Letter to the Reader

Dear Reader,
When I started college comp I loved to write, but I like writing creative pieces that had no purpose. I liked to write just to write. Throughout this course I have realized that I like to write creatively, but there are also so many other types of writing that I enjoy writing too. I have found I really like writing expository pieces as well as descriptive pieces. I expected to learn about writing at a college level and for the course to be boring. I think my classmates felt the same way for the most part. I was wrong in that way. The class was about writing and different types of writing, but it wasn't dry and boring like I had initially thought it would be.
I learned a lot as a writer. I learned that descriptive writing is something I was doing already to some extent in my writing. I learned about myself as a writer and how I work best. I explored a lot with dialogue and descriptions and found that I can incorporate descriptions in my writing in creative ways like through dialogue. I learned the most from the 9/11 paper. I found that the writer used descriptions and real life events to paint a vivid picture. I thought the paper was very well writing and I really enjoyed the ashen man and how it tied into the whole thing. I learned about how you could take real life events and put it with descriptions and make an amazing piece. This story was the inspiration for my Moxie piece. I incorporated real life events with vivid description to make a story that was moving and powerful.
Reading through my papers, I notice that I grew a lot this year. I think my biggest strides were in dialogue and in descriptions. I can tell the difference between my first piece and my last piece. The descriptions are very different. In my last piece they are more based of off metaphors which is something that isn't in my first piece. My dialogue became effective while intriguing. I think in both of these areas I improved the most although I also think I improved a lot in bringing my voice through in my papers. In most of my papers my voice is settle, but in my fast food paper my voice shines through and I think that is why that paper is so effective.
I have learned a lot this year and I have grown a lot as a writer. I explored a lot of new writing styles an this course has taught me that I love writing just as much as I thought I did. I have grown through this course and although I thought it was going to be boring and dumb I think this course has helped me a lot and has prepared me for writing in college. I am glad to say that this course was effective in teaching me to write at a higher level and I and glad I took this course.

blog 11

reflections-
This paper is one of the last ones that I wrote and demonstrates how I was able to develop a voice in my writing throughout the course. In this paper my personal voice comes through a lot, through the sarcasm and the descriptions. I think I could improve some of my points. I think it is evident which of the sins I had researched more than the others. I am proud of this piece because one of my goals was to learn how to bring my voice through in my writing and I think this piece shows that I have accomplished this. I worked hard on the research for this piece and I think in the end this is a piece I could imagine seeing on theonion.com

artifact-

The Seven Deadly Sins of Fast Food

                Everyone loves a good burger once in a while, and as many Americans become more and more accustomed to the idea of drive through windows and cheap food many of us seem to willingly oversee the sins the fast food chains are blatantly committing. As we all know no one should praise a sinner so before you spend that dollar on some deep fried death sentence consider these seven deadly sins you are only encouraging with your purchase.

Sloth- Let’s start off with sloth because everyone knows that lazy ass hole that spends his days doing absolutely nothing.  Enter the breakfast burger brought to you by yours truly, Carl Jrs. Combine a fried egg, bacon, hash brown nuggets, cheese, ketchup, and a hamburger patty and slap that entire intestinal horror on a sesame-seed bun. How lazy do you have to be before it is too much of a hassle to eat your hash brown nuggets separately from the same action that pushes your burger/egg/bacon sandwich?

Gluttony- Where to start? After much consideration there was only one good example among the many to adequately take this category home, KFC’s Double Down Chicken Sandwich. Using two pieces of fried chicken instead of bread to make a sandwich?  Who thinks of this crap? Has the fast food market really run out of ideas or are we that eager to indulge in both chicken fingers and the burger that we so desperately need it combined into one?

Lust- While few find it attractive to be 300 pounds and obese, the fast food companies have still made it a point to touch every man’s most important parts. For example, the BK Super Seven Incher ad that features a woman with a disturbingly close resemblance to a blow-up doll about to down, well… a Super Seven Incher. The ad’s sexual imagery is so amateurishly blatant they might as well have written “Hey, see what we did with the phallic sandwich and the girl here?” in bold letters along the bottom. Oh wait… they did.  They added “It’ll BLOW your mind away” beneath it. Do they really think we missed it with the picture?  And the name.  Really?  Didn’t the uncontrollable giggling at the sandwich naming meeting tip you off that maybe you should go in another direction?

Wrath- almost everyone has seen  Morgan Spurlock’s documentary about food excess: Super Size Me and sure that sparked some anger, but as if it’s not bad enough much of fast food marketing encourages lousy eating habits, but you have to wonder what marketing genius gave the thumbs up to the new non-alcoholic Burger King Mimosa (orange juice and Sprite). It’s probably a genius idea to have your child drinking Mimosa’s at the age of 5 because that won’t cause any problems in the future. And when parents were in an uproar they calmed everyone’s anger with a simple fix, including it as an option with your breakfast sandwich.

