During the week of September 22, 2014, we had one class. During class, we had a tech issue with the projector, so we had to listen to a video about a football player and his manager. It was definitely a learning experience, and turned out to be a positive product through a negative factor. Moving on, because that last sentence sounded like a math formula and this is for my English class, we were told to comment on other people's blogs. I really enjoyed that activity, and hope we do it again in the future. I learned more about the students that I go to class with. We also got three texts to read over the week, and they basically showed examples of the imagery that Mr. Mangini wanted us to write in our "Showing Scenes" assignment. A lot more showing and a lot less telling. It definitely helped me out with my scene writing.
In my scene writing, I used one whole scenario and split it apart. That scenario had the awkward place of the library. It also had the familiar place of my home, and more specifically my room. I also did some imagery for the distaste of my neighbors. Needless to say, I enjoyed that assignment a lot. I need to split it up in paragraphs though. Out of my blog posts, I found a sentence that I did not really explain a lot about, so I will try to explain about it here. It is a sentence from my Week 3 Reflection. To start off, it was from my class during the week of September 15, 2014. We had to do a storyboard activity. The sentence was, "I really enjoyed doing the storyboard activity, it felt involving." It was a Thursday class, the date was September 18, 2014. In class, we were going to do a storyboard on the writing "Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life (Anne Lamott)." I felt very nervous about having to group up with people and speak out. Although, I have done this before, it has been a long time since. Going more into detail, I haven't been in an actual classroom since 4th grade. Calculating since 4th grade, it has been 9 years. It is a shell that I need to come out of, and can only come out of it if I work on it. That is a story for another time. Mr. Mangini was trying to figure out how to break us into groups. To break us up, he counted 1, 2, 3. Everyone that was 1, would group together. Everyone that was 2, would group together. Lastly, everyone that was 3, grouped together. I was 1. In my group, there were five other people. Sadly, I did not and do not remember their names. We discussed a few points in the text that was assigned for us to story board. We got three pages, another group got three pages, and the other group got what was left... Probably three pages. For our first part, we drew a picture of a lady who was stressed over what to write. She was sitting at her desk in total dismay. The second picture was of a brain that was running away. My memory is not very good on that one, so I may be incorrect. The third was of a lady driving a car, and the headlights were her only path. She was also writing a novel in the interim. The fourth picture, was of a boy who was picking up chicks. Now, that could be taken wrong. He was not picking up girls, he was picking up actually baby chicks to put into his basket. This was to describe the "Bird by Bird" concept. The last picture, was to describe the shitty first draft concept. Basically, it was a picture of writing that showed a child, because it refers to the "Children's Draft," and there was a piece of a turd on it. It was a red turd. This activity was a lot of fun, and it is something that I would look forward to doing again. In my personal life, I had a really long week. It was my sister's birthday, and as soon as I left my English class, we went to Aeropostale to spend her money on clothes. On Wednesday, I attended my Chemistry class in high school, and I found out that applications were to be sent to our guidance counselor for the National Honor Society. The previous week, I was trying to contact my Academic Advisor(AA), who takes care of ordering my courses and my GPA, to calculate my GPA. My AA comes back to me with a 3.19. I flipped out, and I told her my previous advisor came back with a 3.38 before he left. Over the summer, we had a shift. So, she wanted me to wait while she calculated it again. Unfortunately, when I found out about the Honor Society application, I could wait no longer. That application was due in two days. I called my Guidance counselor, and said, "I need my GPA to be recalculated, I did a college course during the summer." Another detail, I can do college courses and add it to my high school transcript. My guidance counselor got back to me with a 3.43. She said, I can submit the application anyways and add whatever I could. So I added all my club positions, my community service, and my accomplishments. Later on, on Friday, I asked if the DECA club (a business club I am in, and have been in, this is my 3rd year) had started their meetings. My school email