PEER REVIEWS 04-26

Miranda: The Blank blog in which you wrote about your interaction with a “Christian” friend was really good. I really enjoyed your comparisons with a mountain, especially the sentence, “Strangely enough, this mountain recently became a Kilimanjaro of sorts, involving a friend.” I thought it was a nice way to foreshadow the dialogue that followed in the next paragraph. The dialogue seemed effortless on your part, and easy to follow as a reader. I even enjoyed the part after the ---click--- which you told us you had never really hung up on someone before. It gave us a better understanding of how irritated you must have been. I know I would have been frustrated. “Sensational” as one paragraph was a perfect choice. By using just one paragraph I was given the impression of how you might talk to someone about glitter, not stopping for air till it was necessary, just babbling on about the wonders of glitter. I felt that was a perfect fit with how excited you seem to be about glitter.

Matt: “The Day I Lost Faith in Company Loyalty” left me thinking…”dun dun dun…” That sucks that after the whole big speech about not laying off employees, they still had to lay you off. On the bright side, the way you wrote about it painted a clear picture of how everything happened. From the beginning speech I knew a lay-off was coming. It was like a clear foreshadowing of what was to come. By the way, I know I have mentioned this in previous peer reviews, but the ease you have at switching from dialogue to narration is unbelievable. You have a great gift for fluidity in your writing. The only critique I could give you are just reread what you write because there were a few typos and repeated words. Other then that awesome job! “What Can I Say? I am My Father’s Son” was very descriptive with all of the comparisons you made. I really enjoyed how the story began from a younger boy’s perspective with tonka trucks and what not to an young man’s perspective to an adult’s perspective. I felt like you took us through a timeline from your perspective through your writing and there is nothing that I could critique about that. Awesome story.

Prompt 50: Lightbulb

     I grew up attending a private Christian school in which the curriculum was extraordinary and the preaching of religion was over the top.  From third grade till I graduated the eighth grade, I came to class pledging allegiance to the American flag, the Christian flag, and the Bible. Each morning began with Bible study in which we were required to memorize random facts about the forty men of God in the Bible and various scriptures that would pertain to the week’s lecture. Then on Thursdays we would sit through a religious service where complete strangers would preach to us the importance of reverence and whatever God had put in their hearts to say. Which, ironically as I grew older more and more often pertained to abstaining from sex and drugs then anything else.  So as any cult can testify, the more a listener is forced to listen to the same sermon, the more that person will absorb, and as being a child I was an easy target to prey on.

   Soon, as the years progressed, I started to believe in the hypnosis. I started to believe that there was one God, that he had a son, born to the Virgin Mary, who died and was resurrected and then rose into Heaven, where he now sits at the right hand of the Father, and who will return to Earth to take his followers with Him. I believed that cohabitation and sex before marriage was a sin, and swearing was out of the question. I believed that drugs were for the unholy, and that sinners went to hell regardless of whether or not they meant to be bad people. I even began to question whether listening to certain music was a sin, like in the movie, “Footloose,” with Kevin Bacon. I was preached at so frequently that I even began thinking that if I did not attend church services three times a week that I was sinning.

   So for the six years that I attended that Christian school, I was under the impression that everything was bad except those attending the school or church…and then I graduated. I was released to attend public high school where I was expecting to be cornered by drug dealers when I walked onto the campus and where young pregnant teens made out with their baby’s daddy in the hallways. Boy, was it a shock to see that none of that actually happened. Soon, I began to understand that pretty much all that malarkey that was crammed down my neck for the past six years was just a bunch of B.S. Don’t get me wrong, though, I still believe in a higher power, I just don’t think that everyone who sins will go to hell or that music, cohabitation, or protected sex before marriage qualifies as a ticket to hell.

  As a student at that private school, we weren’t taught to think out of the box of religion, we weren’t given the freedom to question what was being taught, or even the opportunity to find things out for ourselves. We were given instruction, discipline, and “their” way of life. To them, there was only “their” way or no way. I am just glad that they did not extend their curriculum into high school or I might not have been able to escape the spell they put me under. And thank God for that. (No sarcasm implied)

Peer Reviews 04-19

Matt: “Over the Road OCD” really opened my eyes into the world of truckers. I had no idea that there was so much attention to detail in that occupation. Through all the details you provided, from the bookwork to the checking of the chains, I definitely became more aware of how much time and effort goes into the job. The only thing that I could find wrong was a couple missing words in particular sentences, but that’s an easy revision with just a little rereading. “Selling Storyboards” was a nice twist to the prompt at hand. I enjoyed the story that related yourself to the prompt and yet took it to a whole other level. When reading the prompt, I didn’t even think to write about an incidence, in which I found graphic novels and comics to be apart of my life, so what you wrote about, was very interesting. Besides the story, I really enjoyed what you had to say about “graphic novels,” and how they ruin the whole reading part. I definitely agree.

Miranda: “Welcome to Sundays” was a great story. I used to hang out at tattoo parlors and I actually started getting into piercing once I graduated high school so I know what you were talking about in the story. I remember that every tattoo and piercing place had keep a super clean area in order to be considered a sanitary environment for the piercings and such, so I can only imagine what it must be like as an employee. You did a great job of helping to visualize the scene as you lingered through the shift. Nice work! “Hit or Miss” really hit the point I was trying to make in my own blog. I totally agree that pictures can help the storyline, but they can also lead the reader to confusion. And, I also was thoroughly confused by “Blankets.” I think I would have better understood what the writer was trying to convey if he had actually written it out for us rather then just the drawings. Couldn’t have put the argument better.

Prompt 49: Hopefully I get an 'E' for Effort

 * I am really sorry that I wasn't quite sure how to do this prompt. Love some feedback on whether or not I did it somewhat right. Thanks! *

  

   I honestly don’t understand the difference between a “graphic novel” and a comic. I have always thought that a comic is a graphic novel, so what is a graphic novel? Is that a novel in which there is no writing, only pictures? Or is there writing, just not a whole lot? So since I do not know the difference, I will have to go off of my assumption that a graphic novel does not have very many words, but rather allows the drawings to speak for themselves. And if that is my assumption, then I would have to say that using a comic format is more effective for memoir writing than the graphic novels.

    I am a person who prefers to have an author describe something to me with words and pictures so that the story can be better understood. I feel that by having more pictures then words, the story line can be misinterpreted, and the author’s whole point for creating his/her piece go unnoticed. It’s kind of like the excerpt from Craig Thompson’s Blankets, there were more drawings then writing, and I got lost amongst the chaos. For the most part, I had no idea where the story was heading and how it was getting there. All that is memorable about the piece is that the drawings were much more detailed then the two previous comics we were asked to read.  It was much more enjoyable to read Miriam Engelberg’s Cancer Made Me a Shallower Person because she was so detailed in the descriptions of the art. In each of the comic squares, there were always more writing then pictures, and granted the stick figures she drew were not of the best quality, but at least the story she was telling had direction and understanding. She even subtitled sections just so the readers could follow along more smoothly.

   So maybe an incredibly visual person would prefer a memoir in “graphic novel” format, but I would rather read for myself the descriptions that set the scene of the comic. I guess it’s relative to the person.

Prompt 45: Extra Clean

  Have you ever had to clean something that was already clean? Seems pretty pointless to me, but nonetheless, I would drive thirty minutes every two weeks to clean a vacation home for which no one ever really visited. I was expected to spend hours scrubbing and vacuuming and dusting and washing linens that rarely got used.

Eventually after a couple weeks of figuring out the most efficient and easiest way of cleaning the house effectively and without too much strain, I designed my checklist. I would walk throughout the entire property in search of the obvious messes like dead bugs on the windowsills or water spots on the windows and tend to those first. Then I would check the bathrooms to make sure that the toilet paper ends were still folded in the triangular design that I had left them in the last time I was there. If the toilet paper hadn’t been touched, it was a sure sign that the toilet must also not been touched; therefore, a quick wipe down of that area would suffice. For the mysterious dead bugs that I would always find on every windowsill, I would get out the mini vacuum and suck the little buggers up. So after all the eye-sores were demolished, I would then start with the routine cleaning, such as, dusting the lamp shades and book shelves, scrubbing the kitchen counters and polishing the stainless-steel sinks so that no water spots could be seen, then wiping down the white floor boards because some people don’t understand how ugly floor boards can get after a guest party has leaned up against them with their dirty shoes. With still a couple hours to go, I would have to run the washer machine on “sanitary” because the well water had once been contaminated with sulfur, so if it doesn’t get run and the owners come to stay for the weekend, their clothes would smell horrid. To finish off the checklist, I end in the downstairs garage with vacuuming the cobwebs and sweeping out the various leaves and such that manage to be tracked in from wet tires.  

