|
Friday, June 5, 2009
Dear Reader
Dear Reader,
Looking into the mirror, I ask myself, “Who am I, really?” I find it easier to describe myself looking in the mirror than to put it in writing for an audience; however, I am going to give it my best shot. Going back to school was a huge decision, as I am not a spring chicken. In high school I wasn’t that motivated to get good grades, and I definitely wasn’t thinking about how important future education would be, especially in today’s hard economic times. I love making money; in fact, in ninth grade my, girlfriend and I got a job working at a restaurant after school and told our parents we were studying at each other’s houses. It wasn’t until my mom came to the restaurant to have dinner with a friend that I was busted. Needless to say, the job was over.
Throughout the years, I have had pretty decent jobs, and I moved out of the house at nineteen. At twenty-three I married my wonderful husband, who was and still is a construction contractor, and landed some great jobs cleaning new construction. Along with that, my sister and I opened a children’s consignment shop, which was a lot of fun. I enjoy the flexibility of working for myself. When my babies were born, I wanted to stay home with them and be a mom. It wasn’t until they both were in school that I wanted to work again. I am not one to just hang out at home and do lunch. I invested in real estate school, and for the next fifteen years I sat in the model homes for a very successful builder. With the economy in turmoil, I made the decision to go back to school and get my Ph.D. in psychology. I have always been intrigued with the function of one’s mind and what makes them tick, as I have dealt with a lot of mental people in my life.
This first quarter has been exciting, challenging, and at times a bit stressful. I had no idea what to expect and how demanding it would be. I was thrilled to find out we would be writing in my English course, as I have always kept journals and written short stories on my life. I love to write, and I have numerous letters to my kids filed away in their cedar box. One day they will read them and have a good laugh. I know this class has kept me on the move, with little time for anything else, but it has been worth it to me. Learning how to punctuate properly, set up paragraphs, and how to be more descriptive, as well as many other skills, has been such a benefit in my life. I am so much more aware of how my sentences flow and transition into the next paragraph. It is important to establish goals, locate resources, detect issues, and practice procedures in the respective work group or class.
I have also come to realize that communication, both receiving and giving information, is vital, in class as well as outside of class. Working together in the peer response groups and giving each other constructive criticism was very helpful to me in my writing assignments. It showed me the readers’ interest in my story-line. Every little comment from my peers, and especially from my instructor, is what guided me through my work to its final completion. I will be sharing with you the following reflections: MWA number two, “The Descriptive Paragraph,” titled, “ What a Trip,” Journal number four, titled, “The Car was Messy,” Blog four titled, “Instant Relief,” and, last but not least, my MWA number one, “The Descriptive Paragraph,” titled, “Zanon’s Garden.” My mind feels like it’s been exercised…lol I wonder if my kids will notice the difference in their letters now that I am a professional. I am looking forward to continuing my commitment in receiving my Ph.D. in psychology. Thank you, Phebe, for making me think on my own.
Looking into the mirror, I ask myself, “Who am I, really?” I find it easier to describe myself looking in the mirror than to put it in writing for an audience; however, I am going to give it my best shot. Going back to school was a huge decision, as I am not a spring chicken. In high school I wasn’t that motivated to get good grades, and I definitely wasn’t thinking about how important future education would be, especially in today’s hard economic times. I love making money; in fact, in ninth grade my, girlfriend and I got a job working at a restaurant after school and told our parents we were studying at each other’s houses. It wasn’t until my mom came to the restaurant to have dinner with a friend that I was busted. Needless to say, the job was over.
Throughout the years, I have had pretty decent jobs, and I moved out of the house at nineteen. At twenty-three I married my wonderful husband, who was and still is a construction contractor, and landed some great jobs cleaning new construction. Along with that, my sister and I opened a children’s consignment shop, which was a lot of fun. I enjoy the flexibility of working for myself. When my babies were born, I wanted to stay home with them and be a mom. It wasn’t until they both were in school that I wanted to work again. I am not one to just hang out at home and do lunch. I invested in real estate school, and for the next fifteen years I sat in the model homes for a very successful builder. With the economy in turmoil, I made the decision to go back to school and get my Ph.D. in psychology. I have always been intrigued with the function of one’s mind and what makes them tick, as I have dealt with a lot of mental people in my life.
