Respond to "Little Things"--by Ramond Carver

On the one hand, the narrative is about a couple’s breakup and their fight over the baby. You get the feeling that this couple has been fighting for a long time and that there's no hope for them. The man cannot stay in the house any more. Even though the woman is fed up with it, you can tell from her tears she is very upset that he is finally leaving. Of course, right before he leaves, the man fights with the woman over who gets take the child. They end up hurting their child from all the pulling. The baby is actually torn in half in the end.
But on the other hand, the author is really talking about how we can become so self-absorbed, only thinking about what we want, not thinking about how our choices will affect others. Sometimes we don’t realize how much the “little things” in life mean to us. The couple’s baby was their one “little thing”, but also their main reason for the final dispute.

Respond to Susan Wittig Albert

As we reveal ourselves in story, we become aware of the continuing core of our lives under the fragmented surface of our experience. We become aware of the multifaceted, multichaptered "I" who is the storyteller. We can trace out the paradoxical and even contradictory versions of ourselves that we create for different occasions, different audiences...Most important, as we become aware of ourselves as storytellers, we realize that what we understand and imagine about ourselves is a story. --Susan Wittig Albert


When I first read this quote, the part that stuck out to me was that we craft different versions of ourselves that are saved for special people and occasions. It’s something that everybody does but we never realize it. We also don’t write about it, since it seems that we may not be truthful at all times. But that’s not true. We’re just not the same with everyone we’ve encountered in our lives. Each person has their own place in our lives.
But now that I read this quote a second time, I realized that as I started writing more, there are a lot of memories and experiences that resurfaced. I guess this is what she means when she says, “…we become aware of the continuing core of our lives under the fragmented surface of our experience. We become aware of the multifaceted, multichaptered "I" who is the storyteller.” We all have so many layers that make us as a whole. These layers are our life experiences and recollections. I usually blank out on a writing assignment, but as I force myself to type, all my memoirs start to come back to me. I am now aware of how much I could write about, and that there’s no ending. As one experience is typed, another comes right after it. But I still struggle with putting all these memories and episodes on paper and detailing them, transforming them into stories that people can “see”.
Each of us is one main idea, with separate mini chapters stretching out, that sometimes stray from the story. But the difference between our life stories and the regular paperbacks is that there is no editing.

Reaching the 5 Milestones

The 5 milestones discussed in NY Times article are: leaving your parents’ house, finishing education, becoming financially stable, getting married, and having children. This is what people finish doing by the end of their twenties. Or at least, this is what the article says that people used to do. Where do I fit in? I’m not sure yet, but I definitely want to finish school by my early 20s. I also want to be in a good financial position so I can finally move out and get my own apartment in SoHo. Maybe I’ll get married by the mid to late 20s but that’s not a top priority. The main milestones that I want to meet in about 5 years are to finish school and get a job. I have my student loans to worry about once I graduate and I think that this is one milestone they forgot to mention in the article.