Greed- The whole fast food world is made up of greedy people. Greedy people that want your money to greedy people that want to eat a lot and not have to pay for it. Fast food companies profit off of the greed in people. They enable people to over eat with things like the dollar menu and other specials where for four dollars you can have your heart attack, diabetes and premature death all at once.

Envy- When was the last time you dined at a McDonalds’s and didn’t see the creepy clown grinning at you, with his super red lips and his thin figure? You know he never ate one of those burgers, not with that body he isn’t. He just stands around and encourages all the little kids to not only fear clowns, but to take chicken fingers from creepy old men too. It wasn’t long before Burger King was feeling a little jealous of McDonald’s success with mascots that they decided to introduce their own creepy man into the picture, The King. I’m not sure about you fast food folks, but if I woke up to a King in my bed with a breakfast sandwich my first instinct would not be to casually thank him and eat it. Not to mention the ads where he is standing outside the house playing music in some sort of Romeo and Juliet spin off. Really America? Really?

Pride- Take the KFC Frak Pack. Whether you are a recent Battlestar Gallactica fan or not it doesn’t take a genius to know the word  “Frak” on BG basically translates to “Fuck.” They didn’t really try to hide it. Both start and end the same. If that’s not bad enough  KFC comes out with their Frak Pack Sweepstakes, which logically then translates to “The KFC Fuck Pack.” KFC isn’t the only company who arrogantly assumes they have their greasy little fingers on the pulse of what is cool, but was the Sweepstakes a necessary addition?

So the next time you are enjoying your heart attack on a bun remember nobody likes a sinner.

blog 10

Reflection-
This story was supposed to be about 9/11. After doing a lot of research I realized that my personal story about 9/11 demonstrated a lot of what happened that day. I really like how I explored switching between the two different points of view. That was something I had not tried before and I thought that for a first try I did really well with it. There are a few things that need to be changed like making the switch less abrupt. I think I need to work on making the switch better, so the reader isn't confused. I also think I could work on making the dialogue more effective while being entertaining and meaningful.

Story-

“Tonight you have a signing in Midtown and you’re going to perform one or two songs. Tomorrow you have the Today Shows so you will need to be in hair and makeup at 6:00 am the latest. Thursday is a travel day and Friday you have your show in Austin. Remember I’m bringing my niece with me tonight and tomorrow. I can’t go with you to Austin because I have to go to the Bahamas with Pitbul, but Roslin is going with you to Austin. I will be in constant contact with her, but this will be her first time without me so have patience.” My aunt sighed and looked at Mario. He just nodded in agreement. “Great. Now we need to get you to your fitting. Let me grab…”

“Hilda! Mario! Roslin! Everyone come to the conference room now! A plane has hit the twin towers!”

*         *         *

                I picked up a purple crayon and checked the tip. Turned my 64 color crayon box around and stuck the tip into the crayon sharpener. Twist. Twist. Twist. I checked the tip again. Stuck the crayon back into the box twisted one more time and began to color.

                “Can you hand me the crayons?” my sister said out stretching her hand towards the crayon box. I handed her the box without looking up. She was three, almost four, and I was seven. We sat on the ice cold concrete floor in the living room of my grandmothers Manhattan apartment, while she watched soap opera reruns in Spanish. My father was out for a run and my mother was getting coffee with some coworkers at Starbucks. We were in the city visiting family and celebrating my sister’s birthday. In just a few days she would be four and we would be heading back to Rochester. Her to daycare, me to school and my parents back to work, but for now though we were enjoying our time in the city.

 I put the purple away and picked up a sky blue. I looked out the window at the blue sky that seemed to stretch on forever. I saw two birds fly right across the blue sky; put down my blue crayon grabbed a grey and began to draw two birds into the sky of my picture. As I finished with my second bird the phone began to rings. My grandmother got up and answered the phone. I couldn’t tell what she was saying but I could tell there was panic in her voice. She looked at the two of us coloring and then began frantically looking for the remote. As she was looking for the remote, her cell phone started to ring. My sister and I looked at each other. My grandmother only talked to three people, her children. What’s the coincidence they were calling at the same time? I picked up her cell phone, and looked at the little screen. It was my mom.

                “Hello,” I said.