The job seems tedious and a lot over the top, however, for the few hours I spend cleaning what’s already clean, the wages really aren’t too shabby. It might not make much sense to clean a house twice a month that no one lives in, but it’s an easy job that pays well, so I really shouldn’t complain.

Peer Review 04-12

 Matt: Sorry for the writers’ block. Totally know what that feels like.

Miranda: “New Job of  a Lifetime” – Great job on not including yourself as an “I” in the subject. I like all of the descriptions that you give about the group of co-workers; it definitely paints a relatable picture. I especially like how you compare the group of workers to a second family because I can totally relate to that. I work with a bunch of people, who even after a few months have already made me feel like apart of their clan or “family” as you put it, so good work on the first blog! The only thing I’m curious about, is what do the workers do together? Like what is their job? You give us all the details about coworkers but then don’t tell us if they are salespeople or servers or office workers, so it just left me wondering.   “Happiness and Health” was a great blog. I really enjoyed how you began the blog with the first paragraph describing you and your friends eating and then the second blog goes into your deeper thoughts. It was a very creative way to set the stage and then expand. Great job!

Nicola: No blogs.

Prompt 43: Accusations of the Ignorant

   I attended a private Christian school from elementary to junior high school in which my graduating class consisted of a measly twelve students, where girls made up the majority. I don’t know if it was just because there weren’t many students or because we didn’t have an escape from the estrogen, but the girls were not exactly the nicest to each other. It wasn’t like we didn’t get along most of the time, but when we did argue, it was like a World War III was commencing. The main leaders would take their stand and the remaining girls would have to choose sides.

     One weekend, during February of the fifth grade, Cherie decided to have a slumber party to celebrate her birthday.  Every girl from our class was invited to attend, so it was anticipated to be a huge party. All of my best friends were expected to be there like Brittany, Rachel, and Dana, but my ex-best friend, Zay, whom I had a falling out with earlier in the month, was also going to be there. Zay and I had been best friends since the third grade when we collided into each other on the playground, however, ever since we started learning about Segregation among Blacks and Whites, she started treating me differently. I am of European descent whereas Zay is from African descent, so you can see where she might have gotten the idea during Black History Month that we shouldn’t be friends any more.

  Well, on the night of Cherie’s slumber party, my mom dropped me off with every intention of picking me up the next morning; however, an unexpected battle shortly began minutes after my arrival. I walked through the door of Cherie’s house, and was immediately hit with one of Zay’s new accusations. This time, I was accused of being racist because I thought it would be more fun to camp out in the family room then outside in the tents where a friendly skunk was making a new home for itself. I knew then as I know now that I am nowhere close to being a racist, so I challenged her accusations by saying, “It’s not the color of skin that I have a problem with, it’s your attitude.” I think I also added, “You need to come up with a better excuse for using such prejudicial language. Just because I’m white, doesn’t make me a racist.” I called my mom shortly afterwards and had her pick me up from the house. It was not worth my time to be called such nasty words by a person who really didn’t know the implications she was making.

Prompt 42: Monastery People

I had a pretty hard time with this blog for some reason. It was difficult not to include myself into the subject, so bare with me on this one. Thanks!

  There is a fairly common place where a diverse group of people can gather and mingle according to each individual’s comfort zone. It is a place in which a person could choose to drink or eat or just sit back and relax while listening to a live band play. This place is known as The Monastery.   The Monastery is a bar in East Mesa that was created by a group of some-what fraternity brothers who decided that they wanted a place to hang out and party and not have to clean up after themselves, so they became investors in a bar to fulfill their aspirations. Today, forty-some odd years later, The Monastery is still the place to go out and party with friends and interact with a wide range of intellectuals.

    For the majority of bars I think it is safe to say that when there’s a theme, there is also a type of people who tend to gravitate towards that particular bar. For instance, Toby Keith’s I Love This Bar, is a country themed bar and for the most part, if a person were to go to that bar, they would find the majority of customers were either country lovers or actual cowboys. On Mill, the main theme revolves around the location of being close to Arizona State University, so the majority is college students; however, at the Monastery, the theme is to party and not have to clean up after yourself, so there tends to not be a majority but various clans of minorities. During certain seasons, “Snow Birds” can be found lounging on the patio area, shirtless college boys can be seen playing competitive volleyball, Harley Davidson bikers might be kickin’ it by the outside bar, and there may even be Mr. and Mrs. Clause getting married in the gazebo towards the edge of the property. (Which actually did happen) You never know whom you might see at The Monastery.

    The best part about this bar is probably the ability to socialize with the various groups of people without feeling awkward. The atmosphere that surrounds each person is not one of judgment or dominance, but rather a sense of friendliness and openness. Due to the occasional wandering volleyball that may sore through the air and peg someone in the head, customers tend to be prepared for the worst and therefore show no animosity when the worst does occur.  People just don’t come to the Monastery looking for trouble; if anything, it is the complete opposite. Most people come to the Monastery to avoid trouble and therefore it creates a homely feeling of relaxation and comfort.

    So if anyone is in the mood to take it easy and feels up to socializing with random people, The Monastery could be the perfect place to do so.  

 

Peer Reviews 04-05

Matt: I’m sure once Prompt 34 is expanded on it will turn out great. Can’t wait to read more of it. For your story, “Reflections of a Once and Former Randian,” I found it be a very powerful piece. I especially enjoyed the last paragraph where you came to the conclusion that the rich didn’t need the tax breaks because they were already doing everything in their power to keep what little money is left in their own hands. The sentence, “Just like Galt and his followers, our modern day equivalents thought the world needed them more than they needed the world,” was a great way to tie in John Galt’s story and the modern elitists. I was thinking you could have written about the politics of the rich and tax cuts for the persuasive blog as well since your stance on the subject becomes very clear in this blog. The only thing that really caught my attention while reading your blog was the repetition of “elite” which maybe other synonyms could have also sufficed so that it didn’t seem like the same word was being repeated over and over again; however, if there was an intention to the repetition then scratch what I just said.

Miranda: “You’re the Boss, Applesauce,” was a great insight into how you feel about an idol that seriously disappointed you. I don’t know much about Andy Warhol, but through your story, I already don’t like him myself. You did a great job taking us through the steps of first introducing the idol and then explaining how he eventually disappointed you. In the first paragraph when you talked about “The Factory” I was expecting Rob and Big from MTV being your icon, but I was happy to find out your icon had a deeper meaning to you.  If there was anything that I could suggest about your blog, is that I would have liked to known more about what “the factory” really is and who Edie Sedgwick is. I really don’t know anything about artists so giving a little background on what happened to Edie and what actions Warhol really had on her would have been an interesting to read about.

Nicola: Sorry we missed you again this week. Hope you’re doing well!  

Prompt 37 Variation: Short-lived Idol

  My family consists of huge groups of baseball fanatics, and as a young girl, I was in love with Kirby Puckett from the Minnesota Twins.  I used to run around the house all day long and yell out, “K.irby….Buckett!” just because I didn’t know any better that the baseball player’s actual last name was Puckett, not Buckett. Plus, my parents thought it was adorable that I couldn’t get the name right, so that only encouraged me to continue spouting out the wrong name.  Eventually as time progressed and my ability to read got even stronger, I would rent books from the library or actually buy biographical books on Kirby. I was head-over-heels for a guy that I really didn’t know much about, and considered him to be my baseball idol.

   I even remember one time my dad got the two of us tickets to wait in line at a baseball signing, just so I could get up close and personal and have Kirby autograph a baseball for me. I was so excited and so nervous while waiting in line, and even when I got an arm’s length apart from him, I clammed up and wasn’t even able to speak much to him. That was a day that was unforgettable for me.

