The Outcast #76

He walks with his head down, never saying very much to anyone. His ideas, memories , and thoughts all bottled up in his head. Everyone around says he’s weird, however no one ever talks to him. He wears his cloths a little funny and is not in the latest fashion. He doesn’t smell like he showered lately. The kids point and laugh as he walks by. The girls whisper and the boys taunt. Yet this kid says nothing. He pretends he does not hear the horrible things they are saying about him. When he sits in the classroom he sits in back. I guess he figures the more invisible he can make himself the better he can get through the long day of school. In gym class he used to stay away from everyone. Not talking just reading a book. At lunch he would sit by himself. I could not ever put myself in that kids shoes. He didn’t have any friends and his school life was miserable. I still think about that boy. I actually met him in the 8th grade. From what I do know he was pretty much alone all of the time. His dad was a truck driver and his mother did not live with them. In 8th grade he pretty much was raising himself. I don’t know why I think of this kid. We weren’t friends. We had nothing in common except he was in my classes. To this day I never hear anything about him. He didn’t go to high school with us. The only time anything is ever mentioned is when some old friends and I get together and talk about junior high.

At last.. #75

The last time I saw my mother was fifteen years ago. I stood watching from the screened in front porch of my grand mama's home. She had been arrested by the Texas Rangers for trafficking and distributing Grade A Cocaine across the Gulf. She spent the last month in Cuba with her new boyfriend. He was an odd man. He was mean to me and my five brothers and sisters. Always chasing us out of the house saying he would "kill us all if he seen us again". I never understood what my mother seen in him. On that particular day the Rangers came for her I was holding my 10 month old sister on one hip and pulling the laundry out of the dryer. She had tried to take off running but they were waiting at the back door with riffles and handcuffs. She screamed at me to call my grand mama and get the money to bail her out. I didn't cry nor did I worry. I wanted her to go to jail. I hated her. Not because I had to solely take care of five siblings though. I hated her for not being my mother. In the past few months all she was was a stranger I would catch a glimpse of every once in a blue moon. She used to be beautiful. She had bouncy curls and and model figure, even with six kids. Now she was stringy. She looked like she had not showered for weeks and her lips were burnt from the crack pipe she smoked on a regular basis. Today is her hearing. I could not look in the eyes of the person that betrayed my family. Did she change? I'll never know. However, you can bet that even with all of what I was put through I came out to be a better person. Now I am the prosecuting attorney on her case.

The Comedian #36

"La-ooo-sa-her"! My sister is one of the funniest people I know. She is so natural at whatever new comic phrase she is saying. She knows exactly how to make everyone laugh and what hits the spot. When I cry or am angry she always know how to cheer me up. Jess can quote just about any Jim Carrey movie around. She recites Liar, Liar like no ones business. Last night, my car broke down and I was upset and stress about it. I was on the phone with my sister. Even though it was a horrible experience to be stuck at work waiting for a ride, she made light hearted comments and jokes that made me giggle, even though I was in a bad situation. Everything in life to her has a potential to be funny to her. "Oh, can you believe it!" - Jim Carrey's: Ace Ventura, When Nature Calls- She says to me this morning while I am writing my blog. She is a person who can be in a crowded place and have sarcastic or hilarious remarks to say about the food or the restaurant we are in. She doesn't have to think about what is being said. And sometimes she is my inspiration to write, be happy, or just enjoy a moment when it is not the best. When we were kids she was the practical joker. Always pulling pranks on my mom or coming up with ideas. She has a very rare talent that most comedians don't even possess.

#19 Writing About Writing

When I read this option I chuckled to myself. Not because it was funny or dumb, but because I have no clue how to write about how hard it is to write. What I can tell you is if you know something is expected out of your writing it seems like something you just can't do. However, if your free writing, whether it be poetry, rhymes, short stories, or just in your everyday journal it comes to you naturally. A secret I want to share is, be yourself no matter what you write. Forget about the grammer, format, or importance. That all comes later. Put your self there. I love to write. That is when nothing is expected of me. I spend a lot of time writing letters, poetry, lyrics, or anything I think. My willpower comes from everyday activities. If I am stressed or having a good day, it doesn't matter, I grab a pen and paper and jot it down. Even if I throw it away I was able to release that feeling. One accomplishment that I made was actually with writing. My junior year in high school we had to write a paper about something that was being debated at that time. I chose to write about the controversy with Marshall Mathers aka Eminem. A lot of media exposure he got then was about how his music promoted violence and caused young men and boys to feel certain ways toward woman. Now I listened to his music. I completely disagreed and made a very good arguement to why I had disagreed. It was a good paper. My English teacher thought so too. Enough so that she gave me an "A". The only reason I really picked that is, because I remember how much feeling, thought, and hard work went into that paper. To this day whenever I write that's what I think of.

#18 I Believe...