*        *         *

“No. Los Twin Towers,” my aunt repeated into the phone. “Los Twin Towers.  Los dos altas torres cerca de Battery Park.” There was a pause. My aunt nodded a few times and then rolled her eyes. “Mami, Encienda la television.”  The sounds of sirens filled the conference room, and then faded just in time for more sirens to fill the room. Looking out the floor to ceiling windows, the city looked anything, but calm. Looking out at Madison Ave, people were moving with blank stares and great urgency. Miles away from the true chaos, disbelief coated the streets. Up on the 78^th floor everyone was still confused about what had really happened. They watched the live feed on the computers and watched out the windows trying to piece together what was happening. 

“Oh. My. God. Look!” Roslyn screamed pointing at the computer screen. Everyone huddled around to see the second plane hit the other tower. All of a sudden silence fell in the room and everyone stood stunned. All you could hear was everyone’s shallow breathing and sirens racing past the building.

“Are we even safe up here?” Mario was looking out the window at the chaos down below. “Everyone seems to be leaving their buildings. Look.”

My aunt walked across the room to the windows and looked straight across. Sure enough, all the windows in the building across the street had curtains pulled, but no one was in sight. She looked down the building at the building entrance. Little dots filled hurriedly out of the building dispersing in different directions as soon as they exited. Some went towards train stations, some towards the parking garage, but most stood taking in the scene their body statures radiating panic.

“Let’s get down from here. Just to be safe,” RJ, another Sony Music promoter, said, “in case something happens?”

Everyone grabbed their bags and exited the conference room in silence. As they got closer to the elevators, they noticed they weren’t the only ones with the same instinct. The elevators were crowded with people, employees and musicians alike. Mario tapped my aunts shouldered and gestured towards the stairs. My aunt grabbed Roslyn’s wrist and the two followed suit towards the staircase.

*      *      *

                My mom had told us that a plane had hit the twin towers, the same reason my aunt had called. A small bit of chaos had erupted in the living room. My grandmother realized that my mom was right around there at the Starbucks and she had gone into full panic mode. Watching on the television she was watching not to see what was going on, but more to see if she saw my mom. She had directed my mom to leave the area and go far away, but she feared my mom wouldn’t make it.

                The broadcast had cut away from the scene and was now only giving verbal updates.  My sister and I didn’t know how to react. My grandmother had called my uncle who was overseas with his band and was telling him the same updates that the broadcaster was telling us. I wanted to continue coloring my picture, but I wasn’t sure if my mom was okay or not. My grandmother continued talking to my uncle and then her cell phone rang. I picked up the big phone and answered it.

                “Hello. Mom?”  I listened closely. There were a lot of muffled sounds in the background. Finally I heard my mom speak,

                “Amanda?”

                “Yes Mommy. Where are you? Abuela is really scared.” I looked at my grandmother pointed to the phone in my hand and mouthed the word mom.

                “I’m fine. Mrs. Duthiers and I are walking home now. The trains have already stopped running. It’s going to be a little while, but I wanted to let you know we are coming home.” She was breathing heavily so I assumed they were walking fast. “Tell Abuela not to worry.” I looked at my grandmother again.

                “No te preocupes,” I said.

                “¿Diez y diez?” my grandmother questioned.

                “¿Diez y diez?” I repeated into the phone.

                “Yes,” laughed my mom, “diez y diez.” I nodded at my grandmother and gave her a thumbs up. This was a little thing my grandmother would do. When my sister and I were really little and would fall she would do a quick check. Ten fingers and ten toes meant you were okay. Now it had become routine. When someone fell my grandmother would simply say “¿diez y diez?” and if the answer was yes there was no need for tears.

                I hung up the phone with my mom and looked at my sister. She was still coloring slightly unfazed by everything.

                “Claudi, Mom’s on her way home.” She just looked at me and smiled.

*      *      *

Once down the stairs we joined in with the silent chaos. The somber mood covered the streets like a blanket of dust. They walked down Madison Ave, with no purpose. As they followed crowds of people they found themselves at a local pub. Stopping in they joined the others. Everyone was watching the news on the televisions. One tower had fallen the other wasn’t looking too good. Everyone was so engrossed in what was happening no one noticed the singers that were standing in the back with them. Jaws half open, my aunt and a few other employees watched the drama unfolding just a few miles away. The silence was only broken by the news broadcasters and the ring of a few cell phones. Together they all watched the towers that embodied the city fall to the ground.

*      *      *

                After what felt like forever the buzzer to my grandmother’s apartment buzzed. Jumping up my grandmother pressed the button opening the main door. We all went to the elevator and gathered around the elevator doors. As the doors opened my mom walked out and my sister and I jumped into her out stretched arms. Squeezing her tightly I could hear my grandmother sniffling and fighting back tears. Looking up at my mom I noticed she too was fighting back tears.

