"? I don't know. As a child no one asked me "what do I want to be when I grow up"? It was implied that I would be a wife and mother. The older I became I asked myself , "is that it"? "What about me"? Yazmin was in the 3rd grade and I had a discussion with Leroy about me going back to school. He was hesitant at first, but then when I made my point he understood. I started at Middlesex County College and completed it. Then I transferred to Kean University. Now I have something just for me and that makes me happy. After the labor pain, I love myself.
After the labor pain, I have Yorel, Yazmin, a loving marriage, and I am in love with myself.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Blog #7
After reading this essay, I want to honor the men and women who put their life on the line for my freedom. I would expect each country feels that way about their soilders, but to me it is so much more. I also think it is a love story of country. Also I want to say that WAR should always be the very, very, very last option. This essay made me think (when he said he/Rat wrote the friend's sister and Rat poured his heart out in the letter, and she never wrote him back) how do we as a society treat our war heros? Because they are all heros, in my eyes.
sue
sue
Monday, September 29, 2008
Blog #6 Ratings
"On keeping a Notebook"
1) 4 - The essay was focused on the notebook and the benefits of keeping a notebook. 2) 3.5 - 3) 1 ;4)1 & 5)- This essay was very clear on the purpose the auther wrote it. It gave references on the benefits and libalities of keeping a notebook. The author was very straight forward and the title tells exactly what the essay is about.
"Superman and Me"
Subject at hand (4) - Literary devices (3.5) - Plot, Action, Character, Dialogue (4)
Circling (4.5) - Organization (4) - Presentation of Experience (5) - Innovation and Experimental
form (2) - This essay was one that I enjoyed because the author left you the reader with the feeling that anything is possible as long as you read. He inspiried me to read more.
Out There
1)4
2)2
3)3
4)2
5)4
6)2, I really did not understand why the man started chasing her on the highway. She did explain why she is "out there" because of her many issues going on in her life.
7)5, I did not see any errors and since this is a published piece I would not expect to see any.
Toward a define of Creative Non fiction
1)3, The author did give good examples of pieces of cnf.
2)4, the pattern was to esblish what should be in a cnf
3)4
4)5, the writer gave multi-perspectives with the different pieces of cnf
5)2.5 some reflection, but not alot.
6)3
7)5, saw no errors. This piece to me seemed like a learning piece. It's function is for the cnf to have a general ideal of what a cnf should look like.
Biography of a Dress
1)5, yes the details in this essay is great. I can see the yellow dress.
2)4.5, Her focal point was the photograph and she gave all aspects of the photo. The time it was taken, the reason it was taken, the labor that went into getting her their to take the photo.
3)4, It showed the layers of the photo. And after reading the deatils of the photo. I, the reader saw the investment in the photo.
4)3,
5)5, She used a lot of detailed, and that is what I enjoyed.
6)4
7)5, no errors
That men should not judge
1)5, very original
2)2.5,
3)4, It did develop my focus. Before I wanted family to remember what I did in my lifetime, but now my death and how my family observers me is now important.
4)3
5)2
6)2.5, I really enjoyed the essay because it gave me another way to see life or rather another way to see DEATH.
7)5, no errors
Shoot the Elephant
1)4
2)4
3)4.5, It made me think what do I do for me or what do I do because I was influenced.
4)3.5, Some what it was mostly his and some of the crowd.
5)3
6)4, What I did get is that the policeman hated his job and his life.
7)5, no errors
My father always said
1)5
2)5
3)4, I understand "In Rindheim, you just didn't do such things".
4)5, The movement was great. I like the history, struggle, and the love story.
5)5
6)5, It was logical and clear. And now that saying carried with it hstory, a feeling of pride, hope, and togethetness.
7)5, no errors
Alive
1)5
2)3.5
3)3, This essay shows that no matter how alert a person can be, "as long as you are alive, you are vulnerable just because you are alive.
4)2
5)3
6)3
7)5, no errors.
Westbury Place
1)4
2)4, The pattern to me was deeper and deeper until the author really saw her reality.