This first quarter has been exciting, challenging, and at times a bit stressful. I had no idea what to expect and how demanding it would be. I was thrilled to find out we would be writing in my English course, as I have always kept journals and written short stories on my life. I love to write, and I have numerous letters to my kids filed away in their cedar box. One day they will read them and have a good laugh. I know this class has kept me on the move, with little time for anything else, but it has been worth it to me. Learning how to punctuate properly, set up paragraphs, and how to be more descriptive, as well as many other skills, has been such a benefit in my life. I am so much more aware of how my sentences flow and transition into the next paragraph. It is important to establish goals, locate resources, detect issues, and practice procedures in the respective work group or class.
I have also come to realize that communication, both receiving and giving information, is vital, in class as well as outside of class. Working together in the peer response groups and giving each other constructive criticism was very helpful to me in my writing assignments. It showed me the readers’ interest in my story-line. Every little comment from my peers, and especially from my instructor, is what guided me through my work to its final completion. I will be sharing with you the following reflections: MWA number two, “The Descriptive Paragraph,” titled, “ What a Trip,” Journal number four, titled, “The Car was Messy,” Blog four titled, “Instant Relief,” and, last but not least, my MWA number one, “The Descriptive Paragraph,” titled, “Zanon’s Garden.” My mind feels like it’s been exercised…lol I wonder if my kids will notice the difference in their letters now that I am a professional. I am looking forward to continuing my commitment in receiving my Ph.D. in psychology. Thank you, Phebe, for making me think on my own.
Introducing: What a Trip
For my first piece, I chose my second MWA for the descriptive narrative, “The Descriptive Paragraph,” which was turned in May 5, 2009. This writing assignment was the most challenging for me. I learned how to put together supporting details in a narrative paragraph, as well as how to arrange them in chronological order. I had difficulty elaborating on subjects, and I needed to give more detail regarding who, what, when, where, why, and how. I really had to rethink the descriptive wording. One thing that helps me write is to put myself in the mind of a reader. I worked hard on condensing it more and getting to the good stuff. I enjoyed the challenge of descriptive wording. I really had to think about picking this one because there are a lot of changes still to be made for the final draft and I honestly was not sure I was up for it. This piece has helped me learn how to condense long drawn out parts and focus more on the exciting area to grab the attention of the reader.
What a Trip
Five of my closest girlfriends and I were about to share in the bachelorette party I never had and always wanted. After all, I was preparing to celebrate my twentieth wedding anniversary. The first time around my husband and I were young and poor, so I settled for getting drunk at my sister’s apartment with her and a couple of casual friends. Being with friends of fifteen to twenty years and all the memories we share has so much more meaning. Little did we know this trip would leave us with a lasting impression on the value of life and the true meaning of friendship.
We arrived in Cabo San Lucuas after an exciting flight of gut wrenching laughter and embarked on the next leg of our journey, in a black sleek limousine. After a luxurious ride that included champagne, we finally arrived at our condo and what a condo it turned out to be.
As we entered our suite the beauty overwhelmed us, the floor was golden brown marble with traces of black to tie in the colors of the lovely décor. It was elegant, just the way any woman would love. Out on the veranda the concierge had set up a welcoming bar with the most thirst- quenching Passion Mango drinks. We toasted all around as we unpacked our belongings and headed down to the beach. The minute our toes touch the sand and our gaze met the water, we felt like we were in paradise. We were all in a state of euphoria as we headed back to our condo to discuss our plans for the next day.