   Unfortunately though, Kirby Puckett did not stay on the Minnesota Twins forever, and was forced to retire due to losing vision in one eye because of Glaucoma, which then led to his self-destruction. In 2002, Puckett began letting himself go and acting out inappropriate ways. There were claims that he had assaulted a woman in a restroom while out to dinner, and he was then charged with false imprisonment, sexual misconduct, and assault. I remember hearing on the news how the newly retired nominee for the Baseball Hall of Fame was arrested for all the misdemeanors and felony, and I was shocked. I couldn’t believe that my favorite baseball player, who I had been rooting for all those years, had turned into such a monster. Soon, when people would ask what baseball team I liked the most, or what my favorite baseball player was, I would say, “Kirby Puckett before he went all looney.” 

    After Kirby, I really didn’t idolize any other famous person. It wasn’t because Kirby made me lose faith in celebrities, it’s more because after hearing what Kirby Puckett did or supposedly did, I just started realizing all those famous people are human too, so what’s the point in idolizing them? And I try not to remember Kirby Puckett as the low-life he became after his baseball career, but rather as the baseball star so many fans loved and enjoyed watching.  Plus, what would be the point? He died two years after being acquitted on those charges, so it’s not like he lived very much longer to inflict more suffering. So I would rather remember him as Kirby… Buckett then as the possible Kirby Puckett convict.

Prompt 34: Yummy Goodness

  I started working part-time at a bar in East Mesa, and almost every Monday night, once the bar closes and the employees are free to leave, we get into our cars and putt our way down a few blocks to AppleBee’s where we sit in their bar until closing. Now, I am not a beer kind of girl and I prefer to drink the slushier kinds of alcoholic beverages, but I’m not a huge margarita fan nor do I have much knowledge about any other drinks, so I decided to confide in a person who I thought would be an expert on the subject, the bartender herself. Once I found my seat at the bar, I called over Jenny (the usual bartender), “So I want a slushy drink but not a margarita. What can you make me that tastes amazing and is also blended?” She takes a moment to think with one hand on her forehead and the other on her hip and begins to concoct something in her head. Then her eyes light up, and she says, “I know the perfect drink! Give me one second.” So I watch as she begins to formulate my delicious drink, trying to keep track of the multiple ingredients being thrown into the blender. Eventually, I give up, and decide to just ask her for the recipe once she finishes. In just a few moments later, Jenny walks over with a massive pink slushy drink with a strawberry on the rim. She stands in front of me as I take my first sip…”Mmmm….tastes like sherbet!” Jenny looks relieved and excited that she made a drink from scratch that fit perfectly into my criteria. After consuming a few more sips, I clear my throat long enough to ask for the ingredients. “So Jenny what wonderful things did you put into this scrumptious drink of your’s?” Jenny looks back at the row of alcohol and flavors from which she drew her inspiration and replied, “Well, I took equal portions of sprite and lemonade, added a few pumps of raspberry syrup, a few pumps of strawberry syrup since raspberry can be a little weak in flavor, and then topped it off with vodka. Pretty simple once I figured out what to add together. So, it’s that good huh?” I nod enthusiastically and continue to consume the perhaps dangerous drink in front of me until I am forced to break due to an unbearable brain freeze.

Peer Reviews 03-29

Matt: I like the references like “Indiana Jones” and “Thelma and Louise.” It gives a nice visual and movies are almost always a safe bet when needing something to compare something else to. My favorite line in the first person perspective is, “The human inclination towards self preservation is putting up a fight against this action that seems downright suicidal.” It sounds so elegant and is something that I can relate to.  Your attention to detail with how you were feeling and how your friends were acting, I felt like I was on the cliff with you guys, watching as you hesitated to jump off and I liked the way the first perspective ended with you wanting to go again because that’s a classic feeling that can be related to. I also couldn’t help but laugh at the end of the third person perspective. It was so hilarious that South Point is the breeding grounds for sharks! And the way the story was told from a stranger’s perspective, not even paying much attention to you guys jumping into shark infested water is just too funny. I hope you guys knew what you were jumping into before actually jumping!  And I know I’m supposed to critique something, but I really enjoyed every bit of this blog, and there’s not one thing I would change.

Miranda: Prompt 29 really made me want to go jump in some rain puddles. I totally remember doing that as a little girl and having my grandparents or mom tell me to stop in case it causes me to catch a cold, but I love the visualizations and the idea behind it. It was such a cute piece and I like your metaphors of rain being like tiny kisses. It really brings out your personality in the writings. For the blog, “Gonna go with Uncomfortable,” my favorite line was the very last sentence which describes your most uncomfortable place as being as the one place you count on. I liked your descriptions that led up to that conclusion and I found that it really tied it all together. You did a great job with the details and I’m sorry to hear that your step-mom was so lousy, which by the way, I hate small fat statues too.

Nicola: Sorry we missed your writing this time! Look forward to the next time!

Prompt 33: Unsuspecting Awkward

   I’m not sure if most people would consider this place to be uncomfortable or even unusual, but for me this place always makes me feel the most self-conscious, the most anxious, and the most awkward. At first, I would voluntarily go there in an effort to increase my self-esteem, but eventually after several attempts at trying to remain unaware of my surroundings, it became a place I dreaded having to go into alone. The worst part is that while I would be inside this place, all I could think about were the people around me and if they were watching me and judging me, and in the beginning, I was embarrassed if my sweat showed through my shirts, or if my hair wagged like a horse’s tail as it bobbed from side to side, or if anyone could tell I hadn’t shaved my legs that day. I was constantly picking out my faults and running scenarios through my head of what the people surrounding me must be thinking. I couldn’t help but repeatedly check my sides for wandering eyes or quiet whispers, as I tried to keep myself from running like the wind out the door.

   The place I am describing might be a favorite place for some, it might even feel like their safe haven or place of release, but it’s never felt homely to me. The smell that radiates up from the floors reeks of mildew and sweat. Right as you walk in, there are wind-tunnel sounds and quick feet, there are sounds of running water and slurping, there is music echoing enthusiasm down the halls, there are words of encouragement and determination being shouted from a glass room lined with mirrors, and the sounds of dead weight being hammered to the floor. As I look around there is spandex galore, headphones a plenty, and wet skin everywhere. There are people of all different shapes and sizes, different skin tones and musculature, and different techniques. There are the cardio gurus, the juiceheads, and the New Year Resolutioners who make up the variety of members.

   The gym is my place of dread. It is the place where it does not matter how many people can go with me to workout, I still remain paranoid that I am being mentally persecuted for not being a healthier individual or for not being in the correct BMI range due to my genetic assets. I think it’s just the overall atmosphere of having well built athletes surrounding me for a couple hours as I struggle to overcome the minimum activities that the rest of them could do in their sleep with their hands tied behind their backs. Whatever the cause, the gym has this affect on me and it’s one I am trying to overpower to this day.  

Prompt 29: A Day at Out of Africa

The italicized is my nephew Landon’s perspective and the regular print is my thoughts.

  It’s Sunday morning and we are getting ready to take our nephew to Out of Africa for a safari ride. It will be Landon’s first time ever going to a zoo-like place so I can’t wait to see how he is going to respond when we get there. After grabbing a few blue-berry muffins, all of us load up into the jeep and head out to the freeway.

  Ahh…finally awake. I’m not quite sure where I’m at, but I see my mom and dad and some people I have been told are my auntie and uncle, so I guess I don’t need to freak out yet. I don’t know what we are doing today, but eww…doggy!!! There is this brown dog that keeps licking my face and a smaller dog that wags its tail in front of me. Okay puppies that’s enough. I can’t handle too much. I do get overwhelmed. So mom comes in the room and gets me into jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt. Then I get my DC shoes on which I think are totally rad and we head out into the kitchen where I get a muffin! I don’t know what it’s made out of but it’s delicious! Umm…yum..yum…yum. I get picked up and then we head out to the car…bummer…I hate being in that carseat…it’s so uncomfortable.

  It’s been an hour and a half in the car already and I am getting so anxious to get there. I drank an energy drink that Landon asked so politely to try, but I couldn’t give him any even though he did ask please. It’s so hard to say no to that face especially when he’s so polite. We have about a half hour left to go and I’m actually already feeling sleepy, so I think I might just take a quick power nap.

