Fall 2013

ePortfolio | Whitney Morgan

Eng 285 Required Musings

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Table of Contents

Cover Page………………………………………………………………………………………..1

Table of Contents………………………………..………………………………………………..2

Introductory Essay……………………………………………………………………………….3

Finished Poems……………………………………………………………………………………6

Average is Great………………………………………………………………………….6

Underground Daydreams………………………………………………………….……..7

Beautiful Creatures………………………………………………………………………8

My Paradise…………………………………..………………………………………….8

Feelings…………………………………………………………………………………..9

Finished Fiction………………………………………………………………………………….10

Survivor…………………………………………………………………………………10

Details…………………………………………………………………………………..11

Memories………………………………………………………………………………..13

Finished Non-Fiction…………………………………………………………………………....17

Retail Problems…………………………………………………………………...……..17

Generation Gap……………………………………………………………………...…..20

Inked……………………………………………………………………………………21

Poems Draft………………….…………………………………………………………………24

Fiction Draft……………………………………………………………………………………28

Non-Fiction Draft………………………………………………………………………………32

Poem Revision Essay……………………………………………………………………………34

Fiction Revision Essay………………………………………………………………………….36

Non-Fiction Revision Essay…………………………………………………………………….39

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Introductory Essay

Writing is something that not many people do enough, including myself. Following this

introduction is a group of my works for my Creative Writing class at Ball State. I really hope you

enjoy these works as I have put a lot of time and effort into creating them.

Before this class, I had never really written a ton of creative works. I mostly have had to

write essays about certain topics or research papers that were long and boring. This was

definitely a new experience because I don’t normally write in my day to day life. It was

interesting and has made me want to write some more in daily life, even if it is a page a month

because every little bit counts.

When it comes to my poetry, I definitely have an interesting style. For the most part, I

like to tell stories with my poems. They are often easy to understand and don’t go into a ton of

depth. I also don’t like to write about myself. When I tried to do this, I found myself hating the

poem and thinking it sounded fake and forced. This is probably due to the fact that I like writing

fiction versus non-fiction. So, because of this, my poems aren’t based on real life but instead

stories that I’ve made up and translated into poetry.

Non-fiction was probably my least favorite to write. I feel like my life doesn’t have

enough interesting stories to make good stories. Also, when it comes to non-fiction, for some

reason, I had a harder time being descriptive when writing because I had less interest in the story

and I think because I already knew how the story goes. I found this interesting because I didn’t

know this before I had to write a large amount of non-fiction. The stories that I did come up with

though are about some funny moments in my life and some meaningful ones because I feel as if

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that it’s a good representation of my life. I also found that I didn’t want to write sadder stories

about my life. This is interesting because I don’t really have a reason why I don’t want to do that.

Fiction was definitely my favorite thing to write. I think this is because I can literally

write about anything at all and it is ok. I can dream up anything I’d like and make it a story. I

also think I like fiction more because I want to be more descriptive with the stories because they

are happening as I write them and I become excited and invested in them more than non-fiction. I

even think that I am going to take another creative writing class that focuses in fiction. My

stories are varied when it comes to fiction. I think this is because of all of the possibilities when

it comes to the plot of the story. All of the stories do talk about the value of the little things in life

and how to look on the bright side of things.

As for my portfolio, I did arrange things a certain way and for a reason. First, I decided to

put my polished works. I did this because I wanted the best piece and the final product to read

first and enjoyed thoroughly. Second, I decided to put my rough drafts. After reading the final

products, I wanted the reader to see what they were at first and how they developed. Last, I put

my revision essays because it is a more specific version of what I did to improve my pieces so

readers are able to go back and see more specifics after reading both versions.

For the future, there are a few things that I want to accomplish. First, I want to go on

some more adventures so that I can improve my non-fiction writings. I think that this will happen

whether I consciously decide to do this or not but I think that my non-fiction writing will

improve as I gain life experience. Second, I want to try and write more sad things. While this

sounds bad, I feel that, as a writer, I need to be able to write a full spectrum of emotion and not

be one sided. Lastly, I want to write more. I mentioned this above but I want to write more and

become better at it.

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Overall, I’m pretty excited about my work. Of course, like any author, I enjoy some

pieces more than others but all of them took work and effort to make them as good as they can

be. So there you have it. I really hope you enjoy my works!

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Finished Poems

Average is GreatThe life was good. Drinking wine, hot-air ballooning, no worries. Endless money, meeting people, dinner parties.Along with money came selfishness, greed, and eventually hard times.He ponders his old life as a CEO and sits on the filthy curb. People walk pastGiving him stares as dirty as his clothes. Had he only known, he could’ve prepared, But He Didn’t. He gets up and looks for a place to sleep. He had a permanent place under a bridge before the pigeons invaded. He hates pigeons. On the ground, a lottery ticket winks at him. He picks it up and dreams about a new life. Modest home, Warm bed, Hot shower. Never would he be selfish for Anything. He opens his eyes The gas station attendant stares at him in awe and says that he’s won. Tears fill his eyes as he looks at the amount $300,000 written on the card

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Underground Daydreams

I am plainPlain as dayMy rough, brown exterior isn’t appealingWishing I could be an apple right about nowIt’s bright, red flesh reflecting the sunWhile it’s hanging from a beautiful treeWhere am I?DirtGross, dirtEw, a worm just touched me!Stay calmThis is only temporaryI daydream about getting out of this dirtI’ve heard the stories, rumors actuallyThey help me stay positiveI have so much potentialI don’t know why anyone would want me thoughPlainPlain as dayBut I hope for a day those rumors come trueWhat will I become?Baked, fried, sautéedTater tots, french fries, au gratinMy dream is to go to this place called McDonaldsNever been there but I’ve heard it’s greatBut for right now, I’m stuckWhere am I?DirtGross dirtSitting hereRight nowI’m plainPlain as dayBut I can dream