                “Let’s go into the apartment,” my mom suggested. Grabbing my hand my mom led us into the apartment and sat down on the couch releasing a huge sigh of relief.

*      *      *

                After the second tower fell, everyone started to panic. Slowly people decided it was time to head home and hopefully find their loved ones waiting for them untouched by the disaster. *man run by ashed*

blog 9

In my original I really liked the story line, but when I was rereading ym first draft I realized that there was a lot of things that I could add in to enhance my descriptions. I liked how I had described Emma, but I had only mentioned some things not everything like when I described her face I mentioned her smile, but not her eyes. In my rewrite I tried to enhance the descriptions. I looked at a picture of Emma and wrote my descriptions while looking at the picture. In my first draft I really liked the story line, so I kept that the same and just added a few more things in to make the whole Moxie idea complete. I think this story and the rewrite demostrates my growth with desrciptions and descriptive writing.

blog 8

Original-

Moxie

Walking into the children’s hospital warmth flooded me. The heat was a welcomed change to the cold, snowy Boston morning. Unzipping my jacket a little I headed over to the elevator. Headphones in blasting Beyoncé I entered the elevator. As “Save the Hero,” comes to an end I anxiously await the next song. Pressing the button for the Cancer Treatment Floor, I step back and lean against the wall of the elevator. A song slowly starts to fade in and my heart skips a beat; I could tell what the song was immediately.  I look at the display screen on my iPhone and my fears were confirmed. As “Tattoo” by Jordin Sparks filled my ears my thoughts go to Emma, her favorite song.

It was just months ago we were celebrating two years cancer free. We had a huge barbeque and invited everyone over. I told Emma she was just coming over to swim. I can remember telling her to just meet me in my backyard. Everyone was waiting in the backyard. You could hear the clinging of jewelry coming around the corner of the house. I didn't have to look in that direction, I knew it was Emma. She always wore lots of silver bracelets that adorned her thin wrists and long silver earrings stretching down to her neck, giving her neck the illusion of incredible length. Atop her neck a slightly tanned oval shaped face, with the slightest tint of pink in her checks.  As Emma turned the corner, everyone yelled surprise. There was no need to explain the occasion; she knew right away this wasn’t a birthday party, but a look how far we have come party.

As the elevator doors opened I walked out and down the brightly colored halls, a drastic change from the regular hospital.  I stopped in front of her door. Pictures of Emma and her friends covered the door. I caught a glimpse of the two of us years ago when she first came here. I had come with purple blankets and my favorite stuffed animal, Barney. You could see the flowers everyone had brought her in the background and the get well poster her softball team had made her. Taking a deep breath I knocked on the door and waited.

“Come in,” called Emma.

     Walking into the hospital room I first noticed the get well balloons that covered her ceiling. Looking at Emma tears welled in my eyes. She was covered in blankets up to her neck just her pale face and neck could be seen. A large face mask covered her mouth and nose as to prevent her from getting sick. Her clavicle so pronounced I felt it was screaming at me. She looked weak and worn out, nothing like the girl I knew, but when she spoke I knew that my friend was still in there. She talked with such enthusiasm and happiness I could only imagine the smile that was probably covering her face behind that mask.

 “How are you feeling?”

                Emma laughed, “Never been better!” she replied. “Look!” Lifting up her blanket, she pulled out the Barney I had given her years before. “I still have him,” she said. I could tell she was smiling behind her mask. We both laughed. I knew she still the Emma I had come to love.

As I looked around her room my eyes caught a huge stack of papers.

                “What are all of those?”

                “That,” Emma replied “is all the paper work I have to finish for my fundraiser.” I must have looked puzzled because she laughed and rolled her eyes in a “you’re so slow” manor. “I am still doing that fundraiser for Children Awaiting Parents. I only have chemo for four hours a day, so I figured why not continue with the fundraiser. Plus, just because I’m sick again doesn’t mean those kids don’t need help anymore.”

                Why was I not surprised. This was just like Emma. “Aren’t you tired? You shouldn’t overdo it Emm.”

                “It’s fine. I’m almost done with everything, and then all I have to do is send it to school. They will run it from there.”

                Before I could respond there was a knock at the door and Emma told them to come in. It was a nurse. She was short, plump and very orange. The poor women looked like an Oompa Loopa with blonde beehive hair. She smiled at me, but didn’t say anything. She walked over to Emma and Emma handed her wrist. She took Emma’s pulse and temperature all without saying a word. Then she scribbled a few things down on the paper next to Emma’s bed and walked out.

                “She’s friendly,” I said sarcastically.