  Holy cow…where are we going? Where ever it is, it better be ridiculously awesome because my butt is starting to go numb and all I want to do is get out of this seat. Auntie Nynn just got a purplish drink and all I want is a tiny sip from it, but she won’t give me any. I even asked “peeeese..” with my best face I could give her and she still said no. I just want a drop…just a drop. I’m looking at her with my big brown eyes, trying to convince her to give some to me just because I’m so cute, but she looks like she is about to pass out. She looks even more tired than I do and I am the king of sleepiness. Maybe if I go to sleep too, she’ll give me some when we wake up.

   I feel the car jerk. I look out the window and see the sign with an arrow on it pointing towards the parking lot for Out of Africa. Finally, we have arrived. The car parks and I hear Justin and my brother, Bryce, making fun of Landon and me because we were sleeping for so long, but I don’t really mind the criticism because at least I feel more awake now. I look over at Landon and his eyes are wide-eyed, trying to look around his car seat to see where we are. He begins spouting out gibberish in excitement and asks to be picked up out of the car seat so he can get out and run around.

  Woah…my head bangs against the side of my car seat. Shoot. I hate it when that happens but I see a lion on a sign that we are just about to drive by and forget all about my head hurting. “Roar! I hope I get to see one up close!” I say out load but by the look on my Aunt’s face, I don’t think she understood what I just said. I know she’ll understand “up” so I yell it out hoping she’ll pick me up out of my seat. All I want to do is take a look around, look at where they’ve all taken me, and see what the big deal is about.

   We get out of the jeep, grab our packs, and try to keep up with Landon as he runs towards the entrance of the park. We call out to him to slow down, but he seems to be in a hurry, and we rush to catch up. We walk up to the Admissions’ booth to buy our tickets and decide to upgrade our package to the more private tour in which we get up close and personal to a giraffe and could possibly even touch one. That would be so exciting and I bet Landon would love it! So once we get our tickets, we head to the tram, which takes up the hill to where we load onto the next truck for our safari ride.

  Freedom!!! OoO…look at those posts with animals on them! They are so cool! I need to get closer! I look back at my family as if to notify them of my thoughts and then take off in the direction of the wooden animals. I hear my aunt’s footsteps following closely behind and soon I am swooped up into her arms. Haha…I love that feeling in my tummy when I am flown into the air. She then continues to carry me towards this glass window in which some lady behind the glass starts talking about random stuff. Sounds like gibberish to me; however, I do hear a few familiar words like “giraffe” and “zebra” and I can’t wait to see what’s coming next. All of sudden I am then whisked away and we get on this motor thing that takes up a dirt hill to another big yellow truck! “Vroom Vroom!” I love big trucks!

  We’re on the safari ride for only a few minutes and then we get to the area where the giraffe is located. I watch as Landon’s eyes light up and he yells in excitement. He is such a cutie, pointing at every animal he sees and then giggling. I’m so happy he loves where we are at. The vehicle stops next to the giraffe and we were given cookies at the beginning of the trip so that we could feed the giraffe, so we get Landon ready with cookie in hand, hoping to get the giraffe enticed enough to lick his whole hand. But as the giraffe gets closer, Landon’s lit face begins to fade into a more frightened look, and he turns into his mom as the giraffe sticks its head into the opening in the vehicle. His shyness unfortunately took over and he can’t help but be afraid of the giant animal slowly getting closer to him. I don’t blame him for being frightened, but it’s too bad he’ll miss his chance at being kissed by a giraffe.

   Woohoo!!! This is awesome! Bounce, bounce, bounce. This car is so bumpy, but it’s so much fun. I look around me…all my family looks like they are having a great time. They just keep looking at me and smiling so I know they are having as much fun as I am. All of a sudden the truck stops near this tall spotted animal. It’s so big! It looks so soft, but why does it keep getting closer? I reach for my mom’s sweater where I find a little bit of comfort, but then the big thing gets even closer. Auntie Nynn keeps saying, “Giraffe, giraffe” but I don’t know what that has to do with this thing coming closer. O gosh, it’s head is right in my face. It’s in my bubble! Too close! Too close! I turn my head into my mom. She’ll make it go away. She always protects me. Plus if she can’t get the thing to move away, dad is close too so he can handle it if it gets too out of control. I turn my head again and this time the thing is further away. Thank God. I can finally breathe again and wow! Look at the striped horses! They’re so pretty!

  Landon finally looks back out once the giraffe starts to walk away. All of sudden he catches a glimpse at the zebras standing to side of the truck and that excited grin begins to quickly reform across his face. What a cutie.

Peer Review After Spring Break!

Matt: “Banter With Bad Boy Billy” – I really enjoyed reading this blog, and I am glad that you were able to give us lots of background detail before springing into the dialogue. It sucks how rotten your friend’s life seems to be going, and because of your attention to detail, I felt like I was standing at a distance watching your guys’ conversation with your face freaking out as the conversation progressed and your friend’s smile fading as you kept asking the wrong questions.  I definitely can relate to that particular incident. “More Office Hijinx” – It was definitely another story that I found interesting. You really make me feel like I am there in the story with you because of how much background you provide. It’s a good thing, in my eyes. The only thing I could see needed a revision was one of the last sentences when Bob is asking Mike about the snake…”Can you can see how this could be a bad idea?” It’s just a typo, but that’s all I could find.  “Why I Can’t Write This Prompt” – What’s funny about this blog is that you technically did do that prompt by persuading us that you were incapable of being persuasive without being aggressive, yet it actually works. It’s a subtle argument and although you might not have meant to persuade us, you in fact did. Good job for not meaning to try.

Miranda: “Homeless Ravioli” – You did a great job following the dialogue prompt on this one. There was very little background and you let the dialogue do the explaining. I couldn’t find anything that needed critiquing on that one. It looked and read great to me. “The Crazy They Bring” – What an awesome story to tell. Just from the all the dialogue, I could tell how frustrating and confusing it could have been to have your friend make plans and then cancel, but at least in the end your friends really didn’t flake. I was seriously keeping my fingers crossed for you as the blog continued, just hoping that your friends were messing with you on your birthday. The dialogue was great and easy to follow. “I Will Win” – It’s a nice short and sweet piece. I understand your feelings behind glitter not being accepted and how that can be especially irritating to you when other works of art, that really don’t seem to have anything special about them, are considered priceless works of art. I like the simplicity behind the blog.

Nicola: “Drawing an Interaction” -  The blog was quite interesting. I don’t know very much about architecture and drafting, so it was nice to hear more about a subject that is unfamiliar to me. The only thing I might offer advice about is making some sentences into compound or complex sentences because I think a few of the sentences were fragments, but other then that I appreciated the divided paragraphs and what you had to say. J “Dialogue” – Super cute story! Your daughter sounds very bright and she’s lucky to have you be there for her with school. And by the way, I like your idea behind the money for grades…I bet that really works. And you did a fine job with the dialogue. All that I can suggest is punctuation and working on where to place the commas and such in each paragraph. Other then that, great job!

Prompt 27: Aggressive NOT Welcome

  Are you a dog lover? Do you own any dogs yourself? If you do, have you ever taken your dog(s) to a dog park before? Well, if you have, then maybe you will understand what I am about to say: I don’t understand and I don’t like people who bring their aggressive dogs to a dog park.

  I have two dogs of my own, Tug and Gem, and I love them like they were my own children so when one of them gets upset or hurt, I act like a protective mother and come to their rescue every time.  And it has just been lately that I have begun to notice the abundance of aggressive dogs at the dog park. For instance, I watched as this one guy brought his boxer (not that the breed is known for aggressive behavior) to the park and right as he released the dog into the designated area, his dog went straight after the neck of another pup that was just innocently prancing around, admiring the smells. Now, if I were the owner of that victimized puppy, I would have been infuriated. I don’t care if that person thinks that by bringing his angry dog to the dog park, that miraculously his dog will become more docile…I don’t want my own puppies being the Ginny pig while the owner hopes for his dog to become more sociable.