has not been working well. I get a response that I am the President of the club. I immediately contacted my guidance counselor to tell her to add that to my application. Although I am excited about these happenings, I am also wondering if I can do everything. That requires a LOT of work. Am I spreading myself too thin? On Saturday, when that week was over, I got a call from the library. I had a book waiting for me because my high school book group meeting was on the upcoming Friday. Knowing that, I figured my college book group meeting was going to meet on Thursday. I went to the library to pick up my books, and the size was insane. Of course, I could read it on different circumstances, but I have a pile of stuff to do. I panicked. After walking home from the library, I was calmed down and figured I could probably do it. On Sunday, my mom wanted to try making some soap. When I say making soap, I mean melting pre-made soap and adding our own fragrance and color. It would be too long to wait for lye to lower in acidity. It was a lot of fun. It was our bonding time, we could talk a bit. We made the soap pink, and it smells like Jasmine. We chose the Jasmine fragrance for two reasons, it has a beautiful scent, and it is my sister's name. Although, when reading this, it does not sound like much of a week. It was much more draining than any of my weeks. It came with positives, but it has its side effects. Right now, it is all about living in the moment, and hoping I can get all of this done. I also still have no idea if I got selected for the Honor Society, yet. I am like a bucket of worry. Familiar Place:
It is Saturday, September 27, 2014, and the day is beautiful and sunny. I am standing at the front of my house. I just came home from the library, I had gone there to get two books for my college and high school book groups, which I am a part of. I have to climb the first and second staircase before I reach the porch. the porch is painted red on the ground, there are two entrances, but we still have not figured out how to access the second entrance on the porch. I pull out my keys and unlock my door. I walk into the hallway before the staircase that goes to the second floor. There is a heater behind the door which has a clear glass key dish. I place my keys in the dish. The place is really quiet and there are no cats to be seen. I walk to the left through the dining room to the kitchen. The kitchen has counter and cabinets lining the left side up to the fridge which is beside the windows which shows a backyard view. It also shows the view to my neighbor's backyard, whom I hate. As I walk to the fridge, I check out the window to see if she is home. I sigh, "Great, her roommate is home. God!" I open the freezer to the fridge and there is a Go-Gurt box on the top shelf, I grab a cotton candy Go-Gurt, pass through the dining room to the entrance hallway and up the stairs with my two books in hand. I reach the upstairs hallway, there are four rooms and a bathroom. Straight ahead is the bathroom, my room is on the left side beside the bathroom, my parent's room is on the right side beside the bathroom, my sister's room is next to my parent's room, and the home office is next to my room with a door that connects to mine. The bathroom, my parent's room, and my room face the front of the house, and my sister's and the home office face the backyard. I walk into my room and leave the door open. Since the day is bright, I do not need to open the light. As I enter, my cat, Tomette sees me and gets up and meow hollers at me. "Meow! Meow! Meow! Meeeeeeow!" I pick her up and toss her onto my shoulder and give her cuddles. "My little chicken!" She reminds me of a chicken so much. I place her back into her brown bowl like bed, and place my books onto the night table beside my bed. My room is purple, and my bed is the opposite corner of the entrance to my room. There is a night table to the left of my bed, based on the view I am looking from. There is one bookshelf on the left side of the room(the corner parallel to the entrance, also where the connecting door is), and there is another bookshelf beside the closet door, which is to the right side of the entrance. I have a dresser in between the closet area and the entrance and another dresser in between the connecting door and the entrance. I walk over to my bed and sit upright to open my college book group's book, "Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore," and begin to read. Strange Place: I am sitting on the step of my porch, drinking a cup of coffee. It is painted red. The day is Saturday, September 27, 2014. It is a gorgeous day, I am debating in my head on taking a walk. My phone rings, and I notice that the number is the library's. I pick up. "Hello!" "Hello, is Melanie available?" "Yes, speaking." "Yes, I just wanted to inform you that your high school book club meeting is on Friday, and your book is available." "Oh, I