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.