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Beautiful Creatures

Sadness pours down the riverThe blue of her dress glistensIt shouts loudly for all to hear

Jealousy crackles in the Arizona heatCovered in glitter

“Look at me now,” it whispers

Ugliness covers the worldWearing the clothes of a martyr

Walking and infecting everyone in its path

Hatred runs through the treesDonning a wool coat

Clawing its way to the top

My Paradise

Hidden in a lush forest so greenA special place that is so serene

A place where the wind rustles your hairWhere butterflies soar from here to there

Where sitting by the creek, its water so blueMakes emotions stir that are brand new

Almost no sound you’ll hear but nature so cleanYou almost feel like you’re a part of a dream

A special place kept for those who need peaceWhere stresses and problems and worries release

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Feelings

I feel isolated from my peers.

I feel obese when I eat that extra chip.

I feel like I am not perfect.

I feel the closest to my family.

I feel unsure about my future.

I feel like I need to decide my life plans this second.

I feel like I’m starting over.

I feel the need to cuddle my dogs.

I feel that my calling is waiting to be discovered.

I feel like I want to travel.

I feel my obsession with my T.V. shows.

I feel lazy when dressing for class.

I feel regretful when I don’t dress nice for said class.

I feel the warmth of hot chocolate in my stomach

I feel the feeling of Christmas covering my soul

I feel contentment when watching Disney movies

I feel the happiness of new socks

I feel my future approaching quickly.

I feel my mind becoming stronger.

I feel the world changing in front of my eyes.

I feel as if I’m a part of history.

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Finished Fiction

Survivor

One year. It’s been one year since the accident that took Sarah’s sight. Being a twenty

year old and having no sight makes it difficult. Plus, being in college is a whole new obstacle.

It’s been a blur for her since it happened so on this one year anniversary she sits and processes

the whole thing.

She thinks about the accident. Of course it would be on the fourth of July, a day meant

for fun and beauty. The firework went off before she had time to move away. She remembers a

bright flash of light then blackness. She wishes that she could remember more of what happened

but she does know that the firework that hit her face took something important from her.

She doesn’t want to think about it anymore. Instead, she takes a moment just to listen and

feel. She’s good at that now. She hears the soft babble of a nearby fountain and footsteps come

near and then pass as quickly as they came. She felt a small breeze tickle her arms before hearing

it travel to the tress, rustling the leaves. Two girls talking about how they were planning on going

to a frat party this weekend pass by. Sarah liked to hear people and decide what they looked like

since she’d never know for sure. In her head, these two girls were skinny, blonde, and dressed in

all the designer things. She thinks that they were probably nice though, even though they didn’t

sound so as they passed her. Sarah always liked to think that everyone was nicer than they

probably were. If anyone ever questioned her about it, she just chalked it up to a positive attitude

and was just fine with that.

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Recollecting her life since the accident didn’t happen often. She took a moment and sat

on that bench, feeling the wind breeze by. There was nothing wrong with her life. She didn’t lose

any friends since it happened and she had even gone on some dates. Sure, things were harder but

she knew she would be fine. Being blind for a whole year wasn’t as bad as some people might

think. If anything, she knew that it would only get easier from here on out. As the sun came out

of the clouds and shined on her face, reflecting her outlook on life, a smile crept on her lips and

greeted it.

Details

There was something about the way he looked at me. Sure, I had boyfriends before but

nothing like this. I often catch him looking at me when I’m not paying attention. It’s almost like

we’re in a cheesy Disney movie and I feel like we should break out into song at any moment, as

we ride off into the sunset. It sounds stupid out loud, but I’ve never had that kind of relationship.

I look into his eyes and we just stare at each other and I start to notice things about him that I’d

never even noticed.

I first look at his hair; the light brown color has streaks of blonde in it that curls slightly

and runs down to the nape of his neck. His face is stunningly gorgeous. He’s the kind of

gorgeous that makes me so insecure when we stand side-by-side but, when I talk to him about it,

he strongly denies it and argues the opposite. His eyebrows curve perfectly and match the color

of his hair. His eyes are grey-blue and make me feel like I’m swimming in his soul when I look

into them. I make my way down to his cheeks, lips, chin; all of them beautiful in their own way.

I look at his arms and hands, so strong but gentle at the same time. I notice a small scar on his

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hand and remember how he told me that he got a fishing hook caught on that hand when he was

ten.

It’s not only the physical stuff though. He’s so wonderful inside and out. They way he

smiles when he sees his mom after a long while apart. It makes me feel the love for his family

just from his expression. His face and the way it lights up when he is around kids makes my

heart happy. When I’m upset, no one can make me feel as good as he can with the gentle way he

listens to me and doesn’t interrupt except when he knows it’s his time to talk. That’s one thing I

had always especially loved about him. The way he talks about his dreams of being a Hollywood

director makes me want to drop everything, move to Hollywood, and help him achieve anything

he wants. He is a part of me now and I never want that part of me to go away. He has captured

my heart, soul, and mind.

I picture a future with him. I actually have it all planned out but I would never tell him,

because I don’t want him to freak out or anything. I picture us moving to California so that he

can make movies. He will become very successful and I won’t have to work. But I will because I

get bored easily. I see myself becoming a teacher although I’m not sure what grade; maybe

kindergarten. We are going to have two kids; two girls and a boy. We pretty much will have the

perfect life and I am so excited.