Everyone is unique in his/her own way. Whether it be in thought, style, likes, dislikes, or beliefs. Even though we don't agree with all beliefs, we can accomadate others. In America, we have all different types of beliefs, such as, political, religious, raising our families, or just day to day activities. I am here to share with you my versions of those beliefs. Please, without judgement, hear me out. First, where I stand on political is probably where a lot of people do. I'm a person who will not vote, but loves to critize. I seriously think politics can be a scam. It's empty promises and men with too much power spending my hard earned money. Religion. Well what I have to say about that is this. I believe in God. I was raised a Christian. However, I will not shut out other's beliefs and raisings, because I don't think it is wrong. It can actually make a great conversational piece when you get on the subject of other peoples religions. Raising a family. This one varies. Everyone does it differently. I'm not saying I don't critize this, because I would be lying. No, I don't think others should tell you how to raise your kids, but there are some lines that need to be crossed. I was brought up "Spare the rod, spoil the child". I really never got spankings growing up unless I really deserved it. I don't think you should beat your children or abuse them. However, a good swat doesn't hurt. Day to Day activities. This is just the person you are. Some people believe you get up and you are on a schedule all day. This would be me. Then, you have people like my sister, who love to "Wing it" so to say. I'm not a "Fly by the seat of my pants" type gal. I have to know what I am doing and when I am doing it. My belief is it can make you a better person. I can also cause you to be a perfectionist which I am. This blog was well thought out and changed several times. To wrap it up though. I don't believe in judging someone, because of appearence, social standards, race, or religious backgrounds. I expect that from others. Those are my beliefs.

Writing my Descriptive Paper.

Prewriting my descriptive paper was bitter sweet so to say. I could picture so much, but describing them were completely a different story. I did not know how to put into words what I was picturing. So to answer your questions: How much time did you spend prewriting, and what sorts of prewriting activities did you do? I spent a lot of my free time thinking and writing things down. I did do some, what I call a web, to get my thoughts together. What kinds of conversations did you have about this piece? In my peer response I received feedback from Jaime that really helped me when redoing my paper. How did drafting go? Drafting my paper was rough. Not because I couldn't think of anything, but because I couldn't get my hand to write exactly what I wanted it to. Did you sit in the computer lab and do it all at once, or did you write different bits in different places? I wrote bits and pieces here and there. When a thought came to my head I wrote it down. How happy are you with the product you’ve submitted? I feel ok with this last draft I wrote. Do you already know what you’re going to revise? I'm sure I will think of something that just has to be changed. How has this piece shaped you as a writer and scholar? This piece has shown me as a writer how well details can make you readers and critics really see what is going on.

The Truth, The Whole Truth #13

Hello, my name is Dani. I am 23 years old. I have two sisters, although when I was little I asked for brothers. I work full time for McDonald's Operations Resource Center. I deal with store personnel on a daily basis. I handle store procedures, such as, cook times, hold times, customer service, and important cases. My job is horrible and I hate it, even though it is easy. I don't like it mainly because it is so boring. Sitting at a desk day in and day out. I spend my free time with friends and family. Even though they can and do irritate me I still, with all my heart, love them. I have a very bad temper. I am easy to tick off and I don't let things go very easily. I tend to go over board when I get mad. I end up regretting things I have said later. I am a very truthful person and sometimes I can be too truthful. I believe no matter what you do the truth always comes out eventually. I live by that so I think twice before telling that little white lie. I don't like fake people. What I mean by this is someone who hides who they really are to make others like them. I think everyone’s individuality is what makes them interesting. I hate roses. Absolutely, despise them. I think they are corny and really overrated. I really believe common sense should be embedded to the brain when people are born. I say this because the people I deal with on a day to day basis are dumb. Seriously, how many times can a manager who gets paid more than I do ask how to make a plain cheeseburger? Generally, I like to be around people, but sometimes I like to be alone. I live my life day to day and I try not to waste a minute of it.

If only I were traveling #52

It was suppose to be the best family vacation ever! We were headed to the warm beaches of Miami. I could feel the hot sand under my feet. The sun beaming down on me and I could feel the warmth of a golden tan starting to developed. I could hear the ocean waves splashing on the shore while vacationers from children to adults splashed, laughed, and played for hours. One thing I was not told was we had to go in a car. I hate riding in cars long distances, especially, in the heat. I didn't like how my legs stuck to the seat. I felt like an ant under a magnifying glass. We loaded up in to the car. My father was driving. He looked like Maverick from Top Gun with his pilots glasses on and his white muscle t-shirt. My mother was sitting in the passenger seat with her big, yellow straw hat with a read ribbon around it, her big sunglasses with white rims, her bright red lipstick, and her red tank top that was a couple sizes too small for her. My sister sitting opposite of me with her head phones in listening to the latest music and singing along. Oh how her voice annoys me. She is too high pitched and screeches. The only sound I could relate it to is nails on a chalk board. I myself brought a book, my journal, and all of my Doors CDs. As I listened to Jim Morrison sing "Moonlight Drive" I dreamed of a drive on the beach in a 1969 Cherry Red Chevy Nova with white bucket seats and complete with all white interior. The stereo would be playing "LA Woman" as I cruised down Manhattan Beach in the middle of the night and the moon shining bright. All of the sudden I was startled back to reality by my sister's loud and obnoxious Mario Brothers video game. I couldn't understand the reason for the volume to be so loud. My mother was snoring which was more annoying. She sounded like she was sawing through a rain forest tree. I was sweating the perspiration making my legs stick to the hot leather seats of our beat up sky blue mustang. I had been in this car for what seemed like centuries. I kept asking my dad how much longer and he would respond with, "Not much" or "We're closer than ten minutes ago". By now I was ready to jump out of the car. I didn't care if we were still on the highway. My legs were cramping and I was sore all over. I tried to close my eyes, but I was so annoyed with having to sit for so many hours I could not relax. Finally, we arrived at Miami Beach. I was so overjoyed to be out of our car I jumped up and down all the way to the beach. I said to my parents, "Next time can we fly?"