did not know. Thank you, I will stop by shortly to get my book." "Okay, thank you, goodbye." "Byebye!" I panic, "Oh my God. I completely forgot. If the high school book club meeting is on Friday, that means the college book club meeting is on Thursday. Shoot!" I go inside my house, through the entrance hallway, up to my bedroom which is on the left, beside the bathroom. I grab my purse, run out and down the stairs. I am in the entrance hallway once again, and I grab my keys from the clear glass dish on the heater behind the entrance door. I lock up, go down the porch stairs and down the second set of steps. I walk straight up my street, all the way to State road. The streetlights to cross are a distance if I go right and a distance if I go left. Although it is illegal, it is much easier to just walk when no cars are passing. I get my chance, run across quickly, and walk up the drive way of a funeral home. I do not know if people even use that place anymore, even though I've lived here for 11 years. I reach a field of grass which is the side of the library, I walk for a few minutes until I finally reach the entrance of the adult library. If I turn right, there is the entrance to the children's library, which I decide will be my next stop to pick up my high school book group's book. I go straight to the second entrance of the adult library, and as I enter, there are restrooms on the right side with a water fountain. On the left, there is a little literature rack, which is free to read without a library card. Most of those books are just cheap romance novels. As I continue to walk in, I see the side desk which advertises knitting for the less fortunate, or bingo night for the elderly. I reach the desk for drop offs, which is just before the bar that counts the people that enter into the library. The lady who runs the group walks up to me. "Hello, how may I help you?" I stare at her, a little embarrassed because the last few book groups, I did not attend. In my mind I am criticizing myself as to what she must be thinking. She probably thinks I will not attend this one either. Each time, I could not attend because of some travel I had to do. This one, I am sure I will attend. My face probably turns red as some words finally come out, "Sorry I could not attend the last meeting, I ended up having a little emergency and had to go out of town. I am here to pick up the book for the book group." "Your name is Melanie Rao?" "Yes." She goes to the back storage room and gets the book I have to read, Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore." "The book group meeting is Thursday next week." "Thank you very much, I will see you there. Byebye!" "Bye!" I turn to walk out of the adult library entrance. I turn left, I take a look at the cork board with postings, like Chess Club. "Who am I kidding, I couldn't play chess if it could save my life." I turn to the children's library entrance and enter. As I walk in, there are book shelves full of juvenile books for children in their middle school years. On the left, plenty of encyclopedias. I walk up to the desk and speak to the lady. "Hello, I am here to pick up the high school book group's book." "What is your name?" "Melanie Rao." "Okay, just one second." As she goes to look through the shelves of books, I look at the tray on the desk that has all the programs that will be at the library. I grab a sheet, there is a gaming club and some other activities that I would not be able to attend. I put the sheet back in the tray, and grab a free paper bookmark, it is dark with some cartoon character and some books to read. She returns with the book and says, "Here is The Leviathan, and book group meeting is on Friday." "Okay, thank you. See you then! Byebye!" "Bye!" I walk out of the entrance to the center of the children's library which is beside the staircase. Once I reach outside, I mumble to myself, "How could I have forgotten? How will I read two huge books with all the assigned homework I get, by next week?" I sigh... In class, the week of September 15, 2014, we discussed the topic of child abuse. We watched a video of Charles Barkley explaining his views on child abuse. We also viewed the pictures of the NFL player from the Vikings who physically abused his child. Those photos were a disgrace to see. I could NEVER imagine myself hitting my child like that, ever. Since this is my blog, I think I can state my opinion, but I view discipline as a parent's control, unless it gets out of hand. In the case of the NFL player, I disapprove. If I did have a child, I would have, at the most, gave a little pop on the leg to give a shock. I would never pop him to hurt him. Growing up, I was raised in the same respect that I believe in. Around me was a different story. I remember having a neighbor who had anger issues and had child services coming constantly. To punish her son, she would beat him to a limping state. As we speak, she is put away.