I take another moment to think about all of the beautiful parts of him before I realize he

has been looking at me the whole time I had been looking at him. What feels like hours of me

thinking, has only been moments. I smile gently and he matches it. I wonder if he thinks about

me the way I think about him. When I look into his eyes though, I can tell he does.

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Memories

“Psst…Come with me,” my grandpa said, in that tender voice that I had grown to love.

He squatted down low, almost so low that I wasn’t sure he was going to be able to get back up.

He turned and looked at me and I saw that glimmer in his eye which meant he was up to

something. Grandpa had gotten a little less active as he got older but he never lost the urge to

pull pranks on people.

We slowly crept into the kitchen, trying not to make my mother aware of our plan. She

was upstairs folding laundry but would be back down any minute. I looked at my grandpa with a

curious look, anticipating what he had in mind. “Grab the diet coke bottle in the fridge,” he

whispered. He then held a finger to his lips, indicating me to stay silent. I tip-toe to the fridge and

do as I was told. When I return, there is a needle, thread, scissors, and one single mento lying on

the counter. I set the beverage on the counter and he goes to work.

I watch his old, but steady fingers thread the needle before the takes the mento and sticks

the needle through its center. I’m confused at first, but I know not to question. He indicates that

he wants me wants me to open the bottle cap and I do so. He takes the threaded mento and places

it in top of the spout and closes the lid. The thread holds the mento in place, so it doesn’t fall into

the soda lake before it’s supposed to and the extra thread pokes out of the cap. He takes the

scissors and cuts off the excess thread, leaving the bottle free of any hints that it has been

tampered with. He points to the fridge and I know to take the bottle back to its home.

I follow him back into the living room where we proceed to sit on the couch and continue

watching some show about elephants. Grandpa turns to me, winks, and says, “Now, we wait.”

We do as he says and soon we hear the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. In

anticipation, minutes feel like hours. It takes everything in me not to start giggling as I hear my

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mother open the fridge. First we hear my mother walk around a bit and tidy up I suppose. It

becomes quiet for a millisecond before the sound of the refrigerator door creaking open hits my

ears. Then, we hear a fizzing sound we had been waiting for and my mother scream. I turn to my

grandpa and we bust up laughing. I swear, we laughed for ten minutes straight. My mother

storms into the room, soaked with the liquid of our prank and just stands in silence. My

grandfather has a look of pure innocence as if he’s quietly been watching television this whole

time. My mother makes a grunting sound before turning and storming up the stairs. We started

giggling again and didn’t stop for the next hour. I’m pretty glad I don’t have a boring grandpa.

There was this other time where we pulled a prank on my sister and boy, was it great. I

was a bit mean but we had no filter when it came to pranks. The good news is that we had pretty

forgiving family and they had all come to expect pranks from us anyway.

It was the day before my sister’s birthday, only because we weren’t mean enough to pull

a prank on her actual birthday. She was turning fourteen and I had just turned ten. This time we

were playing cards before it started to get boring. As before, my grandpa got a sparkle in his eye

and got an idea. Luckily, my sister was out of the house so we didn’t have to be as sneaky but we

did have to be quick because she would be back soon.

I followed him into the kitchen. I remember thinking that we did I a lot of pranks in the

kitchen but then shrugging it off. He didn’t tell me what we were doing but guessing what we

were doing based on the utensils he pulled out was sort of the fun. He opened the fridge and

pulled out a large tub of Cool Whip. He then proceeded to pull out an empty cereal box, a large

knife, some tape, and some sprinkles that you put on ice cream. I know I looked confused. What

could he possibly do with these items?

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He told me that he would be right back and he left the room. I waited for about thirty

seconds before he came back with a deflated balloon in his hands. This only added to my

confusion. I asked him, “What’s all this stuff for? I can’t figure it out.” He smirked and said,

“We’re gonna make your sister a cake for her birthday. Blow up this balloon for me. My old

lungs can’t handle it.” I did as he told and waited for further instructions.

He took the balloon and placed it in the cereal box, which he had cut in half, making it so

that the balloon fit perfectly into it. He taped the balloon down and made sure that it didn’t move

in the box. Next, he took the whipped cream and told me to slather it on the balloon, making sure

that none of the balloon showed. Suddenly, it hit me. I knew what he was doing. I started

giggling as I covered the balloon with whipped cream, making it look as nice as I could. Handing

me the sprinkles, he told me to put them on top, to make it look nicer. I did so and we looked at

our masterpiece. He made sure to place the knife next to our creation because it was integral to

our success.

We went back into the living room and continued to play cards; the game became more

exciting when we knew we had something to look forward to. After about fifteen minutes, we

heard the door open and someone walk in. “Lucy? Is that you?” yelled my grandfather, to make

sure our prank didn’t go wasted on someone else. She yelled back that it was. My grandpa

responded, “Alice made you a cake for your birthday. Go ahead and get yourself some and bring

me a piece when you get a chance.” She said, “Ok,” before we heard her footsteps enter the

kitchen. We waited exactly sixteen seconds before hearing a loud POP and a shrill scream. My

sister screamed our names before stomping upstairs, most likely heading for a shower. We

laughed before going into the kitchen to see the damage.

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We walked in to see most everything covered in whipped cream, sprinkles, and bits of

balloon. We cracked up more than I thought possible. Unfortunately, I learned that pranking

people means that you have to clean up the mess. After we had a good mess, grandpa and I went

to work making sure everything was the way it was supposed to be. As I cleaned up, I remember

thinking that cleaning up the mess was worth it when we pulled the perfect pranks.