Childhood Memory – The Dreaded Hair Scrunchies

My best memories are the ones from my childhood. The ones from before I moved to this country. Not that I don’t have any wonderful memories from living in New York, but the things that stuck are from years ago, when my family and I were still living in Egypt. We lived in a first-floor apartment that overlooked a railroad. Our apartment was very spacious and I remember it perfectly, even though I moved away when I was only 7 years old. But what I remember the most was the mini arguments I would get into with my mom every morning.
When I was a toddler, my mom kept my hair short. Even though it was very short, my mom was still able to put it in a ponytail. My hair was never straight, always curly and unruly. So my mom would decide to put it in two ponytails, one on each side of my head. Since it was short and curly, those side ponytails always looked like mini puffs, sticking out from the sides of my head. On most young girls, this looks cute. On me, it was just horrible. I hated it. I hated having any type of bands or scrunchies in my hair. I like it being huge, with its coiled curls sticking out everywhere. I looked crazy, but that’s how I liked to look when I was 6 years old.
Wherever we would be going, my mom would get me ready the same way every time I would leave the house. She’d go to my closet and pick out an outfit for the day. She’d then sit on her bed and have me stand in front of her. The bed was in the center of the room, with the door to the left of it. Right behind the head board of the bed, was a top window that overlooked the side street. On the right side of the bed was a pair of glass doors that opened into our balcony. So I would stand in front of her and she would help me put on my clothes. She’d then part my hair down the back and comb it into the mini side puffs she thought were normal ponytails. What makes this a memory though, is what I used to do with those hair scrunchies after my mom finished fastening my hair with them.
My neighbor next door had a dog that I loved playing with. So after my mom would get me dressed, she’d go to get herself ready. During that time, my dad would take me downstairs to hang out with our neighbor, the one with the dog, while my mom and siblings got ready. I loved that dog. At that age, I had no idea what kind of dog it is but he was huge. He had scruffy black fur that stood up on all ends. Kinda like my hair. We were also the same height. He had pointed ears and small black eyes. He was also very skinny, his owner hardly fed him. He had no name, he was just called ‘the dog’. Even though I was terrified of that dog, we had a great connection and I was always excited to go see him. He also was the one who covered up my lies. Whenever I get upset or mad at upset at something, I’d rip the scrunchies out of my hair while running my hands through it to fluff it up. I’d then feed the dog my scrunchies. I’d just put them in the palm of my hand and hold it out towards his mouth. He ate them. He was the first dog I’d encountered at 6 six years old so I thought that was normal. Once my mom saw me, she would ask me,
“Where did your hair bands go?!”
“I gave them to the dog next door because he was hungry.”
Of course, she would tell me not to do that anymore, otherwise she’ll stop getting me my colorful hair scrunchies. ‘Perfect’, I would think. But alas, my hair would get too wild for me to go out in public so my mom would put me in my mini puffs. If someone upset me, I’d give them to the dog.
I was so saddened months later when the dog was accidently shot. I remember waking up from his painful crying that night. I realized I had no one to give my hair scrunchies to anymore.
Twelve years later, I’m finally over my hatred of hair bands. My mom and I still remember that dog and all the scrunchies I gave him.

DESCRIBE SOMEONE WHO IS WAITING FOR SOMETHING ANXIOSULY

I’m tapping my right foot, chewing at my nails. My eyes dart back and forth to the clock, with an angry expression, why can’t it tick any faster? The moment is no longer 60 seconds, but much more. I get up and start pacing back and forth, pulling at the long sleeves of my shirt. I start running my hands through my hair, while stealing a peek at the clock at the top right hand corner of the blank white wall. Only 2 minutes have passed. I decided to go sit down again, in those uncomfortable rectangular chairs found in every hospital. How can people spend the night in them? The sounds and beeps of the machines are anything but soothing, constantly reminding you of where you are. It’s cold, and silent, the type of silence that will drive you mad. 1 minute has gone by. You think the clock stopped working since you no longer hear its ticking. But as I jerk my head up and take a look, I realize I’m wrong. It’s working perfectly. Almost as if it’s testing my patience, knowing that I have none. It’s the middle of the night and everyone in the rooms next door is sleeping. I’m the only one awake, pacing back and forth. I can’t imagine that I’ve only been here for an hour, yet it feels as if I woke up here.