3)4
4)3
5)4, She, the writer, gave good details because I could feel her experience.
6)5, It was logical because after the fires she saw herself connect with her reality by now listening to what was going on in the hallway and her neighbor's apartment. She did not lock her self away in her "fantasy world" by the watching of General Hospital.
7)5, no errors.
Desent
1)5, I think the author shows that people do judge you on apperance. But she was brave enough to step in and defilate a bad situation.
2)3
3)4
4)3
5)3, The essay did start off slow and then it picked up and became interesting.
6)3
7)5, no errors.
Crossing the Border
1)4
2)4
3)5, I like that not only a culture difference, but language too.
4)4
5)4
6)4, It was a good essay because you see the conflict in "Crossing the Border". It was also crossing into a different culture.
7)5, no errors.
sue
1) 4 - The essay was focused on the notebook and the benefits of keeping a notebook. 2) 3.5 - 3) 1 ;4)1 & 5)- This essay was very clear on the purpose the auther wrote it. It gave references on the benefits and libalities of keeping a notebook. The author was very straight forward and the title tells exactly what the essay is about.
"Superman and Me"
Subject at hand (4) - Literary devices (3.5) - Plot, Action, Character, Dialogue (4)
Circling (4.5) - Organization (4) - Presentation of Experience (5) - Innovation and Experimental
form (2) - This essay was one that I enjoyed because the author left you the reader with the feeling that anything is possible as long as you read. He inspiried me to read more.
Out There
1)4
2)2
3)3
4)2
5)4
6)2, I really did not understand why the man started chasing her on the highway. She did explain why she is "out there" because of her many issues going on in her life.
7)5, I did not see any errors and since this is a published piece I would not expect to see any.
Toward a define of Creative Non fiction
1)3, The author did give good examples of pieces of cnf.
2)4, the pattern was to esblish what should be in a cnf
3)4
4)5, the writer gave multi-perspectives with the different pieces of cnf
5)2.5 some reflection, but not alot.
6)3
7)5, saw no errors. This piece to me seemed like a learning piece. It's function is for the cnf to have a general ideal of what a cnf should look like.
Biography of a Dress
1)5, yes the details in this essay is great. I can see the yellow dress.
2)4.5, Her focal point was the photograph and she gave all aspects of the photo. The time it was taken, the reason it was taken, the labor that went into getting her their to take the photo.
3)4, It showed the layers of the photo. And after reading the deatils of the photo. I, the reader saw the investment in the photo.
4)3,
5)5, She used a lot of detailed, and that is what I enjoyed.
6)4
7)5, no errors
That men should not judge
1)5, very original
2)2.5,
3)4, It did develop my focus. Before I wanted family to remember what I did in my lifetime, but now my death and how my family observers me is now important.
4)3
5)2
6)2.5, I really enjoyed the essay because it gave me another way to see life or rather another way to see DEATH.
7)5, no errors
Shoot the Elephant
1)4
2)4
3)4.5, It made me think what do I do for me or what do I do because I was influenced.
4)3.5, Some what it was mostly his and some of the crowd.
5)3
6)4, What I did get is that the policeman hated his job and his life.
7)5, no errors
My father always said
1)5
2)5
3)4, I understand "In Rindheim, you just didn't do such things".
4)5, The movement was great. I like the history, struggle, and the love story.
5)5
6)5, It was logical and clear. And now that saying carried with it hstory, a feeling of pride, hope, and togethetness.
7)5, no errors
Alive
1)5
2)3.5
3)3, This essay shows that no matter how alert a person can be, "as long as you are alive, you are vulnerable just because you are alive.
4)2
5)3
6)3
7)5, no errors.
Westbury Place
1)4
2)4, The pattern to me was deeper and deeper until the author really saw her reality.
3)4
4)3
5)4, She, the writer, gave good details because I could feel her experience.
6)5, It was logical because after the fires she saw herself connect with her reality by now listening to what was going on in the hallway and her neighbor's apartment. She did not lock her self away in her "fantasy world" by the watching of General Hospital.