We also discussed the literature text, "Bird-by-Bird." That text was really inspiring, especially that I am not a very good writer. I just need to spit out all my thoughts, and go through it to see if there is anything that could be used for an exceptional narrative. I really enjoyed doing the storyboard activity, it felt involving. Sadly, I get nervous about the whole group thing, but it's good to push out of that shell. Lastly, we were given an extra week to look over our Weebly. My only issue was getting an image that would blend with the text surrounding. I had NO idea how to do that. I did not even have to ask about it, but as Mr. Mangini was going over the Weebly site introduction one last time, I got my answer! I was so glad, because I have the question and at the end of class, I forget my questions and remember the class. I am enjoying going to class more though. Onto my personal life, I had a rough week. Monday and Tuesdays are pretty much my worst days for motivation after a weekend. The rest of the week is a breeze. I ended up finishing 4 tests and 2 projects just in my high school classes. Each day just flew by, and then the weekend hit. A few months back in April, my cousin came down from India and got married. It wasn't a ceremony, but it was just the certificate. Last weekend, she did her wedding reception, and she never contacted us, let alone informed us, of her marriage. What can you say though? Family is so intricate. During the week, mind you, my thoughts are not structured, I was attending my Psychology class in high school. I am in a virtual charter homeschool sort of system, and when we attend class, we have recorded sessions. In Psychology, we are to write a journal based on the question our teacher has for us on that day. I enjoy it. On Facebook, this one girl from that class asks me for the journal entries from the previous classes. Of course, I give her those entries out of the kindness of my heart. I just think it is kind of sad that she never contacted me except when she needed me. Especially, when she could just go through the recording to get them or ask the teacher. It is a very simple process. The conversation is below: Mia: do you have the journal from monday and yesterday lol Melanie: Yes, do you? Mia: i couldnt get to class on monday Mia: and yesterday my computer didnt save it Melanie: Okay, is it okay if I give it after class? Mia: yes Mia: thanks Melanie: No problem Melanie: For Monday Mia: yesssss Melanie: Identify and describe the contributions of Plato, Aristotle, and Hippocrates. Melanie: For Tuesday Melanie: Do you agree with John B. Watson, that a child can be trained to become a doctor, lawyer, or any other specialist? Explain your answer. Mia: thank you so so much Mia: xoxoxoxo Melanie: No problem :) My responses were a little cold, but I have not heard from her to attempt any sort of relationship(not the love kind). I am exaggerating a little bit here, BUT THE LACK OF FORMAL ENGLISH. My eyes are close to auto-combustion reading through that again. In my Psychology class, we usually get daily quotes, and I was really amused by this quote by Agnes Repplier. The quote is, "It is not easy to find happiness in ourselves, and it is not possible to find it elsewhere." I found this interesting because I sometimes tend to be unhappy with my life, and when I go around looking for something to make me happy, it is not really going to help me. At the end of the day, it is my choice on how I look at things that happen. It was inspiring, and something I will use especially when I hit rough times. I also got a friend of mine to start a blog about their daily life which I will probably link onto my site. This person is really cool and tries to watch out for me since they are 3 years older than I am. I had a really long week, and I hope the next week is simmered a bit, or I do not think the holidays will even be enough time to relax. Lastly, I am stressing about my GPA in high school, because an error in the system is claiming I failed courses I did not even take. I just hope it does not deny my ability to join The Honor Society. What a week! It is a beautiful day outside my window as I sit in Starbucks drinking my Mocha Chip Frappucino. I am sitting with three very important writers to discuss their writing processes. The first writer is, Carolyn Chute, with her text, "How Can You Create Fiction When Reality Comes to Call." The second writer is, Anne Lamott, with her text. "Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life." The last writer I have with me, but not the least, is Ray Bradbury with his text, "Zen in the Art of Writing." They all look amazing!
