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.

Week 3 Reviews

Alyssa: The “Juxtaposition” blog you posted was a very interesting twist to your writing. You showed that you are capable of very different style of writing. I thought the interruptions for the breaking news in quotes was a clever way to intertwine what was happening in your life, then what was happening in your sister’s life, and then what was occurring in Tuscan at the same time. I might just be a slow processor, but it did take me a few tries to get the understanding of what was being written; however, once the light bulb turned on in my head, I found the blog to very creative. The “Peeling back Layers” blog is incredible. The amount of detail and fluidity in the writing almost makes me feel like I am the dancer moving across the floor. It was very easy to get into the movements and visualize what was happening as the lyrics played. Great job!

Jesus: In prompt #9, I liked how you utilized the font to help the reader understand what was going on. I don’t know much about music or Elliot Smith so I was glad to see you give a little detail about him and what he meant to you. My favorite line in the blog is, “someone’s sister’s boyfriend’s cousin,” because it definitely emphasized the rumor effect. For Prompt #8, the line you chose from Charles Hawtrey and the Deaf Aids was perfect for the story that followed. I really enjoy how you are able to give so many different points of views in your stories, like when you switch from a narrator’s perspective to dialogue. One question, just out of curiosity, before that trip through the desert, had you met your mother before? From what I understood, it seemed like that trip was at first awkward because you guys weren’t very close. I don’t mean to pry, I just wanted to make sure I didn’t misunderstand something.

John: Prompt 8, holy cow…I can definitely dive into the emotions you were feeling while writing it. I liked how you incorporated the lyrics to the song with what you were writing about. It was creative, and the tone of the song and your writing definitely shared a common thread. There was a poetic feel that enjoyed reading, and if there were anything that needed a little fixing, it would just be some punctuation marks. In Prompt 9, I loved the rantings about Charlie Sheen. All the sarcastic remarks makes the blog extremely entertaining, and you totally surprised me with the last two sentences of the blog. I did not expect it to end with Chuck needing to roll a joint, but it still adds to the comedic effect so I enjoyed it.

Miranda: In the blog, “Monsanto vs. Choice,” you made a very compelling argument about Americans being more worried about money than about health and public education. I liked how the blog was structured to give your life choices first, then Monsanto’s, and then your opinion on the matter. It has a great beginning, middle, and end. In “I Don’t Care,” the way you matched the lyrics with your feelings was great. I really admire how you were able to tell the story without actually spilling out the details…it was nice to read the lyrics and follow along as the story unfolds and more details become obvious. Very creative and it was really easy to get into.

Prompt #8: A Night to Remember

“White Wedding” (Billy Idol)

“It’s a nice day for a white wedding…” It was not long ago that I was an attendee to a white wedding myself. The particular extravaganza was set in the luxurious location of Las Vegas, Nevada, in which Justin’s brother, Travis, was the one to be wed. The actual site was located near the Vegas strip, and it was just big enough for both the ceremony and reception to take place. The ceremony was short and sweet, giving the over-joyed parents enough to savor, but also allowing the rest of the guests not to lose focus. Once the ceremony was over, and the newly wed couple turned for their introduction as husband and wife, The Darkness was spouted out from the speakers surrounding us, “I believe in a thing called love; just listen to the rhythm of my heart!” It was such an informal yet perfect song to play as they exited down the rose covered aisle.

“Who’s that guy?” (Grease 2)

  Soon after the ceremony, all of the guests were escorted into the reception hall where we quickly found that an open bar was to be served till the end of the fabulous evening. Amongst our family and friends, we have a term used to describe a person who overly drinks and unfortunately loses self-control, and makes a complete fool of himself; we call this person, “that guy.” And from cocktail hour till the end of what was to become an embarrassing evening, Justin’s cousin Brian, was determined to be “that guy.”

“Shots” (Lil Jon and LMFAO)

  Have you ever heard of the song, “Shots,” by Lil Jon and LMFAO, in which they sing, “Shots, shots, shots, shots…?” Well that is exactly the song I could imagine Brian was thinking as he continued to devour one shot after another shot after another shot. Pretty soon Brian was so belligerent, no one could keep him off the dance floor, and I’m not really one to judge, but the flailing of the arms and awkward hip movements didn’t seem like any two-step I had ever seen before.

“I Had the Time of My Life” (Dirty Dancing)

  Eventually, the night began to come to a close. Last call at the bar was announced, and soon the last song was going to play, and who would have guessed it, but the classic version of “I Had the Time of My Life,” from the movie, “Dirty Dancing,” began to play. And I guess due my close proximity to Brian, I was chosen to perform the dance with him. So everything seemed to be moving along without too many stumbling motions until the very last climax in the song was approaching (you know when in the movie “Dirty Dancing,” Patrick Swayze lifts Jennifer Grey into the air). Well, without hesitation Brian decided that he wanted to reenact that portion of the movie, but forgot to give me any forewarning, so when the song reached the climax, I was lifted up into Brian’s arms, clumsily twirled around a few times, until he was unable to control his balance, and we toppled onto a nearby table. Luckily, the table was clear of any innocent bystanders; even so, it still took a few groomsmen to help remove him from on top of me, as his strength to pull himself off seemed to have eluded him at that time. 

    Fortunately though, the night ended on that note, and the very next day, Brian was so hung over, he didn’t even remember the entire incident. So I guess the saying, “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas,” is true due to the fact that alcohol helps to block any recollection of the events, therefore preventing any further disclosure from occurring.

Prompt #9: Keep Your Eyes on the Road

A recent accident involving a close friend of the family just happened in which a two-year-old child was killed and the mother of the child severely injured. I am going to be telling the event through the driver’s perspective.