7)5, no errors.
Desent
1)5, I think the author shows that people do judge you on apperance. But she was brave enough to step in and defilate a bad situation.
2)3
3)4
4)3
5)3, The essay did start off slow and then it picked up and became interesting.
6)3
7)5, no errors.
Crossing the Border
1)4
2)4
3)5, I like that not only a culture difference, but language too.
4)4
5)4
6)4, It was a good essay because you see the conflict in "Crossing the Border". It was also crossing into a different culture.
7)5, no errors.
sue
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Blog #5 Westbury Place
The focus of this essay is that the author really did not think that where her and her family lived was violent, but by looking at it from a wider lens, she realized that it was violent. Once the violence came into her home with the thief, snd the violence directly effect the family, they moved. The author saw her apartment as an "elevated castle" with violence not being able to touch her.
This structure is different from the essay ALIVE, because the author is starting specific (with self) and then widen the view. Once she saw the violence around her the "elevated house" began to descend.
The focal point was how she saw herself, her apartment, and the world around her.
This structure is different from the essay ALIVE, because the author is starting specific (with self) and then widen the view. Once she saw the violence around her the "elevated house" began to descend.
The focal point was how she saw herself, her apartment, and the world around her.
Blog #5
ALIVE--
The structure of this essay started off vague as a person concerned with the serial killer in Baton Rouge and the feeling of elevated alertness that comes with that situation. The point of this essay is that you would think an ex-police officer would handle alertness very easily but this essay shows the author handled it like the average person. Also just being ALIVE makes a person vulnerable.
The structure is vague to specific. The essay started off with her knowing that a serial killer is lose in her home town(vague). Then with each paragraph the author gets so specific that she believes a man is staking her and this is because her sense of alertness is high.
Then it concludes with the sense that eventhough she was an ex-police officer, and her training she is still "vulnerable simply because I'm alive".
The center is alertness and the author is taken a life event and judging it as a whole.
The structure of this essay started off vague as a person concerned with the serial killer in Baton Rouge and the feeling of elevated alertness that comes with that situation. The point of this essay is that you would think an ex-police officer would handle alertness very easily but this essay shows the author handled it like the average person. Also just being ALIVE makes a person vulnerable.
The structure is vague to specific. The essay started off with her knowing that a serial killer is lose in her home town(vague). Then with each paragraph the author gets so specific that she believes a man is staking her and this is because her sense of alertness is high.
Then it concludes with the sense that eventhough she was an ex-police officer, and her training she is still "vulnerable simply because I'm alive".
The center is alertness and the author is taken a life event and judging it as a whole.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Blog #4
From the CNF point, the form is circling deeper and deeper. Also this piece has presentation of experience. The center is "In Rindheim, we didn't do such things". The focus was her father who was a Rindheim jew. The piece by piece account of the Rindheim jews, which her father was one of. It told a story of different events and or experiences they went through and the last paragraph stated what was said in the first paragraph "In Rindheim, we didn't do such things" and in the last paragraph she understood what her father meant by that saying. And in each new paragraph the father showed his daughter how the Rindheims bonded together under trying circumstances (World War II), which supported the saying by giving his daughter a little history of the people in the village (Rindheim). In the last paragraph the writer stated "suddenly carried more weight, giving me a history and legitimacy that would have made me not mind, as much". The writer is saying that now she understands what her father meant when he said "In Rindheim, we didn't do such things".
The first paragraph tells the reader where the father and his family is presently, Queens Blvd, New York. The saying would come up when the daughter would become to "American". The father did not want her to forget her history.
The second paragraph was a trip back to the "old country". There was an old man asking "Aren't you a loewengart, maybe Julius or Arthur"? The old man remembers her father or one of his brothers. In this paragraph the reader also sees her father's fear when the old man invited them into his old house. The father did not want to enter. The reader also gets some history as to how many Rindheim Jews fled to America (250 people).