   Even on a more objective perspective, who would put an aggressive dog in situation in which a lawsuit could occur? One bite and that owner can consider him/herself bankrupt because there will be medical bills, attorney fees, and if the owner of the victimized dog decides to sue, they can even claim emotional distress. And in a case of repetitive claims of violence against the aggressive dog, the owner might even be forced to put their own puppy to sleep. So why take the risk?

   If a person is so concerned with their dog’s social skills with other dogs, then instead of taking their dog to the dog park where there is little control over what might happen, they should take their dogs to obedience training or have the “Dog Whisperer” come to their house. I bet getting professional help would cost less then any legal fees or vet bills.  And if the sole purpose of taking their dogs to the dog park is for exercise, taking a dog for a walk around the neighborhood is just as effective, not to mention more conducive to their own health.

  So for all the owners of aggressive dogs out there, I just have one question for you: Can you please leave your aggressive dog at home?

Prompt 25: The Goog Knows Best

Today, my grandparents and me have decided to plow the weeds in my backyard during midmorning, and the sun is already starting to affect us physically. My grandfather has a hoe and has already been trucking away at the weeds in the dirt, my grandmother, being allergic to the sun, is taking a moment to rest in the shade and enjoy her freshly brewed ice tea, and I am with another hoe trying to keep up with my grandfather’s quickness.

  Goog (That’s what we call my grandmother) calls out to Bawpa (AKA “George” or grandpa), “Hun, don’t you think you should take a short break? Get out of the sun for a bit?”

Bawpa with tired and frustrated look responds, “No, I’m not thirsty. I’ll break in a few minutes.”

“Well honey, I just want to make sure you don’t get dehydrated. You know how harsh the Arizona sun can be.”

“I know, Kathy (AKA “Goog”), but I don’t want anything to drink.”

“Okay, I’m just saying when you start to feel tired, there will be a glass of nice cold ice tea waiting for you.”

I continue to savagely hoe away at the never-ending cluster of weeds while listening to their conversation, and when I take a moment to look up, I see Bawpa heading into the shade. I look at Goog to see what she has to say about it.

She graciously giggles, “I guess it just had to be his idea for him to want to take a break. I knew he was getting tired, I could tell by the way he was hoeing, he wasn’t going to make it much longer.”

“O Kathy, that’s not true.”

Goog replies, “Uh huh, fifty-three years been married. I think I know my own husband.”

“Okay Goog, sure. Whatever you say honey,” as he continues to drink the ice tea.

Prompt 22, Variation 2: Crushes

This is from an elementary child’s perspective. Let me know if anything gets too confusing. Thanks!

The bell rings. 12:15pm. I can feel my tummy grumbling, so I am so happy it’s finally lunch time. I usually like Ms. Shipp’s Algebra lectures, but after lunch, during recess, Zay is going to ask Ryan and Alex who they “like-like,” and I’m hoping one of them picks me.  We form a line at the door; my paper bag lunch hangs to my side as we march down the two flights of stairs to the back yard area where we can sit at our picnic tables. Every girl in my class knows what is going to happen once the half hour is up for our lunch break, so we are all giddy with excitement. Brittany, Rachel, Dana, and me all find our usual seats and begin chatting away. Brittany starts, “I bet Ryan won’t even like anyone.” Rachel jumps in with her two-cents, “Yeah, well I bet Alex will pick Lindsey. He’s always staring at her during class.” And while I blush in silence all of the girls join in together with the, “EwWw…”

   We hear the bell ring again, telling us that recess is now in session, and we are free to get out of our seats and head to the black top area in the front of the school. The four of us girls follow closely behind Zay as we reach the basketball courts on the black top where Ryan and Alex are playing. Zay, without fear or hesitation, walks right up to the two boys and begins her questioning:

  “Hey boys…so us girls were wondering something…”

  Ryan and Alex stop the ball as it bounces off the backboard and look towards the group of girls huddled on what was supposed to be their recess basketball game. “O yeah…what’s up?”

 “Well we were wondering… if you had to like someone in the class, like, “like-like” someone, who would it be?”

Ryan and Alex look at each other as if they weren’t sure what would be the coolest response. Should they actually say someone who might be a someone standing in the crowd before them or should they play it cool and not actually tell? As the seconds feel like forever as the clock ticks on while they debate between themselves, us girls, fiddle with our hair and fingers as we wait.

Ryan is the first to respond, “Well, I don’t know about Alex, but I don’t like anyone in the class.” His face turns a slight shade of pink as he makes eye contact with every girl in the crowd. Then Alex, looking at his best friend next to him, responds, “What do you mean by “like-like” someone?”

Zay quickly replies, “Like is there a girl in the class you have a crush on?”

Alex’s face is blank. He takes a look around the crowd of girls. He looks at Ryan. Then I see him look at me. He continues to fiddle with the basketball; rolling it between his two hands.

Zay cuts in before he can speak, “It’s just if you had to like someone in the class, who would it be?”

This time I know I make eye contact with Alex. His face still blank, but his cheeks become more crimson right before he speaks. “Well, I guess if I had to like-like someone, I would pick…Lindsey.” All the girls look at me. I lose eye contact with Alex as the girls giggle and swarm around me in excitement.

Zay starts in again. “Okay…so Ryan if you had to like someone, who would it be? And you can’t say no one. You have to choose one girl.”

Ryan and I make eye contact, but then I look away because I would be too embarrassed if both boys picked me, and what happens if they then ask me who I would pick? I wouldn’t know what to say. Luckily Ryan looks directly at Brittany and then at Zay. It figures he would like Brittany or Zay; both of them are athletic and Brittany has long beautiful blond hair. Not to mention, Zay is the best basketball player we have on our girls’ team and she is the fastest runner in cross-country. Of course, he would pick one of them. Ryan finally brings his eyes to a pause, looks at Alex, and slowly pulls Zay aside, away from the rest of us girls. We can’t hear his response but I can tell he does actually say something by the way Zay’s eyes light up after the whispering finishes. Ryan returns to Alex and grabs the basketball from his hands. “Let’s finish this game before the bell rings.”

All of us girls scurry over to Zay to have her dish on what Ryan told her. All at once, each girl in the group asks variations of the same question, “What did he say?” “Who did he pick?” Zay looks at each girl, making each girl she looks at think it might be her. Then she stops and as she is begins to spill, “Well he said if he had to like someone…” The bell rings. Teacher chaperones begin blowing whistles trying to get all of us back into formation to head back to class. All of us girls, hurry into our lines but try to get Zay to tell us the rest of the sentence. More whistles blow, and we are rushing towards the entrance. It’s too late. There is a mandatory silence while walking through the hallways, so we are no longer able to speak to one another. I see Ryan and Alex. Alex still has a blush look and sweet eyes as he looks in my direction, but Ryan keeps his feelings hidden as I look for any clues as who he might have picked. Our teacher tells us to face forward while walking, so I guess if there were any nonverbal communications happening, I wouldn’t be able to tell. I quickly look forward and walk on wondering who might have picked.   

Hello to the New Peers for Peer Review!

Matt: Hi Matt! I’m really glad Patel put us in the same Peer Group. I really appreciate the suggestions you made about my writing…I found them very helpful! For your prompt 20, I can tell you put a lot of thought into what you were writing about. I especially enjoyed your final paragraph in which you called your boss at the worst possible moment and said your ever-so-sweet farewells. I couldn’t help but laugh. I also admire how much detail you put into your writing. When you write about something you definitely don’t just skim the surface, and I find that appealing. I like reading stories where there’s nothing left to guessing and you definitely do that.

If there’s anything I could critique about the blog, is that in the fourth paragraph, a sentence reads, “I only had to manage to hold a particular set of accounts together for a week at a time,” and I thought it could have been rewritten a little differently since it sounds a little funky when I read it. Maybe it could be written, “I only had to manage a particular set of accounts together for a week at a time?” or possibly, “I was only able to hold a particular set of accounts together for a week at a time?” I’m not quite sure what you were trying to say so I thought I could give suggestions for that.

  For Prompt 21, I don’t know if there is anything to critique! I really like how it was from a third person perspective, and how you were able to write so well without incorporating yourself into the actual essay. Again, there were tons of details that really make the visualizations come to life, and I really got the idea of what the people on the strip are like. The dialogue you added to the story only made everything seem more real and funny. I enjoyed the dialogue about the strippers and smelling like strawberries…because “from what I’ve heard,” strippers really do wear fruity perfumes and lotions.