The following morning, still in a deep sleep I heard one of the girls yell, “Breakfast is at eleven, you have thirty minutes to rise and shine.” One by one we crawled out of bed feeling the post party trauma from the passion mango drinks; nonetheless, it was worth every drop. I said, “Let’s hurry; champagne brunch is awaiting our arrival.” Laughing and joking all the way to the restaurant one of the girls said, “I have this foggy memory of doing the cha cha on one of the poolside tables.” We all confirmed her memory was correct. The brunch was absolutely scrumptious. It consisted of caviar, roast beef that melted in your mouth, and anything your appetite desired. We started with a bottle of Dom Perignon and headed to the buffet. Within the hour we were back in the party spirit of the previous night’s reveling. We spent the rest of the day walking around to all of the stores and available entertainment the resort had to offer.
On the morning of the third day I woke up feeling refreshed from a good night’s sleep. I got up and asked the girls if they wanted to go relax on the beach and work on our tans?”
They all said, “Absolutely!” We got on our bathing suits and gathered our bags loaded with goodies, yet little did we know it would be one of the most frightening experiences that would bring us even closer together. The sun was radiant sending instant warmth to our faces, with the breeze that felt refreshing. You could smell the ocean and the exotic sunscreen, on all the many vacationers, along with the sound of happy voices and wild waves alive and full of joy. We dropped our bags and proceeded to the water. Cautiously, three of us waded up to our ankles about three feet from shore, letting the water crash up on our warm skin feeling the coolness. As the waves receded back into the ocean, the pull was so strong we could barely hold ourselves up. Not realizing, I was now about two feet closer to the ocean then the rest of my friends. I was consumed in the enjoyment when one of the girls screamed, “Run!” I looked behind me and there was a huge, frightening, black wave that once looked calming and vivid blue. I only had seconds to feel the horrifying fear before the wave completely swallowed me up. Inside the mouth of my now enemy, I was frantically thrashing around trying to survive as it sucked me in further and further down.
After what seemed like hours, the dark wave spit me out with vengeance. I was now about thirty more feet toward the ocean and the pull of the water was so extreme that I did not that the strength to get back on my feet. I looked around and saw my sister who was back on shore as I screamed, “Kelly save me!” She immediately with no hesitation of the danger she was putting herself into, ran to me and grabbed my hand. At that moment the black wave raged over us, ripping our hands apart and taking us out once again. This horrible ordea proceeded three more times. We were both in an unbelievable nightmare, dying in an ocean that once seemed so harmless. All I could think of was holding my breath and trying to stay alive.
Our friends on shore were in a panic of fear, crying and screaming for help as they watched us fighting for our lives. Somewhere in the midst of drowning someone grabbed me, pulled me out, and carried me to shore. I sat there in shock, uncontrollably shaking, with my suit on backwards undoubtedly from the force of the waves; nevertheless, I watched as our rescuer who was very handsome and physically capable to take on the dark waves went back into the ocean to rescue my sister. Within minute, we were both safe and sound sitting side by side. I reached over and took my sister’s hand and said, “I love you, thank you for almost dying with me.”
With a mixture of fear and love in her voice, my sister responded, “Anytime little girl. I love you too.” That night we all went out to dinner and everyone shared their experience of that frightening nightmare; needless to say, we were all in tears. From that moment on, things seemed so unreal. We all realized just how quickly our lives could be over, and how helpless we all can be at times. To think we were in paradise and in seconds we were in hell. What a trip indeed.
We arrived in Cabo San Lucuas after an exciting flight of gut wrenching laughter and embarked on the next leg of our journey, in a black sleek limousine. After a luxurious ride that included champagne, we finally arrived at our condo and what a condo it turned out to be.
As we entered our suite the beauty overwhelmed us, the floor was golden brown marble with traces of black to tie in the colors of the lovely décor. It was elegant, just the way any woman would love. Out on the veranda the concierge had set up a welcoming bar with the most thirst- quenching Passion Mango drinks. We toasted all around as we unpacked our belongings and headed down to the beach. The minute our toes touch the sand and our gaze met the water, we felt like we were in paradise. We were all in a state of euphoria as we headed back to our condo to discuss our plans for the next day.