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Finished Non-Fiction

Retail Problems

Party City had become my home for the past few months. I mean, it was my first job so

of course I was going to become a bit attached to it. Whenever I had to work, I dreaded going in

but now that I think about it, I could’ve had a much worse job. Plus, I had seen so many crazy

things, how could I hate it? Well, other than it reinforcing my hatred of the general population

but that was given with any job because in every job, you have to deal with dumb people.

One of the first incidents that I remember happening started with me walking around the

store, recovering some merchandise. This large black woman walks up to me and states, “Where

is ya’lls Hello Kitty stuff?! I know you got it!” Of course, as a new employee, barely knowing

where anything was, I was unsure but I was not about to tell her that I didn’t know. I’ll be darned

if I didn’t take her right to the aisle it was in. I was pretty proud of myself.

Another woman once came in with her two young children and was buying stuff for a

Tinkerbell party. She was checking out when she told her daughter to go over to the clearance

box and grab some more jump ropes. While the mother was talking to me, she would

periodically turn around and scream at the little girl to hurry up and bring the things over. After

yelling at her, she would turn back around and talk to me in the sweetest voice ever. I felt like I

was talking to a bipolar dragon. It was so weird that she was so mean to her child. Working in

retail has made me realize that I could have a child today and be a better parent, as a 20 year old,

than most 30 year old parents.

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One time, an older black gentleman came up to the counter and said that he wanted a

balloon. Just a single balloon. He then proceeded to talk to another woman at the counter,

ignoring all questions that I asked him. So, at this point, I just blew up his balloon so that he

would be happy. He takes the balloon and leaves. Not five minutes later, he comes back in and

tells me that the balloon flew out of his car and that he needed another one. Of course, my

internal reaction is “You shouldn’t have let go of a balloon.” But, as politely as possible, I

offered him a balloon weight that would hold it down for him and he then mumbled for ten

minutes that I should’ve offered him that when he first came in. Of course I didn’t say anything

about how I tried but he was too busy babbling to someone to listen to me. So, I blew up a new

balloon, put it on the weight, and gave it to him, hoping that this one didn’t decide to run away

from him.

One day, I was scanning people like usual and this couples comes up. They don’t look

like the best kind of people but I start scanning their items. While scanning, I happen to look up

and notice the man that is standing next to his wife, but it’s not him I notice; it’s what’s on his

shoulder. I have to do a double take and discover a very small kitten no older than a month,

chilling on his shoulder. I was confused and a bit uncomfortable with it. I mean, they were in a

store shopping and they just decided that it was a good idea to bring a cat. I must admit that it

was pretty adorable though. After they had left, I tried to think of reasons that they would bring a

cat and the only thing I could think of was that they didn’t want to leave a kitten that small alone

if they were going to be out for a while, so that made me feel a bit better about the situation.

One of the things that we have to do at Party City is ask people what feels like a billion

questions. One of these questions is if people would like to give their phone number. I was told

that we ask people for their numbers so that the company can see where customers are coming

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from and too see where more ads and promotions need to be placed. Whether this is true or not, I

don’t quite know but that’s what I tell people. Anyway, this man came up and like usual, I asked

for his telephone number. He suddenly got angry and loudly asked what I wanted that for. I was

startled and I said the wrong thing. I told him that the company used it to track where people

were coming from. The word “track” was not the word that I should have used. This man

proceeded to start yelling about how he didn’t want anyone tracking him and how he wasn’t

giving me his phone number. Not only did he do this, but he was still mumbling stuff while he

was walking out the door. He just could not let it go.

Halloween is Party City’s biggest holiday. We work really hard to get everything out and

to make sure people get what they need so managers are often around the store stocking things

and what not. We also wear walkie talkies with earpieces in them so we can communicate easier

but no one without an earpiece can hear what we say. One day, while my manager was on a

ladder stocking things, I got bored and asked her a question. I used my walkie and asked her a

question to which she responded, “I have no idea.” After about a minute, a woman storms up to

me and starts yelling that she wants to talk to a manager right now and how she has never

encountered such terrible service before. I ask my manager to come up and while she is coming

to the front, this woman keeps going on about how she is never going to shop here again and

how mad she is. When my manager comes over, the woman says that she had asked my manager

a question to which she had replied “I have no idea.” It took me a second but I realized that the

phrase that the woman thought was aimed at her was just my manager responding to my

question. I quickly told the woman the mistake and my manager agreed saying that she didn’t

even hear the woman behind her since she was on a ladder. The happy ending to the story was

that the woman was very remorseful and made sure to apologize several times.

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Party City has many more antics but these were just a few. I really miss working there

sometimes. Especially now that I don’t have a job, I miss getting paid but it’s more than that.

The crazy people that I had to deal with were met with wonderful people that were so nice and

would make my day.

Generation Gap

“So, you type in facebook.com, you log in, then your homepage will pop up,” I stated.

“Home page?” she responded with a confused look on her face.

“Yeah, it’s the first page that comes up when you log in. This is where you see what

everyone is posting. Now, for some reason, when you comment on a picture, your email address

and name is appearing after the comment. I’ll see if I can fix that.”

She nods as I pull up the Facebook settings and look. I looked at everything from her

privacy settings to her account settings. Everything seemed to be normal when I realized what

the problem might be.

“Grandma, have you been typing your email address and name after everything you

post?”

“Well, yeah. I thought that’s what you’re supposed to do.”

