Dear Audience,
The Blogger Project has been an interesting experience for me; I hope it was for you too. Since the start of my blog I have written about everything from my opinions and stories to poetry and fiction. And to this date it has acquired a wide range of material. If you have enjoyed at least one or two of my pieces then my goal has been accomplished. If not, I’m sorry but my work here is done.
I hope that through this blog you have learned a little about me. At the very least you should have picked up on that I love deep snow, Halloween, my friends, my family, and the ocean. I also value creativity and the slightly odd. If you read “Nothing’s Happening” you would have also learned that I hate having nothing to do.
As a writer I avoid taking myself too seriously, because many of my best ideas come out of complete goofiness which I try to make sound serious. And that works for me; I guess that is “The Importance of Writing Badly.” I like everything I have posted; if I didn’t I would have changed it by now. And since I have picked every topic I have written about, you should have a fair idea of what I enjoy writing. By picking my own topics, I think this project has helped me to better etch out my identity as a writer.
I like the way the appearance of my blog turned out and it seems you do too. I have noticed that the template I picked has become very popular, but since I was the first to get my blog up and running and part of the -021 Café I feel that the rest are just copy cats. I consider it a compliment to my good taste, rather than a mark of non-individuality. I hope you will too. I like all the shades of pink and deep burgundy font. And I don’t plan to change it, unless I get completely sick of it some time in the near future.
I have personalized my blog’s template by changing the fonts and adding images, and I think it reflects me fairly well. I switched to an italic font a little while after starting my blog. I like it because it gives the implied feeling of being hand written. I feel that my page looks more personal this way. Plain text always seems a little cut, dry, and harsh, which is not something I want to reflect in my blog.
When I started this project I was actually concerned about what I would write about, but it was surprisingly easy. It was not very difficult at all to sit down and write once I got started, and our in class prompts always did that. I was also concerned about figuring out what all the codes meant; I still don’t know, but I learned that really don’t need to. At least I did not need to for this project. I have also learned some new genres of poetry and have experimented with them. In fact I have experimented with different genres a lot in this project.
I hope you found this project as interesting to read as it was for me to write, but now it is time to say good-bye to you, my loyal readers. I know it is a sad time for all of us. But this project has come to a close and I leave you now with my final piece from this project, the short story “Boot Soles.” This is the close, but do not fear. This is not really the end. It is only the end of a unit and the beginning of something else. And so good-bye to all my loyal fans, I hope you will read my written works again someday.
Mostly sincerely,
Melhouse
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Boot Soles
“Yahoooo!” yodeled Daniel as he shoved his foot against the hard, burgundy brick of the chimney. Snow chunks toppled loose around him as the kinetic energy of the shove mixed with gravities pull and he half flew, half slid down the roofline in an avalanche of snow. His sister rounded the corner trudging through the knee-high snow just in time to see him vanish into the blizzard of falling snow disturbed from the blanket of twinkling white snow on the roof.
“Daniel!” yelled his sister as she stumbled through high snow to the place where the black sole her brother’s coal colored boots was sticking out of the heap of snow that had just cascaded off the roof. Daniel laid winded for a moment unable to think or move. “Daniel,” she shrieked at him again, her voice sounded muffled through the snow. “Joan?” He asked thickly unable to think.
“Yah, you alright?” She questioned him. He moaned. “I fine,” he called and began to try to shovel away the heaps of snow surrounding his head with his hands, unsure which way was up. Truthfully he felt cold, dizzy, and numb to the world. But nothing seemed broken. “Can you get me out?” His sister’s mittened hands grappled with his boot and pulled. The boot flew off and slipped through her grasp, landing and vanishing with a swoosh into the snow a few feet away, sock and all, as she toppled over. “Ugh, the stupid boot, are you okay?” He kicked his now bare and freezing foot towards the sound of her voice and yelled a few choice curse words into the snow surrounding his head. She responded by tickling his foot.
Daniel kicked and squirmed as he floundered. His head finally broke the surface. “Joan! Get away, I’ll tell.” “You are such a cantaloupe head,” she retorted and crunched to her feet. “If anyone,” she stomped the snow off of her, “is going to tattle it will be me.” She stomped off through the snow past the place where his boot had vanished in the snow. “Besides,” she added with twinkling eyes, “with all you foibles, there will be a lot to tattle.”
“My foibles!” he shouted struggling to keep his bare foot out of the snow. “You’re the one with the foibles, you always foible fun, snow, and cantaloupes. You’re so foibled, you’re a foibler--”
“Am not,” she retorted she yanked the door open and it clanked shut behind her heel.