PROFILE 9/22

Some profiles might be about interesting people, people who have done great things in their lives or helped find solutions to global problems. But the profile I will write is not about any famous person who has made amazing discoveries. It’s about a very normal person, my best friend, Jess. We’ve been the closest of best friends as best friends can get since the 5th grade. When they say opposites attract, they don’t only mean in a man-and-woman relationship. It’s also true for friendships. If Jess was the same as me, we would not have lasted as friends for long. She is a cheery, people-loving, outgoing person. The complete opposite of me. Jess sees the good in people and has no reason to not trust people. In my case, I have to test you to see if I can trust you. Not that I automatically assume the worst in people but I know that we’re not all genuinely good. She is a very social person who is always at every large gathering or hang-out. I always preferred spending time with a smaller group rather than going to parties every weekend. Jess is the one that keeps me sane, as cliché as that sounds. I’m the person that freaks out the fastest when something goes wrong. So Jess is there to tell me that it’ll all work out in the end and all my problems will be solved. It may seem like it’s no big deal but for me, it is. To have someone bring me down back to Earth and tell me that it’s not the end of the world, means a lot to me. Even if I have to be lied to. If I did something stupid and I know I’m in trouble, Jess will tell me to relax and not to worry about it. She’ll say, “What’s the worst that could happen?” She probably knows that it won’t be as easy as she makes it to be, but she will say it anyway just so I don’t have a panic attack. For someone who doesn’t know me and is just reading or listening to this, you may not understand how much that can mean to a person. But if you’re someone who is grateful for the sense of security, you’ll realize how important it is to have a person you’re close to tell you everything will be fine in the end. Some people these days take their carefree days and peace of mind for granted. They won’t understand how essential those elements are until they lose them.
I like to plan things and have a schedule to go by every day. I can’t do things last minute and I just don’t “go with the flow”. Jess, on the other hand, will take the day as it comes. She is way more carefree than I am and I wish I was a bit like her. She hardly complains and is an extremely fair person. She is very loyal, which is one of the most important reasons we are incredibly close. We have completely different tastes in everything. Whether it’s guys, clothes, shoes, food, music, or school subjects, we’ll have opposite opinions. It’s really a wonder that we get along.
Jess is a simple person, one who is not crazy about designer clothes or expensive jewelry. She is not a materialistic person whatsoever. I don’t have to act a certain way when we’re out so it’s definitely relaxing when I spend time with her. I remember times where we would just bum around on 86th Street in Bay Ridge and enjoy delicious burgers from Five Guys. That place really does have the best burgers. We’d then go to the movie theater and watch either some sappy romantic comedy or a really scary movie that won’t make us fall asleep at night. After that, we’ll go and stuff our faces with the most incredible ice cream in the world, located at Cold Stone Creamery. Even though there were other friends of mine that will be out at a party Friday nights, I always had the most fun going out with Jess and a few other people and just chilling out in boring places. We were able to make our own fun.
I am definitely grateful that I met my best friend at such a young age. I probably would’ve made stupider choices if I listened to myself constantly. It’s always a good idea to listen to someone’s advice besides your own, especially if that person has a different perspective from yours. Having someone who you can talk to about anything and everything is something to cherish. Good friends that will last don’t come along everyday so it’s important to know when to catch them. :)

9/20/10 FREE-WRITE EXTREME EMOTIONS

It’s the worst feeling in the world, when the seconds are ticking by and you don’t know what to do or where to go. Your heart is beating so fast, it literally hurts. You think it will explode sooner or later, like a pressure cooker when the button is not pressed to release the steam. It almost makes you want to put your palm to your chest to make sure your heart stays there. The blood starts pounding in your ears so loud. You actually begin to think your heart beat somehow jumped to your eardrum. Your face is pale but you feel as if it’s on fire, as if all the blood in your body traveled into your face. A hollow feeling stars to take place in your stomach. There’s this ache in your throat and your voice is a pitch higher. The adrenaline starts to pump through your veins and you’re ready to take off. You feel as if you can run forever.

Chronicles of an American Execution - Dan Barry

I really think that the author did a brilliant job of describing Mr. Holton's execution. He wrote in such a neutral manner, that can almost be perceived as a bit cold by some readers. But it was an excellent way of not trying to persuade the readers to think in a specific way. He didn't give his opinion on what he thinks of the death penalty or what he thinks of Mr. Holton's execution. He gave the cold, hard facts. He was so descriptive, that I actually was able to see what was happening, detail by detail. I could see Mr. Holton hyperventilating, as well as feel how somber it must've been in that room. I can see the wardens wiping his scalp with the wet sponge and the water trickling down his face, running underneath his shirt. I can imagine the 1,750 volts hitting Mr. Holton's body, jerking it and bringing it down like "a sack of earth". Dan Barry's writing was outstanding, his neutral way of describing this grave event gave the reader such a clear view of what happened, almost as if we were there.