The sound of the sirens has stopped, and only the flashing lights shine around me. I’m eventually taken away from the scene for questioning. I can still barely breathe. As I’m escorted away from the vehicle, my eyes wander back to where it all happened, back to where there wasn’t enough time to stop, back to where my life had ended. Why didn’t I just look up? Why did I have to be so curious? Why? O Why? A few meters down the sidewalk, the policemen pull me off to the side. They begin their interrogation by asking, “What happened here?” I continue to look off back at my car as I start to relive the horror that occurred only minutes ago, and I drift off as I speak.

Only thirty minutes earlier…

   “Bye Mom! I’ll see you at my next volleyball game on Saturday, right?”  I ask her with a swift kiss on the cheek as I rush out of the house. I know it might sound ridiculous that I’m a college student living in the dorms when my mom lives only a few blocks away from campus, but I need the freedom. I get into my reliable little Honda civic, place my cell phone on the small space near the shifter, insert the keys, and again wave to my mom who is now leaning in the doorway waiting for me to safely take off. She is such a worrywart, and if I would have known of the tragedy that was about to happen, I probably would have taken longer to say goodbye.  

  As I leave the cul-de-sac, I turn onto one of the busiest streets in my town and start heading in the direction of my school. You know when it’s just about sunset and the sun shines directly in your eyes no matter how big your sun visor is? That is exactly what I was experiencing, so I reached to find my sunglasses and safely pulled them out of my purse. But soon after, I hear the tunes of my cell phone jingle, and just in case I forgot something at my mom’s, I look down to see whom the text is from.

 Not only two seconds later, the tragedy struck.

I remember hearing the screeching of my tires as I braked for dear life, trying to avoid the pedestrians in front of me. It’s not enough though; the sounds of screaming and metal meeting bone loudly echo through my brain.

  I begin hyperventilating. Did that seriously just happen? Did I really lose focus for that long that I wasn’t able to see the young mother and her toddler walking in the crosswalk? Once my car comes to a halt, I immediately dash to see if there are any survivors. Tears are flowing down my face as I see the mother and her daughter lying on the ground motionless. There are more pedestrians surrounding the scene. I hear some of them calling for emergency services, and others come to help stabilize the victims. Eventually I can hear the sirens from police cars and ambulances as they begin to approach the scene. I find a seat on the curb, watching in disbelief. How could I have done this? This can’t be real. I remain on the curb in shock, not being able to move. Only tears and the feeling of my heart, ready to jump out of my chest, reassures me that I’m still alive.

  After giving my scrambling interpretation of what just happened, I am asked to leave the scene with the policemen to continue our conversation down at the station. Without hesitation, I comply with the officers and leave the dreadful site. As I’m sitting in the back seat of the cop car, I continue to go over and over the accident. It just doesn’t feel real to me. If it weren’t for the over-active heartbeat, I’d imagine I was the victim, and hope I had been the one to die. But the tragedy continues to play out in my head, and even though I have never really been one to ask God for anything, I pray the two people I hit, live to hear my apologies.

 

Week 2 Reviews

Alyssa: I really like how you took Ms. Patel’s advice and gave a little introduction into what you were going to write about before actually giving us your story. I’ll have to try to incorporate that into my own work. In your piece, “Family Memory,” I can definitely relate to the torture of having older siblings playing pranks on you.  I, myself, have a few older siblings and I can remember getting a concussion because of them.  But what I thought was so clever was that you gave the story from your perspective and then your father’s perspective. Seeing the variation was really interesting, and even though I know I can overuse parentheses, I thought you did a great job at balancing them into your blog.  In the “Kitchen” blog, the details of the kitchen and your family members gives a great visual, but one tiny thing I noticed was that instead of putting “chef,” you put “chief.” So it was only a couple spelling errors that might have needed revision.

Jesus: You are a ridiculously good writer! The fluidity of your work is amazing. The blogs are just so easy to read and there’s always a great introduction followed by an interesting middle, and a grand finale. In your piece on Prompt #5, when reading from your perspective, it was as if I could see you with your brother in the hallway after he tripped, and you freaking out like a normal child of that age would do. And the explanation of why you were hiding and how parents can misinterpret that for something else is really reasonable to address. The only question I had about that particular blog was…did you mean for the tone of the story to change at the end of Joey’s interpretation? After Joey trips, he immediately thinks that a lonely death is inevitable…which is a definite change from the impersonations and laughter. And then the last sentence brings back the comedic energy that was originally throughout the rest of the blog. So the back and forth switch just made me curious. The Kitchen blog was also very well written. I like the beginning dialogue between you and your mom before you got into more details, and the funny sarcasm that you tend to use…it always make me laugh. I really enjoyed the paragraph about why your mom couldn’t encourage you to play professional basketball.

Miranda: So first question…did the story from “The Dating Game” blog actually happen? Because if it did, I feel so sorry for the guy and his grunge girl. Your attention to detail in that blog seemed unrealistic. As I read it, I was biting at my nails hoping the young boy didn’t say something horrible to “Daddy.” And I still can’t believe a father would actually do that to his daughter’s boyfriend. If I was that kid, I would be scarred for life.  In the blog, “Terror Child,” I could really see how you incorporated a piece of information in the beginning and then at the end expanded on it. It really tied all the pieces of the story together. I also appreciated the little forewarning of the child ranting before the following paragraph began because if it wasn’t there, I would have been seriously confused. I also thought it was creative to use “that woman” when describing your dad’s soon-to-be wife because it set the tone for how you really felt about her.