                “Yeah that’s Marie. She doesn’t even talk to me and she stops in every hour or so.” Emma shrugged, “I have tried talking to her, but she doesn’t seem like the talkative type so I stopped.” She smiled and then rubbed her head. As she ran her fingers through the hair left on her head some more hair fell out. She grabbed the hair and twisted, dropping the hair into the garbage can. She looked into the garbage can and sighed, “I guess it will grow back again.”

                “It always does,” I tried to encourage her. I knew losing her hair was the hardest part for her. Ever since her hair had grown back she had taken such pride in making it look good every day. “It must stink, you know, losing your hair again and being back here.”

                Emma shook her head. “It’s not that bad. I got to spend two years like a normal teen. There is one girl two doors down, she was here when I first came and she still is. I have it good; some of these kids can’t even have visitors.”  She buried herself further under the covers. “And I have so many people routing for me here and back home. Caring about losing my hair would be selfish.”

                I just looked at her and laughed. “You are something else Emm.” I could tell she was smiling. I could just imagine her smiling that half smile she always did when she was flattered, or embarrassed.

                “You cold? Come.” Emma moved over in her bed and made a spot for me. I crawled in next to her and covered myself in the blankets. I could feel her thin fragile legs under the blankets. If I had just heard Emma’s voice I would have never known she was going through chemo.  Through everything she was still the same person. She might have cancer again and she might look weak, but she was still the same Emma

                “Sorry to interrupt, but Emma, honey, it’s time for your treatment.” The nurse came in wearing her pooh bear scrubs. Her I got up out of the bed and grabbed my phone. I quickly texted my mom to tell her to come get me. As the nurse unlocked the wheels on her bed Emma set Barney down on the bed side table. She opened her fragile arms and embraced me in a hug.

                “Bye Emm.”

                “Bye.” She responded. “I’ll be home soon. See you then.” She waved and then looked at the nurse.    

                “Why don’t you head out before us,” the nurse said gesturing me towards the door. I walked out and stood towards the right of the door. The nurse wheeled Emma out and made a turn towards the left. As I stood there watching Emma gets wheeled away, my heart sank and tears welled in my eyes. I saw Emma stick her arm up in the air and wave. I waved back even though I knew she couldn’t see me. The nurse turned the bed right and Emma looked over at me. She held up her hand in the number one and I could see her mouth, “Rule One.” I smiled at her and then watched the bed disappear down the hall.

                I turned around and headed back to the elevator. I got in the elevator and pushed G. As the elevator went down the tears flooded my eyes. I got out of the elevator and zipped up my jacket. As I walked out the giant sliding glass doors I saw my mom standing with Emma’s mom. Emma’s mom looked at me and opened up her arms. I ran into her arms and started to cry.

                “We will get through this together,” she whispered while she rubbed my back. “I promise.”

Revised-

Moxie

Walking into the children’s hospital warmth flooded me. The heat was a welcomed change to the cold, snowy Boston morning. Unzipping my jacket a little I headed over to the elevator. Headphones in blasting Beyoncé I entered the elevator. As “Save the Hero,” comes to an end I anxiously await the next song. Pressing the button for the Cancer Treatment Floor, I step back and lean against the wall of the elevator. A song slowly starts to fade in and my heart skips a beat; I could tell what the song was immediately.  I look at the display screen on my iPhone and my fears were confirmed. As “Tattoo” by Jordin Sparks filled my ears my thoughts go to Emma, her favorite song.

It was just months ago we were celebrating two years cancer free. We had a huge barbeque and invited everyone over. I told Emma she was just coming over to swim. I can remember telling her to just meet me in my backyard. Everyone was waiting in the backyard. You could hear the clinging of jewelry coming around the corner of the house. I didn't have to look in that direction, I knew it was Emma. She always wore lots of silver bracelets that adorned her thin wrists and long silver earrings stretching down to her neck, giving her neck the illusion of incredible length. Atop her neck a slightly tanned oval shaped face, with the slightest tint of pink in her checks. Her big hazel eyes flecked with green always outlined with brown mascara, but never with eyeliner. Her nose not too big, but not too small, an arrow leading the eye directly to her huge smile. Lips, thin and light, framing her braced teeth with ease. As Emma turned the corner, everyone yelled surprise. Her eyes had a twinkle only found in fairytales and her nose wrinkled like it always does when she laughs. Emma's long chestnut hair fell effortlessly down her shoulders with just the slightest wave giving her hair volume like the models in the Pantene commercials without any of the professional help. There was no need to explain the occasion; she knew right away this wasn’t a birthday party, but a look how far we have come party.