SHOW - DON'T TELL

I never knew how cold it can get in Upstate New York. It is the middle of December and my friends and I are on our high school senior trip. We were staying at some type of cowboy’s hotel that I actually felt we were somewhere in the west. The area was completely deserted so it was a wonder that the bus driver was able to navigate his way through the pitch black roads. Once in a while, you’d see a dark green sign on the side of the road and by the time you read it, you would have already missed the exit. I can never imagine living in a no-man’s land like that.
I stayed with five of my closest friends in a room, sharing one bathroom. It wasn’t as bad as we thought it would be. The trip was 3 days and it was so lame since there really was nothing to do. We tried to play laser tag one day but the equipment was so old, it could not function right. It was insanely cold, the type of cold where you feel your fingers are about to fall off. The second day my friends and I decided to take a walk outside and hang around. I have been with this group of friends since the sixth grade so we are all incredibly close to each other. It was a bittersweet trip because it was the first time we all spent the weekend together, but it was the last time we’d all be going to the same school. None of us wanted to think about that so we all tried to focus on having as much fun as possible in this lame place our school put us in.
We all woke up in the morning and ate a breakfast that we didn’t have to question the contents of. That was something we were thankful for. Then we wore our many layers since we planned on spending the rest of the day outside in the cold. As you step through the doors, all you see is white everywhere. The sky is that pale blue, the type of blue that tells you it’s freakin’ cold out, and completely cloudless. The sun is there but it’s not doing much work. It's very bright causing the snow to sparkle like millions of tiny diamonds scattered all over the ground, covering it fully. It’s completely quiet and every once in a while, that silence is broken by a laugh from one of us. Even though we were all in boots, I remember holding on to my friend Connie’s arm because it was so hard to walk on the layers of ice. We finally got to the top of the hill where the snow tubing was going on. We all took our turns sitting down in the tube and being pushed down a white hill of snow while screaming at the top of our lungs. When I slid down the hill, I didn’t know how to push myself out of the tube. I must’ve voiced my question out loud since some wise guy yelled out, “It’s called using your feet!” Well, who would’ve thought of that… What would happen to this world without these geniuses? The four of us repeated this over and over again. A few hours later, as we were walking down the hill back to the hotel, some guy came up to us and asked if we would like to take a picture. So we did. We stood next each other, arms around the person on each side of us. We put on goofy smiles that were so big, we thought our faces will freeze in that position due to the ridiculously cold weather. We are on the slippery white hill, with bare trees behind us and nothing else. I remember that day perfectly, and every time I look at the picture, all the sounds of our laughter come rushing back to me. It’s a plain picture, with no scenery and no colors. But there was really no need to stand in front a beautiful mountain or an iconic statue. The four of us were enough to get the point across.
Even though the trip was so lame and the food was not restaurant quality, it was a time that will forever be embedded in my memory. We are separated in different colleges now, but each one of us has that same picture.

Free Write 9/16

MUSTARD TIGER – describe as if it was an insult
-yellow
-slick
- fast
-sour
-striped
-fierce
Imagine calling somebody a “mustard tiger”. What would that mean? Well, for the mustard it would be yellow and sour and slick, never sweet. For the tiger, it would be mischievous, striped, fierce. Someone you cannot trust.

CHEESEBURGER LOCKER
-gooey
-stale
-metal
-meat
-brown
-old
-rusty
-greasy
A cheeseburger locker must be an old and stale person. They are greasy, with oily hair, very sweaty.


FRIDA KAHLO "ROOTS"

She is in desolation, lying on her side on the dry and cracked, tan soil. She has given up, losing the ability to control herself. It is empty all around her, no soil, no plants, no life. She is the only hope for this land. The sky is blue and unfilled. As she rests her elbow on a white fluffy pillow, her bright orange dress is a sign of optimism, giving birth to expectations and wishes. She is a hallow vessel, with green leafy vines sprouting out of her. She is the Woman of this land, as well as the beginning. She will become the basis of prosperity and wealth. She knows she has to sacrifice herself and is willing to do so. As she puts her head in her palm, she is waiting for what will come of her. She is full of wisdom, a gift for a soulless land. She will become the roots of a land so vast, full of promising riches.



The man and woman are sitting on top of the world, with heaven and hell at their hands. The man is curious about the woman, sitting across from her, with only a chess table separating them. He is hunched on his feet, fully clothed, peering at her intently. The woman is sitting with perfect posture, naked, holding a delicious apple in the palm of her hands. Her eyes are closed, but it is very easy to see that she is full of confidence and knows what kind of feminine power she has on this man. She is the essence of indulgence. She might be beautiful, with the wings of an angel. But it’s not hard to see the horns on the green and blue helmet on top of her head. She is holding his fate in her hands. The darkness is behind her, not much promises.