Melanie: To start, I would like to thank all of you for coming to talk to me. Anne, you were discussing about the one-inch picture frame that you pick up, would you like to explain that to me? Anne: So after I've completely exhausted myself thinking about the people I most resent in the world, and my more arresting financial problems, and, of course, the orthodontia, I remember to pick up the one-inch picture frame and to figure out a one-inch piece of my story to tell, one small scene, one memory, one exchange. I also remember a story that I know I've told elsewhere but that over and over helps me to get a grip: thirty years ago my older brother, who was ten years old at the time, was trying to get a report on birds written that he'd had three months to write, which was due the next day. We were out at our family cabin in Bolinas, and he was at the kitchen table close to tears, surrounded by binder paper and pencils and unopened books on birds, immobilized by the hugeness of the task ahead. Then my father sat down beside him, put his arm around my brother's shoulder, and said, "Bird by bird, buddy. Just take it bird by bird." Ray: What can we writers learn from lizards, lift from birds? In quickness is truth. The faster you blurt, the more swiftly you write, the more honest you are. Carolyn: You see, I can't just switch from life mode to writer mode. Usually it takes three days to get into the writer mode. Three days of quiet non-life mode, lots of coffee and no interruptions. Ray: How do you commence to start to begin an almost new kind of writing, to terrify and scare? You stumble into it, mostly. You don't know what you're doing, and suddenly, it's done. You don't set out to reform a certain kind of writing. It evolves out of your own life and night scares. Suddenly you look around and see that you have done something almost fresh.6. Caroline: Writing is like meditation or going into an ESP trance, or prayer. Like dreaming. You are tapping into your unconscious. To be fully conscious and alert, with life banging and popping and cuckooing all around, you are not going to find your way to your subconscious, which is a place of complete submission. Melanie: That is very understood. It is effortless as long as you do not set your mind to it. You simply can not pressure yourself. What is your take on that, Anne? Anne: Even after I'd been doing this for years, panic would set in. I'd try to write a lead, but instead I'd write a couple of dreadful sentences, xx them out, try again, xx everything out, and then feel despair and worry settle on my chest like an x-ray apron. It's over, I'd think, calmly. I'm not going to be able to get the magic to work this time. I'm ruined. I'm through. I'm toast. Maybe, I'd think, I can get my old job back as a clerk-typist. But probably not. I'd get up and study my teeth in the mirror for a while. Then I'd stop, remember to breath, make a few phone calls, hit the kitchen and chow down. Eventually I'd go back and sit down at my desk, and sign for the next ten minutes. Finally I would pick up my one-inch picture frame, stare into it as if for the answer, and every time the answer would come: all I had to do was to write a really shitty first draft of, say, the opening paragraph. And no one was going to see it. Melanie: That is very interesting! You have to calm down. When you are finished, what do you do? What is the result? Anne: The next day though, I'd sit down, go through it all with a colored pen. Melanie: Ray, you had mentioned something similar to that. Ray: I realized I had at last written a really fine story. The first, in ten years of writing. And not only was it a fine story, but it was some sort of hybrid, something verging on the new. Melanie: That is a long time! What about for you Carolyn? It must take a while to get ideas, and put them on a typewriter, especially when you mess up and have to retype it? Carolyn: I laugh. Typewriter is starting to gasp and moan. Melanie: Hahah, the typewriter sounds like it misses you! When you have something to write, what do you do? Carolyn: I start back up the attic stairs to the gasping weeping typewriter, and husband arrives home with mail. Melanie: Wow, that is funny! Reality always has its disturbances. It was nice talking to all three of you! During my second week of school, I was really excited to get started on learning some materials, instead of going over the technology (which we did in every high school class). I was also excited to open my blog for college, as it would open a gate for something inspirational. I attended all my high school classes for the week, still learning our never-ending technology lessons... On Tuesday, I was really excited to go to my college class. On Thursday of the previous week, I was not able to attend class due to a family emergency, but I made sure to get my assignments. I ended up procrastinating to the last hour before I read my assigned reading, "Bird by Bird." I read it in less than 20 minutes though. Due to traffic, I was a few minutes late, luckily I did not miss anything. In the college class, we opened our Weebly site. I really found the Weebly site fascinating, especially that there was no coding involved. I had yet to get to the coding on my Tumblr (not a hard task, just takes time - not done). After class, I came home and crashed until about 9:30 PM. I woke up and finished up some assignments I was assigned. I did not sleep till about 4 AM and woke up at 6AM. The whole day was hectic. One aspect of that day, was motivating. I had received a compliment from my Chemistry teacher. I finished up a unit of my Chemistry course without any tutoring, and as it is a self pace course, I do not receive any mentoring but managed to ace all my points. Thursday came by fast, and I was on a rat race again. At 3 PM, as usual, I left to go to my college class, and got there 15 minutes early. I even read the two readings on my way there (last minute again). Class was a ton of fun, but I spent a lot of time fooling around because I had edited my Weebly site quite a bit earlier in the day, and any changes necessary were on my laptop at home(pictures). Friday went by as a breeze, and I was glad to have the weekend.