I tried my hardest not to laugh or roll my eyes at her. It was so weird for me to hear her say that

because I just thought that everybody could figure Facebook out but I forgot that older people

don’t really know what they’re doing.

I then told my grandma, “No grandma. You don’t have to put your information out there.

Actually, you don’t want to put it out there because random people could email you.”

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“Oh…Well, thanks. You’re so smart.”

I just smiled and told her that I would continue lessons another day.

Inked

I feel like tattoos are becoming super huge with young people now. Heck, I even have a

tattoo and I never thought that I would have one. Tattoos are becoming more popular because I

think people are more creative and want ways to show that. As for my tattoo, I wanted a way to

show my love of someone.

When I decided I wanted a tattoo, one of the hardest parts was deciding what I actually

wanted. I actually was going to get something musical because of how much music has been a

part of my life. I would’ve gotten it too but you had to be eighteen, even with a parent’s

signature. So, I waited another year and in that year, I completely changed my mind. I guess it

was a good thing that I had to wait a year.

I knew when I wanted to get it. As a graduation present, my mom agreed to go to

Asheville, North Carolina, our favorite place, and vacation with me for a few days. I was so

excited and knew that I wanted my first tattoo to be in a special place and Asheville seemed

perfect. Plus, they are known for their artsy scene and I knew that there would be some great

tattoo artists there.

As for what I wanted to get, I am on Pinterest a lot and actually found the idea on there. It

was a person whose parent’s had died so they used an old birthday card and had their parents

signatures tattooed on them. Well, I knew my mom wasn’t dead but she said that she would write

Love, Mom, which is what she puts at the end of all her notes, and I would get that. I knew that I

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wanted something special for my tattoo and I knew that it would be perfect because my mom and

I have such a great relationship and it was a celebration of that and the trip that we were taking

together. As for placement, I decided to go for my wrist because it looked good and the sizing

looked right.

When we got to Asheville, I was kind of nervous because I really was going to go

through with it. My first tattoo was nerve wracking because people often talk about how much

they hurt and I don’t really do well with pain. Plus, different people tell you different things. So

while I had one person telling me it wasn’t too bad, I would have someone tell me that it really

hurts but it’s worth it in the end. I feel that pain is often something that people worry about when

getting a tattoo so at least it wasn’t an irrational fear.

When we decided which shop to get it in, we walked in and it looked really nice. The

walls were red with the normal tattoo charts on the walls where someone could walk up and pick

one. I was still really nervous but I was also excited. The people there were so nice and that

helped too. The one thing that really calmed me down though was that they had the Harry Potter

soundtrack playing in the background. It’s funny looking back but that really calmed me down.

Going into the room was fine. It was a professional room and there were lots of things to

look at which was good because I liked distractions. After we took a couple of minutes to place

the stencil of the tattoo, he started the needle and went at it. At first, it didn’t really hurt. Plus, my

mom was there talking to me and making me laugh, which helped. It started hurting a bit more in

the end but it only took about ten minutes. The end result was beautiful. I was so happy with it

and how much it meant to me.

Overall, I’m glad I got the tattoo. It is a physical testament to how much I love my mom

and how much she means to me. It was such a special experience and everyone was right; despite

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the pain, it was totally worth it in the end. I still only have one tattoo to this day but I’m starting

to get the itch again and know I will be adding more soon.

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Poems Draft

Average is GreatThe life was good. Drinking wine, hot-air ballooning, no worries. He ponders his old life and sits on the filthy curb. People walk pastGiving him stares as dirty as his clothes. Had he only known, he could’ve prepared, But He Didn’t. He gets up and looks for a place to sleep. He had a permanent place under a bridge before the pigeons invaded. He hates pigeons. On the ground, a lottery ticket winks at him. He picks it up and dreams about a new life. Modest home, Warm bed, Hot shower. Never would he be selfish for Anything. He opens his eyes The gas station attendant stares at him in awe and says that he’s won.

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Daydreams

I am plainPlain as dayMy rough, brown exterior isn’t appealingWishing I could be an apple right about nowIt’s bright, red flesh reflecting the sunWhile it’s hanging from a beautiful treeWhere am I?DirtGross, dirtEw, a worm just touched me!Stay calmThis is only temporaryI daydream about getting out of this dirtI’ve heard the stories, rumors actuallyThey help me stay positiveI have so much potentialI don’t know why anyone would want me thoughPlainPlain as dayBut I hope for a day those rumors come trueWhat will I become?Baked, fried, sautéedTater tots, french fries, au gratinMy dream is to go to this place called McDonaldsNever been there but I’ve heard it’s greatBut for right now, I’m stuckWhere am I?DirtGross dirtSitting hereRight nowI’m plainPlain as dayBut I can dream

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Description

Sadness pours down the riverThe blue of her dress glistensIt shouts loudly for all to hear

Jealousy crackles in the Arizona heatCovered in glitter

“Look at me now,” it whispers

Ugliness covers the worldWearing the clothes of a martyr

Walking and infecting everyone in its path

My Paradise

Hidden in a lush forest so greenA special place that is so serene

A place where the wind rustles your hairWhere butterflies soar from here to there

Where sitting by the creek, its water so blueMakes emotions stir that are brand new

Almost no sound you’ll hear but nature so cleanYou almost feel like you’re a part of a dream

A special place kept for those who need peaceWhere stresses and problems and worries release

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I Feel

I feel isolated from my peers.

I feel obese when I eat that extra chip.

I feel like I am not perfect.

I feel the closest to my family.

I feel unsure about my future.

I feel like I need to decide my life plans this second.