The third paragraph was her father not wanting to enter the Synagogue because of its history. The Synagogue was a place where the Rindheim Jew felt safe until it was torched and everything in flames. The father's memories was to painful for him to enter.
This fourth paragraph dealt with people in surrounding town which the father pointed out quickly "But these people wern't from Rindheim". The paragraph showed his prided in being a Rindheim.
The fifth paragraph dealt with the father and mother courtship, and that brought a smile from her mother. This was about her parents had fun "to hear more about my parents having fun.
The sixth paragraph dealt with paying respect to the dead. "It's how you pay tribute to the dead". The father is telling his daughter about the placement of the stones.
And the last paragraph deals with the saying "In Rindheim, we didn't do such things" and now the daugher has a much better understanding of what the father means.
The gaps symbolized the end of an event or thought and the begining of a new one with the focus being the experience of the Rindheim jew ( be it a group or an individual).
The first paragraph tells the reader where the father and his family is presently, Queens Blvd, New York. The saying would come up when the daughter would become to "American". The father did not want her to forget her history.
The second paragraph was a trip back to the "old country". There was an old man asking "Aren't you a loewengart, maybe Julius or Arthur"? The old man remembers her father or one of his brothers. In this paragraph the reader also sees her father's fear when the old man invited them into his old house. The father did not want to enter. The reader also gets some history as to how many Rindheim Jews fled to America (250 people).
The third paragraph was her father not wanting to enter the Synagogue because of its history. The Synagogue was a place where the Rindheim Jew felt safe until it was torched and everything in flames. The father's memories was to painful for him to enter.
This fourth paragraph dealt with people in surrounding town which the father pointed out quickly "But these people wern't from Rindheim". The paragraph showed his prided in being a Rindheim.
The fifth paragraph dealt with the father and mother courtship, and that brought a smile from her mother. This was about her parents had fun "to hear more about my parents having fun.
The sixth paragraph dealt with paying respect to the dead. "It's how you pay tribute to the dead". The father is telling his daughter about the placement of the stones.
And the last paragraph deals with the saying "In Rindheim, we didn't do such things" and now the daugher has a much better understanding of what the father means.
The gaps symbolized the end of an event or thought and the begining of a new one with the focus being the experience of the Rindheim jew ( be it a group or an individual).
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Blog #3
The two essays I read have similarities and differences with the previous essays. First, let us begin with the similarities. Both Orwell and Montaigne are both telling the essays from their point of view (1st person). Both allows the reader to dig deeper and investigate how they felt about race and death. They both developed their individual essay and gave us as readers a window into their souls. After reading Orwell, I probed myself to see how I felt about race. And I can identify with Orwell being the minority. Also I looked at my life and where I made a decision solely based on outside pressure. Now with Montaigne, I examined death and how I would handle it. As a reader both authors did their jobs. They made me reflect on my own feelings on race and death.
The differences between Orwell and Montaingne are many but I will just list a few. First Orwell used the elephant and whether or not you precieved it as harmful or harmless was all based on your cultural experience. I thought that was brilliant. Orwell also showed the ugly part of race by sharing his feelings about being a police officer, ill- education, and on his life in Burma. His focal point was the elephant. Orwell's words were more harsh and sharp, and that was very different from the previous essays we read.
Montaingne talked about death. What I liked was that he looked at life through death's eyes. Will you die "patiently and tranquilly" and that is how you judge the man. Not judging the man on his life and accomplishments but on how he dies. Montaingne also dealt with God, because back then religion was very important, and most, if not all, the people could not wait to meet God. This was different from the earlier essays because Montaingne's focal point was death and that was the test of a man not his accomplishments or the way he lived his life.
sue
The differences between Orwell and Montaingne are many but I will just list a few. First Orwell used the elephant and whether or not you precieved it as harmful or harmless was all based on your cultural experience. I thought that was brilliant. Orwell also showed the ugly part of race by sharing his feelings about being a police officer, ill- education, and on his life in Burma. His focal point was the elephant. Orwell's words were more harsh and sharp, and that was very different from the previous essays we read.