Gender Expectations 9/13

We are told at a young age that we can grow up to be whatever we want to be. But at the same time, it is an unspoken rule that each gender has its own set of expectations and roles. Guys are supposed to get a decent degree as well as a job so they can financially support their future families. Girls are also told that they should go after their dreams and become doctors or lawyers or any of those wonderful professions. But they are also expected to become loyal wives and amazing mothers. In my culture, there is no such thing as choosing not to get married or have children. Both males and females are encouraged to go to college and continue on to graduate school. Guys are supposed to obtain a stable career because in the future, they will be supporters of a household. As a girl, I’m driven to have a successful career. But I also know that in the future, I will eventually have other responsibilities that come with the female package.
Since the beginning of my senior year in high school, I had to seriously start thinking about career choices. In my family, there is no such thing as graduating high school and not knowing what your major in college will be. The three best careers are a doctor, lawyers, or engineer. No surprise there. So I was always thinking of just me in the future. I don’t mean to sound selfish, but in my dreams and ambitions of the future, I automatically think of how my choices will affect only me. I was thinking about medical school but never really had the passion for it. My parents, of course, supported me all the way. As senior year went on, I started talking to everyone I know about my decision of going to a school that will prepare me for applying to medical school. Many people from school, my family, and my church told me to go for it. But so many others told me that I should start thinking about what I want from life and what I’m able to sacrifice. I remember having long phone conversations with mentors from church and older friends about how to balance becoming a doctor as well as being a wife and eventually a mother. That’s when it hit. Even though in this society both men and women have the same opportunities in the work field, our “natural” roles have not changed. I always knew that one day, I’ll probably have a family of my own. But I never really thought how that will be affected by my career choice. My cousins are all married and have kids of their own. I realized that even if I’m not thinking of that right now, I’ll want that have that someday. It does not mean that I’ll give up on my academic hopes. I was never too thrilled about spending so many years studying medicine anyway. I want to be able to have a job that I like but still have a life.
Our roles as both males and females will never change. We now all have the opportunity to go after the same careers and the same positions. But since the beginning of time, men are the head of the household and women are the nurturing mothers. It’s a natural instinct that most of us have had ever since we were toddlers.

Relationship to Gender - 9/13

I think whether we're guys or girls, there are some days when we think it would've been easier to be the opposite gender. I sometimes think that guys are so much more easier to deal with and they don't have to deal with conflicting emotions like we girls do. But then there are times when I look at my brothers and be thankful that i'm not in  their shoes. We both don't have it easy, and in this age, women have to be just as good as men in the workplace as well as other areas of life. Women have to do the same things as men as well as deal with other problems and responsibilities they face as being females. Even though it's not stated, girls are expected to grow up to be wives as well as mothers. Guys are the ones who have to be the head of a household and the supporters. We all have these "roles" installed in us from such a young age from our parents or our culture or from our religion.

“What Is It About 20-Somethings?” - NY Times Article

        This article made me realize that I’m not the only one who doesn’t know what to do with my life. Of course, I want to graduate from college on time and have a successful career like everyone else, but I feel that choosing a career at such a young age is a scary thing. I think that the 20s is a time to experiment and to finally settle on what you want to do for the rest of your life. Also, I feel that young people these days are pressured to gain higher degrees in order to be financially stable later on in their adulthood.
       So I completely agree that people are taking longer to grow up than they used to years ago. Why settle down and start a family when you believe there are so many opportunities out there? Professor Arnett states that the 20s is a time where we feel a “sense of possibilities” and I think that is true. As we begin our adulthood, nobody wants to think that our lives won’t turn out as what we fantasized them to be. We don’t know what will happen 10 or 20 years from now but it won’t be picture-perfect.
       Another important factor in this article is the influence of parents on their children. Many parents are what the article describes as “helicopter parents” – they’re always hovering over their children’s lives. We’ve all heard of or seen parents who simply refuse to let their kids go. So when young adults are finally “set fee”, the last thing on their mind is to go and settle down somewhere with a spouse and kids. As we reach the early 20s, we want to enjoy that time as much as we can before taking on the responsibilities that soon will arise.
       Even though I agree that some people want to put off facing adulthood as much as they can, another part of me thinks that there are many young people who are forced to grow up faster than others their age. In this article, scientists have studied that brains continue to mature until the age of 25. That doesn’t mean that all young adults can’t make informative decisions in their lives until that age. So in conclusion, just as there are people who can’t seem to grow up, there are many others who matured at a young age. It all depends on the experiences a person endures and their upbringing.