Nicola: Hello Nicola! I enjoy the simplicity of your writing, and how direct you are when getting to the topic of the story and what it entails. One thing I think that could help the blogs is separating the entire blog into individual paragraphs. For Prompt 20, I felt like the whole blog could have been separated into the introduction, supporting paragraphs, and then the conclusion. With it being one paragraph everything seems to blend together. I also felt like some sentences could have been joined together and not in short choppy sentences. For instance, “The next portion is the gathering of the coal, which are broken into smaller pieces and put into about six five pound buckets. Which are then loaded into the truck.” The two sentences could be rewritten as a complex sentence like, “The next portion is the gathering of the coal, which are broken into smaller pieces and put into about six five pound buckets; which are then loaded into the truck.”

 In prompt 21, the first sentence might be a run-on sentence. You could make it into two sentences by placing a period after “experience” and capitalizing “all.” You also tend to use language that more familiar to the culture that you write about, but perhaps for people, like me, who aren’t familiar; maybe you could go into more detail about what they are and how they relate to the story. That way, without giving the readers an actual definition, we can get the idea of what they mean from the details.

Miranda: Hi again! “Leaving a trail of giggles and delight,” I totally love the visualizations you give because of the way you give it. I can definitely image what the little girl looks like running “around and around,” just like you described, and I completely understand the nerve-wrecking feeling of watching another person’s small child and looking at every object in the room as a potential hazard. For “S&M – educational or trashy?” I couldn’t agree more with your feelings about Rihanna being too explicit in her music. I especially enjoyed the line you wrote, “it seems as though her attempt to make a loud impression could have maybe had a bit more class and a bit less ass.” Hands down, couldn’t agree more.

Prompt 21: Nascar fans

 The races used to come to Phoenix International Raceway every March in Arizona, but this year, NASCAR came in February.  The weather channel had predicted a heavy rainfall to pour on that Sunday the cars were supposed to race; however, by some odd miracle, the sun shined through scattered clouds giving the perfect weather conditions for an awesome race.

  On that Sunday, fans from all over the country arrived to watch the Sprint Cup Series racecars fly around the racetrack three hundred and twelve times going almost two hundred miles an hour. Like most races, thousands of people of all different colors, shapes, and sizes came cheer on their favorite driver. It was like a madhouse while trying to walk to the stadium, holding on tight to the person accompanying me in an effort to not lose one another, dodging through crowds of people. If there was ever a perfect place to “people watch” this was the place. There were men with beards, some with just the classic foo-man-chew, others with large sideburns. Some fans were sporting their driver’s memorabilia, whether is was just a simple hat on their head or pajama pants with a repetitive pattern of a driver’s number plastered all over.  Or there were even the extremely supportive fans that had applied face paint to various parts of their body in order to overly express their encouragement.  As we made our way to the gate to get into the stadium and to our hill seats, it seemed like the sea of people continued to expand the further we walked.

 Now I have to admit, when I originally thought of NASCAR, I thought of rednecks and beer as well as Ricky Bobby from Talladega Nights; yet, once I finally experienced more then one race, I found so much more then I could have anticipated. Of course, there were some rednecks and definitely a lot of beer, but there were also just very passionate fans and families out to support their favorite driver. I once asked an extreme NASCAR fan to list three things he thinks of when I mention NASCAR fans and this was his response, “Wild, intense, and passionate.” He said that fans do get wild and rowdy when at a race because of the intense passion they have for the sport. “It’s practically three and a half hours of constant stress when watching a race because it’s not a 50/50 chance of your driver winning, it’s much less then that, so as a fan in the stands (or on the hill), all you can do is stress and express your intense emotions while you cross your fingers that your driver doesn’t crash or get spun out. That is why we get so wild.”  So the idea that I originally had of NASCAR fans being rednecks with beer was not quite accurate, in fact, it was not quite right at all. Once seated on the hill, I took another glance around and found a variety of people surrounding me. There was a couple of fathers below me with their sons trying to have some quality bonding time as they cheered for Jeff Gordon to win, there was another family below them with flags waving in memory of Dale Earnheart, who passed away ten years ago, and there was a drunk guy with headphones on swaying to his own rhythm as he listened in on what the newscasters had to say, but for the most part the people at the NASCAR event were just loyal fans looking to show their support for driver in America’s top sport.

***Sorry this was such an abrupt blog. I had a hard time getting into this particular prompt.***

Prompt #20: Ridiculously Overwhelming

***Bare with me readers…I’m trying a new style. Regular font is dialogue, Italicized is supposed to be my thoughts, and bold is narration. Let me know what you think! Thanks!***

“Okay. I should only be gone for about an hour and a half, which means I should be back here by 2:30pm and you can take your lunch break at 3:00pm. Sound good?”

Sure sounds great except I’ve never been unsupervised in the restaurant before so this should be interesting.

“Yeah! No worries boss! I’ll call if I need anything. Have fun!”

I’ve worked at Romeo’s Pizza and Pasta for almost three and a half years now. It’s just a small family owned Italian restaurant located on one of the busiest streets in my hometown. The actual restaurant is situated underneath an apartment complex facing the street in front. When I first got hired here, I started as a server just waiting on tables and answering phone calls, but over the years I have dappled into the other jobs of the restaurant. After serving, I starting helping washing dishes, I became overly interested in cooking so I began working as a prep cook, then a pizza cook, and finally I have surpassed them all and began learning the pasta chef roles. On Fridays, like today, I generally start my shift in the late morning in order to prepare certain foods for later in the day, and also to wait tables during lunchtime; however, on this particular Friday, my boss who is also the owner of the restaurant has a soccer game he must attend to, so he is leaving the fate of his restaurant in my hands for the late lunch hours. The only tricky part is that I am the only person working in the restaurant at this time except our delivery man, who I expect will be too busy driving orders around town to help me out in the kitchen or in the dining area.

  Okay. I need to keep it together. Only two hours till he returns, and we’ve already had the normal lunch rush, so maybe, just maybe I’ll be perfectly fine by myself. After all, it’s only cooking, serving, and cleaning that I have to do by myself. What can go wrong? Time to start my check list: To Go Salads…check. Caesar dressing made…check. Lettuce cut…check. Chicken cut…check. Food prep ready and stocked…check. Dining area clean…check. Alright, not a bad start. Everything is prepped and ready to go.

Phone rings.

Oh boy.

My hair stands on end. I can feel my heart rate increase and the anxiety rush in. I answer the phone, “Romeo’s, how may I help you?”

O thank God. It’s only a pizza order for pick up. I can do that. No problem.

After the order is placed, I hang up the phone. I get over to the kitchen area, grab the freshly printed tag and hang it up on the counter in front of me and begin to knee out the pizza dough. Once it’s at the proper diameter, I transfer the dough to a metal screen where I begin to spread marinara sauce evenly across the dough. I add the cheese and toppings and place the pizza into the oven. I look at the clock, 1:04, I’ll check back on it in six minutes.

Phone rings again.

Alright six minutes…six minutes…I can’t forget to check on the pizza in six minutes.

I answer the phone using the same interlude, and follow the normal procedures. I finish the conversation and hear the printer in the kitchen print another tab. Then I hear the door open. An elderly couple walks in and say they would like to dine in.

“Please take a seat wherever you like. I’ll come to you in a minute.”

I grab a couple menus, head over to their table, and ask if I can get them something to drink.

O crap. Has it already been six minutes? I can’t see the clock. Hopefully these two can decide on a drink soon. I can’t have a pizza burn on my watch.

I get the drink order. I briskly head back to kitchen. I’m only a minute late to check on the pizza. I look in the oven, grab the paddle over head, and take a peek at the pizza inside. It’s totally fine. I rotate the metal screen and close the oven door. I walk to the pasta section where the tag I had printed a minute ago is hanging. It’s only a chicken Caesar salad with a side of garlic cheese bread.

No problem. This is a breeze. I can have this order ready in five minutes flat.

The phone rings again.

O please…let this be another easy order. I only have five minutes till the first pizza is ready and I still need to check on the couple in the dining area.

