what are you saying?

Mainly growing up in Coral Springs, The absurdly improper way of speaking is a hamburger on a hot dog bun; it makes no sense! The town itself is mostly upper class, yet the kids speak like they have lived in the "hood" their entire lives. The lingo they use sounds like the screeching of nails along a chalkboard; it doesn't correlate with the meaning/point they are trying to get across.

Deserted

It was a chilly Sunday morning. The strong breeze pushed the tiny grains of sand back and forth in opposing directions with little effort. The fiery-red rising sun slowly departed from the tranquil, picturesque ocean that was resting directly below it and lazily lifted itself into the sky. The swaying palm trees sang quiet songs of contentment and occasionally whistled with great force when the wind whipped their protruding green leaves. Her eyes, sore from the salt given off by the sea, were snapped open with alarm once she realized where she was. She was a city girl, twenty-two years old, and her long, chocolate-brown hair was matted and in knots. What was left of her expensive black dress was now soaking wet and clung to her tightly. She picked up her aching head from off the ground and ran her hands across the hard, sandy earth which she sat upon. Looking around, she was alone. All she had for miles was the ocean and the small island that she appeared to be stranded on. “What can I possibly do?” she spoke aloud as if someone was going to respond to her. With no solution, uncontrollable tears streamed down her dirty face and cries of helplessness quietly escaped out of her mouth. She pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face into her cupped hands as if she was making a wish to be home and safe. Then, a shock of reality hit her hard, and she knew if she was vulnerable and weak, there was no chance for her to survive on this barren island. Once gaining enough strength, she rose to her feet and began to set off on her uncharted journey. The blazing heat of the approaching afternoon was so unbearable that after dragging her fragile body for nearly half a mile, she collapsed instantly. When she finally regained consciousness, she opened her eyes to a completely different site. A dark, bamboo constructed hut with a straw roof hung over her dizzy head. In the far corner she saw a beautifully tanned man staring at her with fierce, electric green eyes. “Excuse me, um, who are you?” she obliviously asked. “I found you on the beach, nonresponsive and out-cold from dehydration” he replied informingly. She gazed at him with thankful eyes, and he looked back at her with admiration. She got up, made her way toward him and began to embrace him with all the strength she could find; she was not alone.

what is hidden in the crots?

The helpless and embarrassed young child slouches, arms hanging loosely on each side of his body with a sense of defeat. His bright teal and bold red shirt gives off an inverse impression of happiness and brightness, but inside the depths of his body lies a dark tortured soul for one reason or another. The crinkled and unkempt brown paper bag pulled tightly over his fragile head hides his despair and perception of reality in the harsh, unfair world. His widely set feet and goofy light red sneakers resemble, in a way, a clown who constantly is being laughed at for every single one of his actions. He is agonizingly ashamed and extremely embarrassed.

on my way to class...

As i walk to class at about 9:30, I have usually arrived at Landis Green. The green grass is covered with cold, wet, fresh morning dew. It is cold and uncomfortable when it touches my feet, and I try to locate the long, zig-zagging cement path lost between the towering blades of grass. Once I am able to reach the path I come upon the chlorine-smelling fountain located right in the middle of the Green. I stare longingly at the brass, tarnished statues standing in a frozen pose in the light blue water. The blazing and hot sun always makes me wish I could jump into the water and completely submerge myself to escape the unbearable heat. Then I snap back to reality and keep on dragging my heavy, tired legs across the never ending field. When I see the florescent orange plastic gate put up due to the loud construction, I am overjoyed and my pounding heart begins to finally slow. On to the next path.

The Female Writers

Anne Lamott’s “Shitty First Drafts” essay strongly stresses the importance of just getting anything down on paper no matter how stupid or drawn out it is. She also explains that writing is an ongoing process and is constantly in need of change. Although we think great writers just write their novels successfully in one day, they go through the steps just as everyone else does with little certainty or confidence. Lorrie Moore’s “How to Become a Writer” is written as more of a story line that tells you you’re allowed to be funny and seem crazy in order to write. It also makes me feel like I can relate to and imagine myself as Francie by the way she tells the story, kind of stating what you should do.  In Gail Godwin’s “The Watcher at the Gates” she says that she likes to be a “neat” writer. The concept of her essay is to find the demon inside of you that stops you when you’re writing and to compromise with it and slowly be able to block it out. Lamott and Godwin’s essays are very similar in the sense of being able to bottle up the things in your mind that distract you from reaching your ultimate goal of completing your writing. Lamott’s method is to kind of torture the voices in her head with the sound proof jar and watch them struggle to try to get to her. Godwin’s tactic leans more towards tricking the “watcher” and trying to, as Godwin says, “Outsmart, pacify or coexist” with it so you can write more successfully. They both worry about making a fool of themselves and the possibility of failure, while Moore’s essay is about being very carefree and following your instincts. Moore and Lamott’s essays are similar with their concept of just going out on a whim and letting what comes to mind that second be said or written. They both have a kind of sarcastic sense of humor in their essays that allows you to understand the feelings they have. All of the essays are very different, yet similar in their own ways, and they all speak to me. Lamott’s essay helped me to realize that writing takes time and it is important to get all of your thoughts out no matter how confusing they appear in the beginning because eventually it will all come together and make sense. Moore’s essay taught me to follow your instincts and do what you like; you’re allowed to be rebellious. Godwin’s essay gave me great tips on how to compromise with the inner critic that is standing in your way.

digital selves

Today, the internet is one of the main ways of being able to communicate, find information, and do many tasks. As a fellow online network user, i have a facebook as well as a twitter. Having a smart phone, i constantly go on and check these sites for new posts and information because all i have to do is click the app with my finger. I would say that my digital self is pretty much the same as my physical self, i always tell it like it is, on or off the internet. You don't realize how much you are connected to the internet world until you go one day without being able to check your profiles and have withdrawals...haha. Also i love to go online shopping because you are able to buy things in the comfort of your own home without having to get out of bed. Also, you don't have to worry about long lines in the fitting rooms or vicious people with on manners bumping into you. the internet is a big part of my life.

First Week Emotions at FSU!

When i first got to FSU I felt an immediate rush of freedom. I knew for the first time I would be on my own, not just for a weekend, but for six whole weeks. I was so excited and just wanted to get out there and meet a bunch of new people. when it was time for my parents to finally say goodbye after all the packing was done, reality set in. How am I going to be able to function on my own when my parents naturally did so much for me with out question. Then the tears began to flow and a sense of vulnerability ran through my entire body. I was still here, and they were seven hours away. When they left, me and my roommate went and explored the campus and were very pleased with the atmosphere. Everyone smiled and talked to you, and even waited to hold the door for you. that would never happen in my high school. Then I went out that night and had so much fun and met so many people just like me, and i realized you have to grow up at some point in time. my time was now, and I was ready.