He carefully steped over to his boot on his now numb foot and gingerly, brushing the snow off, pulled it back on. He glanced up at the chimney, grey smoke curled out the top, and the traced the path he had made through the snow with his finger. Time for trial two.
“Daniel!” yelled his sister as she stumbled through high snow to the place where the black sole her brother’s coal colored boots was sticking out of the heap of snow that had just cascaded off the roof. Daniel laid winded for a moment unable to think or move. “Daniel,” she shrieked at him again, her voice sounded muffled through the snow. “Joan?” He asked thickly unable to think.
“Yah, you alright?” She questioned him. He moaned. “I fine,” he called and began to try to shovel away the heaps of snow surrounding his head with his hands, unsure which way was up. Truthfully he felt cold, dizzy, and numb to the world. But nothing seemed broken. “Can you get me out?” His sister’s mittened hands grappled with his boot and pulled. The boot flew off and slipped through her grasp, landing and vanishing with a swoosh into the snow a few feet away, sock and all, as she toppled over. “Ugh, the stupid boot, are you okay?” He kicked his now bare and freezing foot towards the sound of her voice and yelled a few choice curse words into the snow surrounding his head. She responded by tickling his foot.
Daniel kicked and squirmed as he floundered. His head finally broke the surface. “Joan! Get away, I’ll tell.” “You are such a cantaloupe head,” she retorted and crunched to her feet. “If anyone,” she stomped the snow off of her, “is going to tattle it will be me.” She stomped off through the snow past the place where his boot had vanished in the snow. “Besides,” she added with twinkling eyes, “with all you foibles, there will be a lot to tattle.”
“My foibles!” he shouted struggling to keep his bare foot out of the snow. “You’re the one with the foibles, you always foible fun, snow, and cantaloupes. You’re so foibled, you’re a foibler--”
“Am not,” she retorted she yanked the door open and it clanked shut behind her heel.
He carefully steped over to his boot on his now numb foot and gingerly, brushing the snow off, pulled it back on. He glanced up at the chimney, grey smoke curled out the top, and the traced the path he had made through the snow with his finger. Time for trial two.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Direct Democracy vs. Representatives, Finding the Balance
At this time next year, November 2008, I will be able to vote for a presidential candidate for the first time. But is there anyone worth voting for? There’s Hillary, that guy from law and order, the black guy, the September 11th guy, and a few other people hoping you’ll vote for them instead of Hillary. Oh Hillary, for some reason Hillary always reminds me of a less interesting version of Martha Stewart, but she can’t be any worse than Bush is. LOL I can’t believe these are the best candidates; maybe we should just not have a president and figure out a direct democracy.
In some ways having a direct democracy is impractical, because people aren’t going to want to vote about every little thing. But sometimes, like now, having a representative democracy is like have no democracy at all, especially when the representatives aren’t representing the popular beliefs. It is difficult to find the balance between giving the government enough power to operate effectively without giving the government so much power that it runs wild, trampling around out of control.
Like with Iraq, I think it is fair to say that the majority of Americans think we should leave now, change tactics, or at the very least avoid starting World War III. If America was really a democracy we could put it to a vote and get out of there. If America’s supreme power was really vested in the people, Bush (based on his approval rating) would not be president or would have had to change course by now. But, right now the people have no power. We are just left to wait and trust the government until the next election at which the Electoral College gets to choose between a Republican idiot or a Democrat idiot for our next president. Which, as they will undoubtedly both be idiots and our votes have no real power anyway, there is no reason to even bother voting. And if the people don’t vote our government is not “of the people, by the people, and for the people” as Abraham Lincoln put it in the Gettysburg address. And we are not a democracy.
Not to say that I think our government is completely crappy, because I like our government, it does have some good ideals and a few good people behind it. It’s just gotten too big (both in power and in the head). Our leaders make some stupid choices which lead to wasted money- sometimes wasted lives. It needs to be chiseled down to size and the power placed with the people. How to do that is beyond me, but here are a few places to start:
1. Get rid of the Electoral College
2. Let the general public have the main power
3. Run politics based on majority rule, not by whoever has the majority of the money. Make it equally possible for someone who is not rich or affiliated with a party to get elected. Put names on the ballet based on how many people they have backing them, not based on how much money they can get from corporations to spend on bashing their opponents
4. Get rid of Democrat/Republican parties
5. Have the government account for how it is spending the money it takes from the people, tax dollars. Spending changes should be voted on by the people and spending should be reassessed, voted on, every few years. Clear, Understandable, Precise, Public receipts should be kept on all spending. The government should have to spend the money the way the people voted on it to be spent and only spend money that they have, in other words no more/or limit national debt. It would also be great to make our paper money, the dollar, worth something again.