I answer the phone. It’s a pick up order. Pastas. My eyes get wider in worry of which pasta the customer may choose.

As long as a customer doesn’t order a Seafood pasta, everything will be fine. I can do everything else pretty well except the Seafood pasta…the whole balance of clam juice, white wine, and cream has always seem to elude me.

It’s only a spaghetti with meatballs and creamy pesto tortellini. I finish the phone call, check the time. One minute till the pizza is ready. I grab the drinks for the couple and head out to hopefully take their order.  It’s a simple order: two garden salads, an order of breadsticks, and a personal Mediterranean Pizza for them to share.

I better walk fast. I need to get that pizza out of the oven and the garlic cheese bread in the oven. Then, I can place the ‘dine-in’ order, slice up the pizza, grab the garden salads, make the personal pizza and get it in the oven, start on the pastas for ‘pick-up,’ and hopefully have everything finish in time before the customers begin to arrive. O yeah…I got this.

But as I get part way through my ingenious plan, I am interrupted again by another group colleagues looking for somewhere to sit.

“Anywhere is fine! I’ll be with you guys in one second!” I yell as I try to finish bagging the garlic cheese bread and chicken Caesar salad, fumbling as I rush to grab menus. The phone goes off. The second phone goes off.

I better be getting a raise soon. This is so hectic. I feel so overwhelmed. I still have a personal pizza in the oven and I can’t be on both phones at once. I need to give these people some menus and get their drinks out, but I’m only one person! Just breathe…woosaw…inhale…exhale…

I finally get things in order. The new customers get their menus, I grab each phone, one by one, ask politely for them to hold, take out the personal pizza for the first table, answer the phone calls while the pasta noodles boil, and eventually get to the newest table of customers and deliver their drinks. I do all of this one step at time and without burning one of the pizzas or the sauces.

Man, I am awesome. And look at that 2:30 has just rolled around, and look there, the boss is actually on time. Woohoo! Lunch break!

The Boss: “So how was everything? It looks like you have everything under control. I told you it wouldn’t get too busy. Great job!”

“O yeah. No sweat boss.”   Man, if he only knew. I wipe my brow and head out the doors for my lunch break.

Peer Reviews

Alyssa: I really enjoyed how you were able to incorporate your dance into prompt 14. I characterize myself as someone who thinks more inside the box, so to see how you turned a prompt that I felt like was supposed to be about food into about dance was really fantastic. I also found how the recipe continued throughout the whole blog really kept the instructions fluid. One question though, in the last paragraph, is the last sentence written correctly? “…is the culture of dance is balance,” should it read, “in the culture of dance is balance?” That was the only thing I wasn’t sure of.

Jesus: I enjoyed how you arranged Prompt 14. Instead of creating a recipe to either be written at the beginning or during the blog, you incorporated the food into the actual writing and in the references. It was a nice twist to the prompt. I also thought your description of the Spanish Catholic church was hilarious, and I really enjoyed reading it.  In prompt 15, I can’t believe a car hit you and the driver wasn’t cited. That seems so ridiculous to me. I always enjoy the side comments you make that make the blog seem more personal.

John: Your blog for prompt 14 really surprised me. When I began reading your blog I was thinking, “where is this guy going with this topic?” and then when I read the last sentence I figured out that you are so knowledgeable about the jail food because you’ve experienced it first hand. I commend you for sharing it with the class. The only thing I could spot with the writing was some grammatical errors. In the first paragraph commas might have been needed. For prompt 15, I totally understand the time constraint and trying to get an assignment done as quickly and efficiently as possible, so props to you for even trying. Which, by the way, you didn’t do bad at all. Besides the obvious grammatical and spelling errors, I enjoyed the read. My favorite sentence is, “I am financially stable, friendly and currently have no STD’s. I’m awesome, why don’t I fit in?” It totally cracked me up. 

Miranda: I really enjoyed the blog, “Haggis and The Highland Games.” I like how your last paragraph sums all of it up in a couple of short and sweet sentences. I especially enjoyed the very last part, “…and a wandering drunk to enjoy.” It was a nice ending.  I think the whole blog flowed very well together. You seem to have a knack for introductions because they always seem to fit perfectly with the information that follows.

Prompt #15: Epileptic Seizures

  I did two twelve-hour clinical shifts in order to graduate from EMT school. This is an example of a scenario that I encountered while participating.

  Twelve hours. From six in the afternoon till six in the morning, I am expected to jump right into the normal hospital rounds, and go about the saving lives business like I’ve been doing it for years. As the Probe to this particular hospital, I am supposed to be confident, intelligent, and quick on my feet. When an emergency occurs, I should be ready to take charge and know exactly what procedures to follow; however, it’s only my second shift as an EMT-basic student, and although I may have the book work down, I am not sure if my Sympathetic nervous system is prepared for any and all injuries that I may encounter.

  It’s already been eight hours into my shift. The heavenly coworkers I am surrounded by have ordered an abundance of pizza from a nearby pizzeria, so I am finally able to recharge my body after standing for so many hours; yet, just I am about to sink my teeth into such a delicious slice of pepperoni and pineapple, I hear the signal from the radio go off. It’s an ambulance in the area that is notifying us of their arrival time. I can’t seem to hear all the details, but I grasp the impression that we need to expect a young male, in his late twenties, suffering from epilepsy. So I drop the slice that I have been dying to ingest, and make my way to the receiving room. There’s usually a couple rooms designated in each section of the Emergency Room for patients with life-threatening conditions, so I start power walking to Room 15.  As arrive in the entryway of Room 15, there are already Technicians making room for the new patient by getting the oxygen masks, IV lines, and catheters ready. You can never be too prepared. Then the two large doors swing open and the patient is brought in by gurney.

   The young male looks pale white. He has tired eyes, as if the epileptic seizures woke him during his sleep. His muscles are tensed from the “tonic-clonic phase” of the seizures in which all of the muscles stiffen, and at the moment, he seems dazed and confused, as if the Postictal state still hasn’t worn off yet. We transfer the patient to the newly prepped hospital bed as the head nurse begins her questionnaire. She reads off the questions from her computer screen, “How many seizures has Patient X (we’ll call him Patient X to protect his anonymity) had already tonight? Does he have history of experiencing seizures? How often do these seizures occur? Does he have a particular trigger? Is he allergic to any medication? Does he take any medication?” And the questions continue until the whole list is completed. During this time, I am requesting information from the paramedics who are transferring him into our custody. I ask for the pretty basic details like blood glucose levels, blood pressure, breathes per minute, pupil reactions, pulse, and so on. The paramedics also take the moment to inform me that during the postictal state, Patient X had become quite aggressive, and actually tried to stop treatment, so I was to be forewarned.

  As the questioning eventually came to a close, we needed to switch out the IV catheter that the paramedics had implemented and replace it with a hospital IV line. The nurse began the process. She removed the first line, and as she was trying to insert the second one, Patient X began seizing again. His entire muscular system contracted. Face and neck included. He began regurgitating. But his jaw was locked tight. One paramedic grabbed the suctioning utensil and tried to clear away the stomach contents. One minute already passed. Then the “clonic” phase began. Patient X’s limbs began to flail. He shook from head to toe. Soon bladder and bowels lost control and released. Another minute passed. Uncontrollable tears ran down his face. Saliva seeped through his teeth. The flailing of the legs and arms began to gradually slow. The last minute passed. Finally the postictal state commenced.  The patient lied there; tired from the work his body just forced him to participate in. He tried to resist care just like the paramedics had warned us, so we were forced to attach soft restraints to his legs and arms. He was not a real big fan on the restraints, but he needed the protection from himself.

  Seizures are an intense situation to handle. I had no idea walking into my second clinical shift that I would find myself spending hours helping to restrain and watch over a patient with an epilepsy disorder. But I am glad to report that Patient X was eventually released from the hospital, and although he will forever be a victim to the epilepsy, the doctors were able to help him decrease the frequency.  

Prompt #14: Marinara Abroad

Spaghetti: boil water; add a pinch of salt, a dash of olive oil, and then add the spaghetti noodles to the water; drain the water once the noodles are tender. Add the marinara sauce on top and serve along side Parmesan cheese.