Montaingne talked about death. What I liked was that he looked at life through death's eyes. Will you die "patiently and tranquilly" and that is how you judge the man. Not judging the man on his life and accomplishments but on how he dies. Montaingne also dealt with God, because back then religion was very important, and most, if not all, the people could not wait to meet God. This was different from the earlier essays because Montaingne's focal point was death and that was the test of a man not his accomplishments or the way he lived his life.
sue
Monday, September 15, 2008
Blog #2- Definition of creative nonfiction
After reading both readings (Lott, pg 270 and Kincaid, pg 209) a couple to times Creative nonfiction seems more clear to me. Lott's definition was a definition. His writings gave examples of others that wrote about creative nonfiction. I liked a few quotations, "Rather ,it is writing about oneself in relation to the subject at hand" (Lott, pg 271). And "relate to a chinese boxes that you keep opening, only to find a smaller one within" (Lott, pg 275). Both quotations tells or shows me that creative nonfiction is my experience in relation to the world. It is taking one part of my life and relating it to my surroundings. It is the chinese boxes that I keep opening and finding a deeper meaning of self. It is putting myself under a microscope and with kindness or judgement tell the reader what the microscope means to me. It is as Lott said "creative nonfiction is to understand, that is everything" (Lott, pg 277). And that is why I write, I write to understand myself in a situation. To get the greater meaning of my purpose in life. To be a better mother, and a better human being. Lott helped me understand creative nonfiction but more powerful he helped me clarify my writings. Lotts discussion gives me a more general ideal of what creative nonfiction is.
Kincaid, I just love. I read one of her writings in another english class "Jamaican Girl" and that was about a jamaican girl becoming a jamaican woman in the Caribbean, and what is expected of her. This writing"Biography of a Dress" was her experience in turning 2 years old. And to me it was an example of creative nonfiction. This essay added a personal account of a event in her life and compared it to what she knows now, if anything. She gave the event and went into great detail of that event, for example, about her yellow dress she wore to take her picture when she turned 2 years old. She described the color in such detail that anyone could picture that yellow dress as boiled cornmeal. Kincaid's details were very personal and specific.
Both discussions were on creative nonfiction. Lott's discussion was more general and Kincaid's discussion was very personal and specific. Both clarified to me what a creative nonfiction writing consists of.
Kincaid, I just love. I read one of her writings in another english class "Jamaican Girl" and that was about a jamaican girl becoming a jamaican woman in the Caribbean, and what is expected of her. This writing"Biography of a Dress" was her experience in turning 2 years old. And to me it was an example of creative nonfiction. This essay added a personal account of a event in her life and compared it to what she knows now, if anything. She gave the event and went into great detail of that event, for example, about her yellow dress she wore to take her picture when she turned 2 years old. She described the color in such detail that anyone could picture that yellow dress as boiled cornmeal. Kincaid's details were very personal and specific.
Both discussions were on creative nonfiction. Lott's discussion was more general and Kincaid's discussion was very personal and specific. Both clarified to me what a creative nonfiction writing consists of.
Monday, September 8, 2008
first entry
Hi this is Sue
Non fiction creative is building on your reality. It is how you, the writer, use words to bring more power, more emotion to the text. It gives the reader an image of what the author wrote. For example, Jane walked down the street. This sentences has no emotion and does not give a clear visual for the reader. It should read - Jane floated down the street. Now the reader can picture the emotion of happiness or joy, and maybe a cloud or two. Just by the insert of a new word gives the sentence an emotion. The sentence with the word "floated" created a emotion that was not there with the word "walk".
Non fiction creative is building on your reality. It is how you, the writer, use words to bring more power, more emotion to the text. It gives the reader an image of what the author wrote. For example, Jane walked down the street. This sentences has no emotion and does not give a clear visual for the reader. It should read - Jane floated down the street. Now the reader can picture the emotion of happiness or joy, and maybe a cloud or two. Just by the insert of a new word gives the sentence an emotion. The sentence with the word "floated" created a emotion that was not there with the word "walk".
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