I feel like I’m starting over.

I feel the need to cuddle my dogs.

I feel that my calling is waiting to be discovered.

I feel like I want to travel.

I feel my obsession with my T.V. shows.

I feel lazy when dressing for class.

I feel regretful when I don’t dress nice for said class.

I feel my future approaching quickly.

I feel my mind becoming stronger.

I feel the world changing in front of my eyes.

I feel as if I’m a part of history.

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Fiction Draft

Survivor

One year. It’s been one year since the accident that took Sarah’s sight. Being a twenty

year old and having no sight makes it difficult. It’s been a blur for her since it happened so on

this one year anniversary she sits and processes the whole thing.

She thinks about the accident. Of course it would be on the fourth of July, a day meant

for fun and beauty. The firework went off before she had time to move away. She remembers a

bright flash of light then blackness. The weeks in the hospital were especially awful. Weeks of

many doctors coming in and telling her the terrible things that happened and how they weren’t

fixable.

She doesn’t want to think about it anymore. Instead, she takes a moment just to listen and

feel. She’s good at that now. She hears the soft babble of a nearby fountain and footsteps come

near and then pass as quickly as they came. She felt a small breeze tickle her arms before hearing

it travel to the tress, rustling the leaves.

Recollecting her life since the accident didn’t happen often but she didn’t know why.

There was nothing wrong with her life. She didn’t lose any friends since it happened and she had

even gone on some dates. Sure, things were harder but she knew she would be fine. As the sun

came out of the clouds and shined on her face, a smile crept on her lips and greeted it.

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Details

There was something about the way he looked at me. Sure, I had boyfriends before but nothing

like this. I often catch him looking at me when I’m not paying attention. It’s almost like we’re in

a cheesy Disney movie and I feel like we should break out into song at any moment as we ride

off into the sunset. It sounds stupid out loud, but I’ve never had that kind of relationship. I look

into his eyes and we just stare at each other and I start to notice things about him that I’d never

even noticed.

I first look at his hair; the light brown color has streaks of blonde in it that curls slightly

and runs down to the start of his neck. His face is stunningly gorgeous. He’s the kind of gorgeous

that makes me so insecure when we stand side-by-side but, when I talk to him about it, he

strongly denies it and argues the opposite. His eyebrows curve perfectly and match the color of

his hair. His eyes are grey-blue and make me feel like I’m swimming in his soul when I look into

them. I make my way down to his cheeks, lips, chin; all of them beautiful in their own way. I

look at his arms and hands, so strong but gentle at the same time. I notice a small scar on his

hand and remember how he told me that he got a fishing hook caught on that hand when he was

ten. I quickly skim the rest of his being before I realize he has been looking at me the whole time

I had been looking at him. Part of me knows that this should be awkward, us looking at one

another for so long, but it isn’t. It’s somewhat comforting. I close my eyes and just lie next to

him and I wonder if he is thinking the same thing about me. I like to believe so.

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Mischief

“Come with me,” he said, in that tender voice that I had grown to love. He squatted down low,

almost so low that I wasn’t sure he was going to be able to get back up. He turned and looked at

me and I saw that glimmer in his eye which meant he was up to something. Grandpa had gotten a

little less active as he got older but he never lost the urge to pull pranks on people.

We slowly crept into the kitchen, trying not to make my mother aware of our plan. She

was upstairs folding laundry but would be back down any minute. I looked at my grandpa with a

curious look, anticipating what he had in mind. “Grab the diet coke bottle in the fridge,” he

whispered. He then held a finger to his lips, indicating me to stay silent. I tip-toe to the fridge and

do as I was told. When I return, there is a needle, thread, scissors, and one single mento lying on

the counter. I set the beverage on the counter and he goes to work.

I watch his old, but steady fingers thread the needle before the takes the mento and sticks

the needle through its center. I’m confused at first, but I know not to question. He indicates that

he wants me wants me to open the pop cap and I do so. He takes the threaded mento and places it

in top of the spout and closes the lid. The thread holds the mento in place and the extra thread

pokes out of the cap. He takes the scissors and cuts off the excess thread, leaving the bottle free

of any hints that it has been tampered with. He points to the fridge and I know to take the bottle

back to its home.

I follow him back into the living room where we proceed to sit on the couch and continue

watching some show about elephants. Grandpa turns to me, winks, and says, “Now, we wait.”

We do as he says and soon we hear the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. It takes

everything in me not to start giggling as I hear my mother open the fridge. After about 5 seconds,

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we hear a fizzing sound and my mother scream. I turn to my grandpa and we bust up laughing. I

swear, we laughed for ten minutes straight. I’m glad I don’t have a boring grandpa.

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Non-Fiction Draft

Retail Problems

Party City had become my home for the past few months. I mean, it was my first job so

of course I was going to become a bit attached to it. Whenever I had to work, I dreaded going in

but now that I think about it, I could’ve had a much worse job. Plus, I had seen so many crazy

things, how could I hate it? Well, other than it reinforcing my hatred of the general population

but that was given with any job because in every job, you have to deal with dumb people.

One of the first incidents that I remember happening started with me walking around the

store, recovering some merchandise. This large black woman walks up to me and states, “Where

is ya’lls Hello Kitty stuff?! I know you got it!” Of course, as a new employee, barely knowing

where anything was, I was unsure but I was not about to tell her that I didn’t know. I’ll be darned

if I didn’t take her right to the aisle it was in. I was pretty proud of myself.