As the elevator doors opened I walked out and down the brightly colored halls, a drastic change from the regular hospital. As I walked down the hall I looked at all the doors and it hit me. Every single room was filled with another child going through the same thing as Emma, and every person that had walked the same path I was walking had been affected by cancer just like I had. I stopped in front of her door. Pictures of Emma and her friends covered the door. I caught a glimpse of the two of us years ago when she first came here. I had come with purple blankets and my favorite stuffed animal, Barney. You could see the flowers everyone had brought her in the background and the get well poster her softball team had made her. Taking a deep breath I knocked on the door and waited.

“Come in,” called Emma.

     Walking into the hospital room I first noticed the get well balloons that covered her ceiling. Looking at Emma tears welled in my eyes. She was covered in blankets up to her neck just her pale face and neck could be seen. A large face mask covered her mouth and nose as to prevent her from getting sick. The mask would normally over power someone's face, but her huge eyes stood up to the test. Her large hazel eyes, now more evident than ever, seemed like sunken rocks in wet sand. The pink in her checks was gone and the hair that had always enriched her appearance was now a thing of the past. As I got closer to her, I could see small patches of hair still on her scalp. Her clavicle so pronounced I felt it was screaming at me. She looked weak and worn out, nothing like the girl I knew, but when she spoke I knew that my friend was still in there. She talked with such enthusiasm and happiness I could only imagine the smile that was probably covering her face behind that mask.

                “Amanda, you’re breaking rule number one.” Emma gestured to the wall. Looking at the wall there was a neon yellow poster with the rules listed on them. Sure enough rule number one read, “No tears.”

                “You’re right. Sorry,” I said wiping the tears from my checks. “How are you feeling?”

                Emma laughed, “Never been better!” she replied. “Look!” Lifting up her blanket, she pulled out the Barney I had given her years before. “I still have him,” she said. I could tell she was smiling behind her mask. We both laughed. I knew she still the Emma I had come to love.

As I looked around her room my eyes caught a huge stack of papers.

                “What are all of those?”

                “That,” Emma replied “is all the paper work I have to finish for my fundraiser.” I must have looked puzzled because she laughed and rolled her eyes in a “you’re so slow” manor. “I am still doing that fundraiser for Children Awaiting Parents. I only have chemo for four hours a day, so I figured why not continue with the fundraiser. Plus, just because I’m sick again doesn’t mean those kids don’t need help anymore.”

                Why was I not surprised. This was just like Emma. “Aren’t you tired? You shouldn’t overdo it Emm.”

                “It’s fine. I’m almost done with everything, and then all I have to do is send it to school. They will run it from there.”

                Before I could respond there was a knock at the door and Emma told them to come in. It was a nurse. She was short, plump and very orange. The poor women looked like an Oompa Loopa with blonde beehive hair. She smiled at me, but didn’t say anything. She walked over to Emma and Emma handed her wrist. She took Emma’s pulse and temperature all without saying a word. Then she scribbled a few things down on the paper next to Emma’s bed and walked out.

                “She’s friendly,” I said sarcastically.

                “Yeah that’s Marie. She doesn’t even talk to me and she stops in every hour or so.” Emma shrugged, “I have tried talking to her, but she doesn’t seem like the talkative type so I stopped.” She smiled and then rubbed her head. As she ran her fingers through the hair left on her head some more hair fell out. She grabbed the hair and twisted, dropping the hair into the garbage can. She looked into the garbage can and sighed, “I guess it will grow back again.”

                “It always does,” I tried to encourage her. I knew losing her hair was the hardest part for her. Ever since her hair had grown back she had taken such pride in making it look good every day. “It must stink, you know, losing your hair again and being back here.”

                Emma shook her head. “It’s not that bad. I got to spend two years like a normal teen. There is one girl two doors down, she was here when I first came and she still is. I have it good; some of these kids can’t even have visitors.”  She buried herself further under the covers. “And I have so many people routing for me here and back home. Caring about losing my hair would be selfish.”

                I just looked at her and laughed. “You are something else Emm.” I could tell she was smiling. I could just imagine her smiling that half smile she always did when she was flattered, or embarrassed. I looked down at my orange bracelet I had bought. “Moxie. Huh?  It’s so fitting.”

                “Moxie.” Emma replied. “I love it.” The girls at Mercy had started a fundraiser for Emma to help her family with costs. The made orange shirts and bracelets that said Moxie, which means strength and perseverance in Latin. They had been selling the Moxie things and running different fundraisers with the hopes of giving Emma and her family the best Christmas present ever this year.