I once took a trip to travel abroad in Europe. It was between my junior and senior year of high school when I was accepted as an ambassador to travel to Italy, France, and England. When preparing to leave, I did have some expectations on what I would experience while abroad. I expected to see the Roman Coliseum, the Vatican, the Luv, the Tour d’Eiffel, and of course, I expected to take a joyous ride on a red double-decker bus in London, but besides the common tourist sites, I expected to ingest delicious carbs smothered in mouth-watering marinara sauce. And from the first lunch in Rome to the last meal in London, my expectations did not go unmet.

  In Rome, the marinara was made kosher, so it’s base was chunks of rich tomatoes and hints of fresh basil as well as bay leaves. It was simple yet very gratifying and elegant. When we traveled to Nice, located near the Mediterranean Sea, in the south of France, the pasta included fresh pieces of fish amongst the pureed marinara sauce; however, instead of the traditional spaghetti noodles, the sauce was placed atop circular noodles which somewhat resembled “Spaghetti O’s.”  In the northern most part of France called Normandy, I was given the opportunity to watch as the chefs prepared a very different version of the marinara sauce. This time the sauce was mixed with Kalamata olives and chili pepper, giving an extra bold flavor and little kick after each bite. Even in London, as the trip came to a close, the very last meal I enjoyed consisted of a much simpler recipe.  It was freshly grown tomatoes with garlic cloves, onion, and just a smidge of olive oil. It had the perfect balance of each ingredient so that I was able to taste each one separately.

  My trip abroad was an amazing adventure, and although it may seem like I ate way too much of the same thing, it really wasn’t all the same. In each city I stopped in, I was given an introduction into each particular culture. Through the marinara sauce, I was able to grasp the essence of the location, and enjoy a tasty meal at the same time.  It was a beautiful combination.

Peer Reviews

Alyssa: “Untaken Trip,” was a nice short and sweet blog. I think the idea behind the story of how you just showed up at the airport and randomly selected a flight is story that most people would love to tell. While reading it, I could tell there was a common thread of just being able to breathe that traveled through each paragraph. The writing made the tone very calming, and the details really made the scenery and feelings come to life.  In “what a place is and how a place seems,” it was interesting to hear about your perspective on the Arizona / Mexico border. I appreciated how you gave a very calming understanding of what it can be like living near the border, which like you said, can be very misunderstood. One thing I might suggest is using commas to help indicate when the reader should pause when reading. Sometimes it seems like things just mesh together when your words could be better emphasized using punctuation marks.

Jesus: Your blog for Prompt 11 was very well written. I wasn’t quite sure how you were going to incorporate a trip that you haven’t taken, but after reading the whole blog, I really enjoyed how you were thinking outside the box. I also admired how you were able to create a timeline for the relationship between you and your sister by writing in chapters.  “Superfly” was awesome with the illustrations and everything. Keeping the sentences short gave a slightly creepy tone that matched the idea of the scary house and evil grandmother. Plus, the ending was short, sweet, and funny. Very nice.

John: For “The Football Fields” blog, I really enjoyed how you started off by giving your perspective on what the grounds looked like before the football fields were put in place, and then continued on as time passed. I can really tell how much you and your family enjoy those fields especially in the final paragraph. One small suggestion would be that in your second to last paragraph, in the second sentence, it could have used a comma after “football.” I’m sorry if it looks like I’m nitpicking, I just can’t find anything else to critique. In “A trip not yet taken,” I really really hope you never have to take that trip. Your descriptions from the beginning up until the last sentence had me on my toes waiting to find out where you at in the blog. It was a nice twist to the prompt; very creative and detailed.

Miranda: “If it weren’t for lack of money or time” was a great story. It actually seemed like you had really taken that trip because how you added the dialogue. If there’s anything I could ask you to do…could you include the prompt number for each blog? It’s hard for me to tell which blog is for this week or next week. I would super-d-duper appreciate it. In “Ceramics, my love,” I especially enjoyed your finishing sentence. Comparing creating ceramics to a lover is a great metaphor and pretty funny as well. I wasn’t aware of the all the work that goes into ceramics, so it was cool to read about process.

Prompt #13: Diastole

  There is a place that I hold dear to my heart. It’s a place that helped mold me into the person I am today. It is a place that brought my entire family together, and has kept our family together. This place is hidden on the Fort Brag Coast, and can only be found by those who have traveled there once before. It’s located amongst trees and brush and hidden deep along the cliffs overlooking the out-stretched ocean.  We call this place, “Diastole.”

Imagine this: a cool breeze blowing in off the bright blue ocean, salt floating into your hair as you feel the cool wind hit your skin, the tide is coming in so white caps cover the tumbling wave breaks that cause the ice cold water to rush towards the sand castles that have no barricades to save them. You look farther out into the deep blue and spot some whales shooting water from their spouts as they rise to the surface for some air. You look straight down. The cliff from which you are standing on is covered in greenery leading all the way down to where the sanding beach lies below. Then you look back. And through the tall redwood trees you can see the wall of glass windows structuring the beach house only a hundred meters away. From this distance, you can see the various family members gathered on the porch in front of those windows, discussing the events that have taken place in their lives in the previous year, and how much they have missed each other since the last family gathering. This is what I remember from my trips to Diastole.

   Being down on the ledge of the cliff was one of my favorite things to do as a child. I would sit on the thick wooden bench that was bolted into the ground, and keep my eyes wide open in case any aquatic creature would rise to the watery surface below. Every once and a while, I would get to see a few whales migrating just off the cliff or more often, see seals playfully hurling themselves up and out of the waves in the water. The cliff was also the place where you come to sit and pick out the colors in the sunset. Pinks, purples, yellows, after so many years, if you could name the color, I had seen it in at least one of the sunsets I sat to admire.

  Then there was the beach house itself. When I mentioned my entire family came together at that house, I really meant my entire family. There must have been over thirty people staying on the property at one time. On the inside of the house there were only three bedrooms and then there was the loft up above. Usually the eldest of the bunch were given the bedrooms, and being one of the grandchildren, we were expected to set up camp in the loft. Which, honestly, was the coolest thing the adults could have made us do. It was practically an adventure just trying to get into the loft. In order to enter the loft, there was a one-sided wooden ladder attached to a wall in the garage, which led to a wooden platform that connected to the three-foot door into the loft area. Once inside the loft, the floor was covered in carpet, the ceiling slanted at an angle with beams hanging down, and there were three beds lined up side by side. The beds almost reminded me of the “Goldilocks and the three bears” fable because the three beds the lined up next to each other grew in size the further into the loft they were. First there was a twin bed, then a full size bed, and then a queen size bed that was on a short metal frame. At the edge of the loft, there was another three-foot door that opened into another small area that over-looked the family room. The loft was made into the grandchildren’s private space, which I might add the majority of my cousins are all girls, so you can imagine what it would be like for a bunch of young girls having their own separate space from everyone else. We had complete control over when we had to go to sleep, so we stayed up playing “truth or dare,” and as we began to mature, we would ask each other questions about our love lives, and who are latest crushes were. The loft was are safe haven from parents who were “just too old to understand us.”

  Now back down into the usual living quarters, the family room was where most of the family did the bonding. All thirty of us would find some place to congregate, whether it was on the light wooden floors or the stone bench that wrapped around the fireplace.  And at night, once everyone had finished eating their abalone dinners or cleaned up his or her hot chocolate, we would gather for our traditional talent show that, us, grandchildren would embarrassingly perform.  There would be karaoke to a “Pink” song, or a horribly rhyming cheer followed by a five-man pyramid, or a short play performed. It really didn’t matter what performance we chose to do or how well we performed it, it only mattered that we were together and spending quality time with the entire family. We were just always content as long as we were together.

  It is too bad that after a decade of spending family vacations at that beach house, we were forced to give it up. My family still tries to have family campouts once a year in replacement of the beach house, but it’s not the same. There is no more salty breezes flowing through our hair, there is no more pastel skies to lighten the mood, no more loft to giggle and reminisce, and certainly no place that holds so many dear memories. Diastole was our place of solace, it was our place to forget about the real world and only waste our energy on each other.  Diastole brought my family together and it is what has made my family stay so close. I couldn’t imagine what our lives would be like if we hadn’t gathered there all those years.