On Saturday, I cleaned the fridge and my fish tank and Betta bowl. I also found out Macy's wanted to bring me in for an interview for a job that goes from 2 PM -11 PM. Rather than turn it down, I will go to the interview anyways, but my schedule as changed drastically. I also got an email from a lyrical dance group looking for 2 dancers and holding auditions. I did not go to the first audition that was held the Sunday prior because I did not expect anything, especially that I have not danced for 7 years. Although my dancing is pretty rusty, I figured why not go for this audition since they are paying per a performance, and I really need the money for my next semester's college course. Sunday was a long day, I mowed the lawn with my mom and trimmed the rose bushes. It is now Monday, and the day was really short. My favorite high school class was French, because I have been meaning to brush up on my speaking (other than the swears). As it is, it is 1:03 AM (technically it is Tuesday the 16th), and I just got to writing this reflection for my college class. Altogether, in about 15 hours, I will be at my favorite class this semester(hence, I wrote over double what is expected of me). I cannot wait. "Smile" by Charlie Chaplin Lyrics
Smile though your heart is aching Smile even though it's breaking. When there are clouds in the sky you'll get by. If you smile through your fear and sorrow Smile and maybe tomorrow You'll see the sun come shining through For you. Light up your face with gladness, Hide every trace of sadness. Although a tear may be ever so near That's the time you must keep on trying Smile, what's the use of crying. You'll find that life is still worthwhile- If you just smile. That's the time you must keep on trying Smile, what's the use of crying. You'll find that life is still worthwhile- If you just smile. Why I chose this song... I chose the song, "Smile" by Charlie Chaplin. I chose this song to present my identity because through all the bad times I kept a happy face on. Starting from when I was 11, my paternal grandmother died in India, and it came as a big shock as it was unexpected. A year later, in 2008, we were hearing on the news about the economy plummeting, and that same day my dad lost his job. For two years he was jobless, and everyday it was stressful worrying about how we were going to survive through it all. The following year, in 2009, my aunt caught meningitis and died about three weeks later. Three days after her death, her son/my cousin committed suicide jumping out of the third floor of a hotel in India. Two months following that, in December, my maternal grandmother had broken her hip. We immediately rushed there to see her. In preparation for her surgery, they located a spot on her lung which we later found out was cancer. Since I was still in school, we had to return home. Upon arrival, about a week later we found out that my uncle had suffered a heart attack in which he passed away. My dad had to immediately rush to India to prepare the funeral. Since my dad was still unemployed, we had to stay behind. He was gone for a month. By this time, I was unable to concentrate on my school work, and I began to fall behind. Later on at the end of May in 2010, we had left to see my maternal grandmother, as she took a turn for the worst. Three weeks after we arrived, the hospital diagnosed her with terminal stage cancer and she passed away two weeks after the diagnosis. During that time, it was really hectic. We had to prepare for a funeral, and my grades went down further to the point my school wanted to expel me instead of helping me get through these times. At that point, I felt that the drama was so unbelievable and unreal. For two years, I felt depressed and unable to pick myself up. I would smile, but it felt fake, but I had to keep going, because sooner or later things had to get better. Although I am doing a lot better, at times things still happen which bring up the memories from the past, but I know if I smile and keep a positive attitude, I will be okay knowing that I've dealt with much worse. |
AuthorMy name is Melanie, and I am 18 years old. I am majoring in Business Administration, and this is my blog for English Composition I at the Delaware County Community College. Archives
December 2014
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