                “You cold? Come.” Emma moved over in her bed and made a spot for me. I crawled in next to her and covered myself in the blankets. I could feel her thin fragile legs under the blankets. If I had just heard Emma’s voice I would have never known she was going through chemo. If not for the physical toll the treatment had taken on Emma you would think she was fine. Through everything she was still the same person, strong and persevering through this like everything else. She might have cancer again and she might look weak, but she was still the same Emma. As we sat there, we gossiped and laughed together just like old times. Before I knew it the door opened.

                “Sorry to interrupt, but Emma, honey, it’s time for your treatment.” The nurse came in wearing her pooh bear scrubs. Her I got up out of the bed and grabbed my phone. I quickly texted my mom to tell her to come get me. As the nurse unlocked the wheels on her bed Emma set Barney down on the bed side table. She opened her fragile arms and embraced me in a hug.

                “Bye Emm.”

                “Bye.” She responded. “I’ll be home soon. See you then.” She waved and then looked at the nurse.    

                “Why don’t you head out before us,” the nurse said gesturing me towards the door. I walked out and stood towards the right of the door. The nurse wheeled Emma out and made a turn towards the left. As I stood there watching Emma gets wheeled away, my heart sank and tears welled in my eyes. I saw Emma stick her arm up in the air and wave. I waved back even though I knew she couldn’t see me. The nurse turned the bed right and Emma looked over at me. She held up her hand in the number one and I could see her mouth, “Rule One.” I smiled at her and then watched the bed disappear down the hall.

                I turned around and headed back to the elevator. I got in the elevator and pushed G. As the elevator went down the tears flooded my eyes. I got out of the elevator and zipped up my jacket. As I walked out the giant sliding glass doors I saw my mom standing with Emma’s mom. Emma’s mom looked at me and opened up her arms. I ran into her arms and started to cry.

                “We will get through this together,” she whispered while she rubbed my back. “I promise.”

Commericals~ Perfection

Commericals that show/exemplify perfection and beauty if you use their products-

• promises professional beauty at home. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w2rdjjOxqkI
• promises to make you natural glamerous and magazine cover ready. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JIwND5HZQvY
• promises girls will be all over you http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fT6IWAIf580
• promises to make you look like a million dollars http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cxUd-lI7t8M

I think I could use this commercial in an interesting way because although it doesn't promote beauty it brings up a good point that I could hopefully incorperate into my story.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hibyAJOSW8U

blog 6

For Discussion1. I find her description of the tastes and textures of the canned food more nauseating than the descriptions of the dry dog food. The examples of things she uses that are words we in general find gross. She uses colors that we naturally associate with gross like brown and gray.

Strategies And Structures
1. Her writing was very descriptive, other parts of the story that were descriptive like this was "A lumpy, frightening, stringy horror is a sign of high quality- lots of meat." As well as when she said, "Big, purplish-brown chunks" and "The meat chewed like Play-Doh that had been sitting on a rug for a couple of hours."

5. Words she uses are fat-drenched, brown liquid, dissolves crumbs, white-flecked mush, and other words of such nature.

6. The dominant impression created in this paragraph is Dog food is not made for human's and should be barely edible. As well as, dog food is not something someone should be trying

blog 5

GEM 1: You're not reproducing actual speech- youre translating the sound and rhythm of what a character says into words. You're putting down on paper what your sense of how the characters speak.
GEM 2: "The better you know the characters, the more you'll see things from their point of view."
GEM 3: "There shouldn't be just a single important character in your work for whom you have compassion."
I think that these gems will help me with my stories. I tend to pick a main character and focus on developing that one charaacter so i think Gem 3 will be helpful. I need to feel as involved with each character rather than just focusing on the one main character and not devleoping them all. I also think i should put more time into understanding my secobnd and third characters so that I can adequately deveolpe them. lastly the first gem will help me because I want the diagloue to be real and not forced.

Physical Description- Emma

Emma pre-cancer:    
     You could hear the clinging of jewlery coming around the corner. I didn't have to look in that direction, I knew it was Emma. She always wore lots of silver bracletts that adorned her thin wrists and long silver earrings stretching down to her neck, giving her neck the illusion of incredible length. Atop her neck a slightly tanned oval shaped face, with the slightest tint of pink in her checks. Her big hazel eyes flecked with green always outlined with brown mascara, but never with eyeliner, had a twinkle only found in fairytales. Her nose not too big, but not too small, an arrow leading the eye directly to her huge smile. Lips, thin and light, framing her braced teeth with ease. Emma's long chesnut hair, falls effortlessly down her shoulders with just the slightest wave giving her hair volume like the models in the Pantene commercials without any of the professional help.
Emma during treatment-
     Walking into the hospital room, she was covered in blankets up to her neck just her pale face and neck could be seen. A large face mask covered her mouth and nose as to prevent her from getting sick. The mask would normally over power someone's face, but her huge eyes stood up to the test. Her large hazel eyes, now more evident then ever, seemed like sunken rocks in wet sand. The pink in her checks was gone and the hair that had always enriched her apperance, was now a thing of the past. As I got closer to her, I could see small patches of hair still on her scalp. Her clavicle so prounounced I felt it was screaming at me. She looked weak and worn out, nothing like the girl I knew, but when she spoke I knew that my friend was still in there. She talked with such enthusiasm and happiness I could only imagine the smile that was probably covering her face behind that mask.