Another woman once came in with her two young children and was buying stuff for a

Tinkerbell party. She was checking out when she told her daughter to go over to the clearance

box and grab some more jump ropes. While the mother was talking to me, she would

periodically turn around and scream at the little girl to hurry up and bring the things over. After

yelling at her, she would turn back around and talk to me in the sweetest voice ever. I felt like I

was talking to a bipolar dragon. It was so weird that she was so mean to her child. Working in

retail has made me realize that I could have a child today and be a better parent, as a 20 year old,

than most 30 year old parents.

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One time, an older black gentleman came up to the counter and said that he wanted a

balloon. Just a single balloon. He then proceeded to talk to another woman at the counter,

ignoring all questions that I asked him. So, at this point, I just blew up his balloon so that he

would be happy. He takes the balloon and leaves. Not five minutes later, he comes back in and

tells me that the balloon flew out of his car and that he needed another one. Of course, my

internal reaction is “You shouldn’t have let go of a balloon.” But, as politely as possible, I

offered him a balloon weight that would hold it down for him and he then mumbled for ten

minutes that I should’ve offered him that when he first came in. Of course I didn’t say anything

about how I tried but he was too busy babbling to someone to listen to me. So, I blew up a new

balloon, put it on the weight, and gave it to him, hoping that this one didn’t decide to run away

from him.

Generation Gap

“So, you type in facebook.com, you log in, then your homepage will pop up,” I stated.

“Home page?” she responded with a confused look on her face.

“Yeah, it’s the first page that comes up when you log in. This is where you see what

everyone is posting. Now, for some reason, when you comment on a picture, your email address

and name is appearing after the comment. I’ll see if I can fix that.”

She nods as I pull up the Facebook settings and look. Everything seemed to be normal

when I realized what the problem might be.

“Grandma, have you been typing your email address and name after everything you

post?”

“Well, yeah. I thought that’s what you’re supposed to do.”

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Poems Revision Essay

In my English class, I wrote three poems to be read and reviewed by my peers. During

the workshop, they gave me some good feedback that is going to make my poems sound even

better. Their points of views were greatly needed to provide a fresh perspective to my work. I

really hope that I was able to help them improve their poems like they did with mine. Their

feedback helped me to realize that I needed to change the beginning of my poem “Average is

Great, think about some different titles, and to generally expand my poems.

The first thing that I decided needed to be changed was the beginning of my poem

“Average is Great.” This was the most common thing that people had to say about my poems. It

was said multiple times that people were somewhat confused as to what was going on. I feel that

this was a very important thing to change because the beginning of the poem establishes the rest

of the poem and is the inspiration for the title. In my first draft, the original lines were,

“The life was good. Drinking wine, hot-air ballooning, no worries. He ponders his old life and sits on the filthy curb.”

The point of the poem is to show how a rich man goes from rich to homeless to middle class. I

felt that the way to fix this confusion was to add more lines of description. After editing, this is

what I came up with:

“The life was good. Drinking wine, hot-air ballooning, no worries. Endless money, meeting people, dinner parties.Along with money came selfishness, greed, and eventually hard times.He ponders his old life as a CEO and sits on the filthy curb.”

The other thing that what said that I could change was the titles of my works. One of my

works was called “Daydreams.” I originally titled it that because the poem is about a potato

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daydreaming about being used as food and getting out of the dirt. One interesting point that one

of my classmates brought up is that the title seems too broad and didn’t fit the poem. After

looking at it, I really agreed. I then came up with the title “Underground Daydreams,” which that

student said was really good and fit really well with the poem.

Lastly, while it is something that I felt needed to be done versus what my peers say, I

want to expand my poems some more and make them better. This also includes adding two more

poems so that I have a total of five poems that I need for my portfolio. Also, the last poem that I

did called “Details” can easily be added upon. Since it is only three lines per stanza, I feel that I

can come up with some more good stanzas that add to the poem.

After having a poem workshop, I’m happy to have some really good people to

review my work because they helped me quite a bit. Their feedback helped me to realize that I

needed to change the beginning of my poem “Average is Great, think about some different titles,

and to generally expand my poems. I think that my pieces have improved greatly because of the

feedback. One thing that I think was hard about this workshop though was the fact that it was a

poem workshop. I felt the need to keep telling all of my group members that I was sorry that I

didn’t have more feedback because I didn’t have as many criticisms with their poems versus

their fiction and non-fiction pieces. That is the good and bad thing with poetry. Poetry is a very

creative form of writing that has few, if any rules, that always need to be followed with every

poem. That is why this workshop was so difficult but I am still glad that I was able to get some

feedback to help me with my works.

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Fiction Revision Essay

For class, I wrote a couple of pieces of fiction to be reviewed by my peers. During the

workshop, they gave me great feedback that is going to make my story even better. Their points

of views were greatly needed to provide a fresh perspective to my work. I really hope that I was

able to help them with their work as well. Their feedback helped me to realize that I needed to

add more detail, make the endings not as rushed, and that there needed to be more emotion in my

story to make it relatable.

The first point that my peers made was that I could add some more detail in places. This

was mostly said for the first story that I submitted, Survivor. In the story, I wrote about how she

became blind in a fireworks accident. I wrote, “She thinks about the accident. Of course it would

be on the fourth of July, a day meant for fun and beauty. The firework went off before she had

time to move away. She remembers a bright flash of light then blackness. The weeks in the

hospital were especially awful. Weeks of many doctors coming in and telling her the terrible

things that happened and how they weren’t fixable.” I do understand where my peers were

coming from. Now that I’ve re-read it, I do understand how it might feel rushed. I haven’t

decided if I want to change it or not though. I feel like my character wouldn’t want to focus on

the past and how awful that accident was. I believe I can make a compromise and mention

something about how she doesn’t want to remember the accident or that she can’t remember

more so that the reader understands why there isn’t more written.