The following morning, still in a deep sleep I heard one of the girls yell, “Breakfast is at eleven, you have thirty minutes to rise and shine.” One by one we crawled out of bed feeling the post party trauma from the passion mango drinks; nonetheless, it was worth every drop. I said, “Let’s hurry; champagne brunch is awaiting our arrival.” Laughing and joking all the way to the restaurant one of the girls said, “I have this foggy memory of doing the cha cha on one of the poolside tables.” We all confirmed her memory was correct. The brunch was absolutely scrumptious. It consisted of caviar, roast beef that melted in your mouth, and anything your appetite desired. We started with a bottle of Dom Perignon and headed to the buffet. Within the hour we were back in the party spirit of the previous night’s reveling. We spent the rest of the day walking around to all of the stores and available entertainment the resort had to offer.
On the morning of the third day I woke up feeling refreshed from a good night’s sleep. I got up and asked the girls if they wanted to go relax on the beach and work on our tans?”
They all said, “Absolutely!” We got on our bathing suits and gathered our bags loaded with goodies, yet little did we know it would be one of the most frightening experiences that would bring us even closer together. The sun was radiant sending instant warmth to our faces, with the breeze that felt refreshing. You could smell the ocean and the exotic sunscreen, on all the many vacationers, along with the sound of happy voices and wild waves alive and full of joy. We dropped our bags and proceeded to the water. Cautiously, three of us waded up to our ankles about three feet from shore, letting the water crash up on our warm skin feeling the coolness. As the waves receded back into the ocean, the pull was so strong we could barely hold ourselves up. Not realizing, I was now about two feet closer to the ocean then the rest of my friends. I was consumed in the enjoyment when one of the girls screamed, “Run!” I looked behind me and there was a huge, frightening, black wave that once looked calming and vivid blue. I only had seconds to feel the horrifying fear before the wave completely swallowed me up. Inside the mouth of my now enemy, I was frantically thrashing around trying to survive as it sucked me in further and further down.
After what seemed like hours, the dark wave spit me out with vengeance. I was now about thirty more feet toward the ocean and the pull of the water was so extreme that I did not that the strength to get back on my feet. I looked around and saw my sister who was back on shore as I screamed, “Kelly save me!” She immediately with no hesitation of the danger she was putting herself into, ran to me and grabbed my hand. At that moment the black wave raged over us, ripping our hands apart and taking us out once again. This horrible ordea proceeded three more times. We were both in an unbelievable nightmare, dying in an ocean that once seemed so harmless. All I could think of was holding my breath and trying to stay alive.
Our friends on shore were in a panic of fear, crying and screaming for help as they watched us fighting for our lives. Somewhere in the midst of drowning someone grabbed me, pulled me out, and carried me to shore. I sat there in shock, uncontrollably shaking, with my suit on backwards undoubtedly from the force of the waves; nevertheless, I watched as our rescuer who was very handsome and physically capable to take on the dark waves went back into the ocean to rescue my sister. Within minute, we were both safe and sound sitting side by side. I reached over and took my sister’s hand and said, “I love you, thank you for almost dying with me.”
With a mixture of fear and love in her voice, my sister responded, “Anytime little girl. I love you too.” That night we all went out to dinner and everyone shared their experience of that frightening nightmare; needless to say, we were all in tears. From that moment on, things seemed so unreal. We all realized just how quickly our lives could be over, and how helpless we all can be at times. To think we were in paradise and in seconds we were in hell. What a trip indeed.