If you have read this far, thanks for reading! Feel free to comment and point out any holes in my logic. I’d like to read it.
In some ways having a direct democracy is impractical, because people aren’t going to want to vote about every little thing. But sometimes, like now, having a representative democracy is like have no democracy at all, especially when the representatives aren’t representing the popular beliefs. It is difficult to find the balance between giving the government enough power to operate effectively without giving the government so much power that it runs wild, trampling around out of control.
Like with Iraq, I think it is fair to say that the majority of Americans think we should leave now, change tactics, or at the very least avoid starting World War III. If America was really a democracy we could put it to a vote and get out of there. If America’s supreme power was really vested in the people, Bush (based on his approval rating) would not be president or would have had to change course by now. But, right now the people have no power. We are just left to wait and trust the government until the next election at which the Electoral College gets to choose between a Republican idiot or a Democrat idiot for our next president. Which, as they will undoubtedly both be idiots and our votes have no real power anyway, there is no reason to even bother voting. And if the people don’t vote our government is not “of the people, by the people, and for the people” as Abraham Lincoln put it in the Gettysburg address. And we are not a democracy.
Not to say that I think our government is completely crappy, because I like our government, it does have some good ideals and a few good people behind it. It’s just gotten too big (both in power and in the head). Our leaders make some stupid choices which lead to wasted money- sometimes wasted lives. It needs to be chiseled down to size and the power placed with the people. How to do that is beyond me, but here are a few places to start:
1. Get rid of the Electoral College
2. Let the general public have the main power
3. Run politics based on majority rule, not by whoever has the majority of the money. Make it equally possible for someone who is not rich or affiliated with a party to get elected. Put names on the ballet based on how many people they have backing them, not based on how much money they can get from corporations to spend on bashing their opponents
4. Get rid of Democrat/Republican parties
5. Have the government account for how it is spending the money it takes from the people, tax dollars. Spending changes should be voted on by the people and spending should be reassessed, voted on, every few years. Clear, Understandable, Precise, Public receipts should be kept on all spending. The government should have to spend the money the way the people voted on it to be spent and only spend money that they have, in other words no more/or limit national debt. It would also be great to make our paper money, the dollar, worth something again.
If you have read this far, thanks for reading! Feel free to comment and point out any holes in my logic. I’d like to read it.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Saturday, November 3, 2007
Halloween
Halloween is one of my favorite childhood memories. Nothing really compares to running through the freezing cold and fallen leaves, in the dark, dressed up, with friends, on a complete sugar high. It really is the people that make all the difference. It wouldn’t have been the same without everyone dressing up and going all out for the holiday.
Growing up I wouldn’t have traded Halloween for the world, it was the biggest party of the year. Every year, my best friend, her entire family, and most of my family would go all out, everyone dressed up, and go trick-or-treating together in Melba. We went to Melba because the candy is great, you can trick-or-treat the entire town and my friend’s grandma’s birthday is on Halloween, so to complete our sugar high we would go to her house afterwards for birthday cake.
Even though trick-or-treating is a thing of the past now, because I’m too “old.” I still love playing dress-up just as much as I did back then. I love messing with costumes, wigs, and theater make-up. If my major doesn’t work out, I think it would be a blast to learn how to do theater make-up for movies or something. It world be fun to work with monster masks, fake blood, and stuff like that.
Growing up I wouldn’t have traded Halloween for the world, it was the biggest party of the year. Every year, my best friend, her entire family, and most of my family would go all out, everyone dressed up, and go trick-or-treating together in Melba. We went to Melba because the candy is great, you can trick-or-treat the entire town and my friend’s grandma’s birthday is on Halloween, so to complete our sugar high we would go to her house afterwards for birthday cake.
Even though trick-or-treating is a thing of the past now, because I’m too “old.” I still love playing dress-up just as much as I did back then. I love messing with costumes, wigs, and theater make-up. If my major doesn’t work out, I think it would be a blast to learn how to do theater make-up for movies or something. It world be fun to work with monster masks, fake blood, and stuff like that.
Friday, November 2, 2007
A twisted Cookie
The air trembled as the subway train pulled up, my mother clinged to my hand crunching my fingers in her firm grasp.
“I could have been someone you know, aldi elaiefjdl iealfkeol,” my mother muttered. “I’d be a smart cookie then.”
She can speak two languages, English and one no one quite recognizes. When she was younger my mother would keep busy and paint in her free time; that was before the accident. Now she spends her days singing along loudly to borrowed opera records while stitching away at rose buds and tulips made of silk thread.
My mother remembers how to fix a T.V. for all the good it does her and she can sing her opera, but she can't remember which train to take to get downtown in the city she has lived in her whole life. Sometimes when she is more herself she lectures me about staying in school.