The next thing that my group members told me I should do is to change the endings of

both of my stories so that they don’t seem rushed. My story Survivor ends these couple of

sentences, “Recollecting her life since the accident didn’t happen. There was nothing wrong with

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her life. She didn’t lose any friends since it happened and she had even gone on some dates.

Sure, things were harder but she knew she would be fine. As the sun came out of the clouds and

shined on her face, a smile crept on her lips and greeted it.” I do believe that this can be worked

on because it does end abruptly but I don’t think I will add a whole lot more because the whole

point of the story is that she still has a normal life and that she is still happy. I also feel like this

story isn’t supposed to be very long because it takes place in the few minutes that she is sitting

on a bench. My other story got the same critique but it wasn’t as prominent as it was in the

Survivor story.

Lastly, my group mates said that my stories needed some more emotion; mostly with my

second story Details. It’s about a girl lying next to her boyfriend and taking a moment to look at

every little detail about him that she doesn’t normally notice. This observation from my peers

was kind of upsetting to me because, when I read the story, I see plenty of emotion because I am

thinking about my own experiences and the emotion I felt when I look at someone as a whole. In

my story, I say, “His face is stunningly gorgeous. He’s the kind of gorgeous that makes me so

insecure when we stand side-by-side but, when I talk to him about it, he strongly denies it and

argues the opposite. His eyebrows curve perfectly and match the color of his hair. His eyes are

grey-blue and make me feel like I’m swimming in his soul when I look into them. I make my

way down to his cheeks, lips, chin; all of them beautiful in their own way.” I believe that the way

I can convey more emotion is to maybe talk more about the personality traits that my character

notices instead of just physical. I think that maybe just noticing physical things might make the

reader believe that the character is shallow.

Overall, I’m happy to have some great people to review my work because they

helped me quite a bit. Their feedback helped me to realize that I needed to add more detail, make

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the endings not as rushed, and that there needed to be more emotion in my story to make it

relatable. I think that my pieces have improved greatly now because of the feedback. While I

may be writing fiction, I put my own experiences and emotions into my stories and I hope

readers are able to see that and enjoy my works.

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Non-Fiction Revision Essay

For class, I was required to write a piece of creative non-fiction to be reviewed by my

peers. During the workshop, they gave me great feedback that is going to make my story even

better than if I were to do it myself. I really hope that I was able to help them as well. Their

feedback helped me to realize that I needed to add more detail, tweak some of my wording, and

that most of my work doesn’t need to be changed.

Overall, I really liked having other review my work. They had lots of great thing to say

about my piece and I plan to integrate their comments into my work. One of the biggest things

that needed to be changed was my use of descriptions. While some commented that I was very

descriptive in my piece, others wanted to see more. Since my piece was only four hundred

words, I decided that adding more detail was an easy way to add length and quality to my piece.

One example of this would be the end of my story. In my original draft, I wrote, “We do as he

says and soon we hear the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. It takes everything in me

not to start giggling as I hear my mother open the fridge. After about 5 seconds, we hear a

fizzing sound and my mother scream.” Some of my peers felt that this wasn’t descriptive enough

and I agreed so I decided to add more. After my revisions, this is what my paragraph became;

“We do as he says and soon we hear the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. In

anticipation, minutes feel like hours. It takes everything in me not to start giggling as I hear my

mother open the fridge. First we hear my mother walk around a bit and tidy up I suppose. It

becomes quiet for a millisecond before the sound of the refrigerator door creaking open hits my

ears. Then, we hear a fizzing sound we had been waiting for and my mother scream. I turn to my

grandpa and we bust up laughing. I swear, we laughed for ten minutes straight. My mother

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storms into the room, soaked with the liquid of our prank and just stands in silence. My

grandfather has a look of pure innocence as if he’s quietly been watching television this whole

time. My mother makes a grunting sound before turning and storming up the stairs.

One of the other comments that I received about my draft was quite surprising. One

person made a statement about my first couple sentences which were, ““Come with me,” he said,

in that tender voice that I had grown to love. He squatted down low, almost so low that I wasn’t

sure he was going to be able to get back up.” They said that they thought the story was going to

be about a couple instead of a grandpa/granddaughter relationship. When reading it again, I

understood how someone would make that mistake and decided to change it. I changed it to,

““Psst…Come with me,” my grandpa said, in that tender voice that I had grown to love.” This

way, I immediately put that it is the grandfather talking instead of leaving it open for people to

make their own assumptions.

Lastly, there were some other things that were said that I decided not to incorporate into

my revised work. One of the comments is that I should add more pranks into my story. I decided

not to do this because I actually did the assignment somewhat wrong. While I supposed to turn in

a piece of non-fiction and I accidently turned in a fiction piece. So, because of this, I have

decided that I am not going to add any more to this piece and insert it into my fiction section of

my portfolio. Since this is fiction, I would have to think of other pranks to write about and that

would be pretty awful because I am terrible at pranks so that is another reason I’m not going to

add more. I might add more description to what I have now but not more material.

Overall, I’m happy to have some intelligent people to review my work because they

helped me quite a bit. Their feedback helped me to realize that I needed to add more detail,

tweak some of my wording, and that most of my work doesn’t need to be changed.

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I believe this piece is now pretty decent. While it may not be an actual story from my life, the

people that read it did say that they related to it and it made them think about their grandparents,

which is a successful story in my book.