Reworking my Introduction

           “Tonight you have a signing in Midtown and you’re going to perform one or two songs. Tomorrow you have the Today Shows so you will need to be in hair and makeup at 6:00 am the latest. Thursday is a travel day and Friday you have your show in Austin. Remember I’m bringing my niece with me tonight and tomorrow. I can’t go with you to Austin because I have to go to the Bahamas with Pitbul, but Roslin is going with you to Austin. I will be in constant contact with her, but this will be her first time without me so have patience.” My aunt sighed and looked at Mario. He just nodded in agreement. “Great. Now we need to get you to your fitting. Let me grab…”
          “Hilda! Mario! Roslin! Everyone come to the conference room now! A plane has hit the twin towers!"

In my original introduction I tried to jump right into the story with some dialoge. I tried to make the introduction intriguing and jump into the action while giving enough detail to let the reader know what the story is about.

Describtion for emotional appeal- Running down the street came a man in a suit. There was a hole in the elbow of his right sleeve, and dried blood on his knees. His hands were covered in ash and his white shirt had grey smudges all over it. He made no gestured that showed he recognized the people around him. He ran with intent in his eyes, expressionless. As he ran by everyone stared. He ran straight down the street and it seemed as if he was running from someone, or something. My aunt turned her head to follow him. He ran a few more feet to a women. She opened her arms and let out a loud cry. There they stood crying, embracing each other like they would never get a chance to hold each other again.

Question- What constitutes as normal? Is a normal day a day that is like every other or is it something else. Is the day normal if nothing excitileaving early and staying ng happens or is it boring? Is normal when I spend all day working and finish everything or is that just productive. What makes the day go from normal to not normal? Is it the difference between late? Or the difference between having the same lunch or something new? Whatever the difference between normal and not normal this day was nothing like I or anyone else had experienced before.

Recognition- For someone who prides themself on the neatness of her house and car, my aunt was suprisingly unorganized today. She had papers everywhere and sticky notes stuck all over the room. Coworkers passed her room and said hello, but she didn't hear them. She was drowning in her own clutter and needed to leave her office ten minutes ago. As she frantically looked through papers for the flight information Mario walked into her office.

Introduction to 9/11 Draft

“Tonight you have a signing in Midtown and you’re going to perform one or two songs. Tomorrow you have the Today Shows so you will need to be in hair and makeup at 6:00 am the latest. Thursday is a travel day and Friday you have your show in Austin. Remember I’m bringing my niece with me tonight and tomorrow. I can’t go with you to Austin because I have to go to the Bahamas with Pitbul, but Roslin is going with you to Austin. I will be in constant contact with her, but this will be her first time without me so have patience.” My aunt sighed and looked at Mario. He just nodded in agreement. “Great. Now we need to get you to your fitting. Let me grab…”

“Hilda! Mario! Roslin! Everyone come to the conference room now! A plane has hit the twin towers!”

Blog 1: And We're Off

Welcome to my blog, my name is Amanda and I am taking College Composition. When I'm not in school, I am dancing. I have danced since I was three years old and have been dancing competitively since I was seven. I dance at one of the top fifty dance studios nationwide and spend seven days a week at the studio.  My sister dances as well and at any given time you can find the furniture pushed against the walls and the two of us rehearsing together. My love of dance has lead to a love of music. There isn't a bad mood music cannot comfort or a good mood music cannot enhance. Coming from a musical family, there is always music playing in my house. If I'm not dancing I'm watching football. Born into a New York Jets family, I have fully embraced my green pride. I look forward to Sunday's to sit around and watch football with the family. I have one fear, bridges. I don't know where this fear came from, but my sister has the same fear too.

Readers can expect posts full of creative, colorful writing. I was wrongly put in this class, and should be in a creative writing class. I like exploring with different points of views and writing about things I feel passionate about. I hope to grow as a writer through this course to prepare me for college writing. I hope you enjoy my blog as I blog my way to college.