Introducing: The Car was Messy
For my second piece for the descriptive writing, “Show Not Tell,” I chose one of my journal entries, “The Car was Messy,” which was written April 8, 2009. I learned that a dominant impression is a primary reaction to what I am describing. What a blast this one was! I remember writing this one within five minutes. The words just flowed out, which surprised me. I had an opportunity to get into the descriptive area. I always enjoy sitting down to write with a hot cup of tea and letting my thoughts flow through my fingers and onto paper. One descriptive example I found humorous was, “I could almost smell the horrible, smelling sock that that was no longer breathing.” My sensory details came out in this piece. I read it to all my friends and family, and they all got a good laugh.
The Car was Messy
One cold, brisk morning, I hurried out to warm up my car. As I entered, I was completely flabbergasted by the sight of several empty bags of Cheetos along with their trailing glow of crumbs. In the cup holder was a half-full latte cup with dribbles of chocolate-flavored espresso that had drained to the bottom of the cup holder, gluing the cup in place. On the floor board were hundreds of tiny, black rubber beads that fell out of a soccer shoe from a previous game, lying on its side with a sock hanging out of it that was no longer breathing, only reeking of sour Fritos. I am amazed that in two hours, my husband and son could trash my rig.
Introducing: Instant Relief
The third piece I chose was, “Blog Number Four,” posted on May 20, 2009. This blog is related to my third MWA, “The Process Essay,” which explains how or why something works. I felt this piece was a strong audience-awareness statement, and that I made it clear as a writer what it means to be stress free by eliminating clutter. I went through the questions regarding,
“Establishing Audience and Purpose,” on page 14 of “Progressions with Readings,” in doing so, I feel I did indeed inform my readers of one way to eliminate unnecessary stress in order to live a healthier and more productive life.
“Establishing Audience and Purpose,” on page 14 of “Progressions with Readings,” in doing so, I feel I did indeed inform my readers of one way to eliminate unnecessary stress in order to live a healthier and more productive life.
Instant Relief
I really believe that one reason for mental stress and confusion can be from letting your house get overly cluttered. Since the spring quarter started, I have done just that. I have been very down and grouchy, and I can't find anything in my room. There is no way anyone could start her day on a positive note with a dirty, cluttered room. My closet, was awful to the point that I took a before and after picture so I could remember to clean up after myself even when I am exhausted. It doesn’t take much to pick up your clothes right away, and if you wait, it will pile up quickly. Seriously, at the moments when I finished cleaning an area, I could feel instant relief and mental healing. If anyone else is having this issue, try a quick clean and you’ll be amazed at how great you feel. Waking up in the morning to a clean room is refreshing.
Introducing: Zanon's Garden
For my fourth and final piece I decided on MWA number one, “Zanon’s Garden,” written on April 20, 2009. This was my introduction to learning about descriptive writing, verbs and nouns. Finding the subject and complete verb was a challenge for me until I figured out how to identify prepositional phrases. I specifically remember Phebe telling us that picking a person for the topic could be a bit difficult for the first assignment because a person is harder to describe, and she was right. After my first draft came back, I considered changing the topic and starting over because it would have been easier describing her warm, inviting kitchen. My peers’ comments on the story were touching. My inspiration to continue with the original topic was my beautiful grandma, Zanon, to whom I am dedicating this assignment with love.
Zanon'Garden
Grandma Zanon’s heart was like a garden in full bloom. She taught me how important it was to appreciate the beauty in life and our visits together were cherished, along with the freshly cut, vibrant bouquets from her garden that smelled delicious. Her hugs were warm and inviting, leaving me with a scent of lavender. My dear grandma and best friend became very ill at the age of eighty-seven. My heart broke when I realized that her days were fading. On my last visit with her, I looked into her once-vivid blue eyes, now pale gray. I smiled, gently touching her hand, feeling the beautiful, velvet skin. As she drifted to sleep, I caressed her hair, thinning but still lustrous white silver. I memorized every wrinkle as if it were telling me a story. As I bent over to kiss my friend's cheek, she opened her loving eyes. I could see the fear in them, and I cradled her close to me and whispered, “I love you,” “I promise to meet you in the Kingdom.” The room felt calm, and I realized at that moment that the garden was painted in my heart forever.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)