“Esperanza, you go to school,” she says, “and study hard.”
She blames the accident on her lack of education. My mother quit school to work as a seamstress in a factory. She had been there nearly a week when it happened, a sewing machine fell on her head, and she has never been the same since. It was at the factory that my mother had to give up her dream of being a famous opera singer.
“Esperanza,” my mother said softly relinquishing her grip on my aching fingers. “Do you want to know why I quit school?”
“No mother,” I thought to myself as I bit my tongue and waited for her to continue, “You have told me a million times already.”
“I didn’t have nice clothes!” My mother exclaimed, “If I had had nice clothes, I wouldn’t have quit, I was a smart cookie then.”
I fought hard to keep from smiling. My mother’s had always been the theater and fashion, never school. Even with 200 pairs of shoes, I knew my mother would never have been happy in school.
“But now, you have nice clothes and you will stay in school. Someday I’ll go to an opera and see my Esperanza up there on the stage. You’ll be somebody someday, you’re a smart cookie.”
And being a smart cookie, I keep my mouth shut.
“I could have been someone you know, aldi elaiefjdl iealfkeol,” my mother muttered. “I’d be a smart cookie then.”
She can speak two languages, English and one no one quite recognizes. When she was younger my mother would keep busy and paint in her free time; that was before the accident. Now she spends her days singing along loudly to borrowed opera records while stitching away at rose buds and tulips made of silk thread.
My mother remembers how to fix a T.V. for all the good it does her and she can sing her opera, but she can't remember which train to take to get downtown in the city she has lived in her whole life. Sometimes when she is more herself she lectures me about staying in school.
“Esperanza, you go to school,” she says, “and study hard.”
She blames the accident on her lack of education. My mother quit school to work as a seamstress in a factory. She had been there nearly a week when it happened, a sewing machine fell on her head, and she has never been the same since. It was at the factory that my mother had to give up her dream of being a famous opera singer.
“Esperanza,” my mother said softly relinquishing her grip on my aching fingers. “Do you want to know why I quit school?”
“No mother,” I thought to myself as I bit my tongue and waited for her to continue, “You have told me a million times already.”
“I didn’t have nice clothes!” My mother exclaimed, “If I had had nice clothes, I wouldn’t have quit, I was a smart cookie then.”
I fought hard to keep from smiling. My mother’s had always been the theater and fashion, never school. Even with 200 pairs of shoes, I knew my mother would never have been happy in school.
“But now, you have nice clothes and you will stay in school. Someday I’ll go to an opera and see my Esperanza up there on the stage. You’ll be somebody someday, you’re a smart cookie.”
And being a smart cookie, I keep my mouth shut.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Nothing's Happening
I could’ve traveled somewhere this summer; I think to myself and sigh. The store was entirely dead with activity, I was bored to death. My feet hurt. The clock stopped, the minutes lurking in the corner of my eye. I could fidget and pace my day away, was it really worth the pay? The irony of getting paid to do nothing, to waste an entire day.
I used to like summer, I don’t even mind my work, but to stand and watch the nothing is more torturous than work. How can I complain? When being asked to do nothing? It shouldn’t be this hard. Doing nothing should be easy, but I feel like such a tard. Just standing here all day waiting for the nothing to happen, so that the nothing can continue, and I can get my pay. Then maybe I can get away.
It really can be frustrating, doing nothing all day long. I wish the nothing would go away. That way something might come back, someday. But who’s to say what nothing is. Nothing is nothing, nothing never was. So I’ll continue saying nothing's happening and continue just like that. Until I have something to take away from nothing on travel to coast, beaches far away.
I used to like summer, I don’t even mind my work, but to stand and watch the nothing is more torturous than work. How can I complain? When being asked to do nothing? It shouldn’t be this hard. Doing nothing should be easy, but I feel like such a tard. Just standing here all day waiting for the nothing to happen, so that the nothing can continue, and I can get my pay. Then maybe I can get away.
It really can be frustrating, doing nothing all day long. I wish the nothing would go away. That way something might come back, someday. But who’s to say what nothing is. Nothing is nothing, nothing never was. So I’ll continue saying nothing's happening and continue just like that. Until I have something to take away from nothing on travel to coast, beaches far away.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Welcome To My Blog
If you are reading this, that's fantastic. You are most likely someone in English 101, but maybe not. Either way welcome to my blog. If you are part of Andrea's Bunch you can ignore the following, because you already know it. This blog is composed for my English 101 class. It is designed to be a place to share my writing with my class and with anyone else who wants to read it. Hope you enjoy it.
-mel
-mel
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