Extraordinary Event- Roswell

Five days ago the US government covered up one of the largest events to happen on Earth, the arrival of extraterrestrial beings in Roswell, New Mexico. This video of an unnamed agent was leaked and it describes their experience with the beings.

The video appears to have been made on an iPhone camera, with a forest as the backdrop.

          “Today is July thirteenth. I am based near Roswell, New Mexico and this morning around 3:00 am I received a call to immediately investigate a foreign aircraft that landed twenty minutes away from my base at an abandoned warehouse that is currently used by the US government. I groggily climbed out of my bed and put on my uniform for undercover investigations:  black running shoes, grey workout suit, and a black skiing jacket which contained my weapons and badge in case anything went wrong.”

          The agent quickly looks over his shoulder at the sound of birds chirping and begins to whisper.

          “I jumped into my Jeep Cherokee and drove north of the base along a beaten up dirt road. It was eerie outside. Darker than usual due to the unnaturally thick cloud that covered the night sky.  I reached the warehouse and noted immediately that there was something wrong.  Usually the warehouse was in pristine condition even though it hadn’t been used in a few years. Now the CIA was using it to hold a vial of a deadly disease that was created a few years ago in a laboratory without government consent. It is now heavily guarded in this discrete area. Or so we thought…”

          The video cuts out as the man leaps onto his feet and looks around, clearly startled by something.  

“I immediately noticed that all of the windows were broken and the walls were collapsing. None of the security guides were standing nearby and all I could think was ‘where did they go?’ I walked towards the brown warehouse carefully; checking over my shoulder every few seconds to make sure no one was behind me. I tripped, startled by a birdlike chirping noise coming from the forest surrounding the warehouse. It was eerie… I should have thought it through… anyway. I reached the door to the building which was torn off its hinges and was lying inside, the metal frame ripped in half chaotically. I quietly walked inside to see a large unidentified flying object half buried into the ground, clearly destroyed from its landing. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but that’s how they arrived.”

The man gets up at the sound of more bird-like noises and begins to walk towards the warehouse.

“I walked into one of the rooms with high security which was currently left unguarded due to the absence of the guards. I had no idea where they were. I turned on my flashlight. That’s when I saw a long shadow cascading across the floor. And then I turned around and saw It. A man I had never seen before. He looked just like you and me but about two feet taller and skin greener than the grass in late spring-time.”

The man starts walking faster, the video begins to shake slightly with his unstable hand.

“I froze when I saw him, I didn’t even register that he was real. Being in the CIA has taught me to expect everything and anything to happen, but an alien? My eyes drifted down to its hand and I saw that it had the vial clasped in a fist made of its three spindly fingers. I could do nothing but watch as it moved its mouth to talk, but only unintelligible noises came out, ones that I heard while outside of the warehouse. What would it want with the virus? I remember thinking. I pulled out my gun and asked it to hand the vial over. Upon seeing my weapon it fled in the opposite direction. I ran after it as fast as I could. I reached the front door of the warehouse where I saw five of them running into the forest and out of sight. I chased them, shooting at them as I ran. If a bullet hit them I would have no idea. They were gone. Or so I thought, they’re around me right now trying to find me.”

          There is a large snap of a branch and the man begins to run, the video flailing from random scenery. This continues for five minutes until the man is inside the warehouse. He pants out the last of his message.

“I do not know how the aliens got the vial or what they intend to do with it. They’re going to find me and I don’t know what will happen then. I’m making this video to warn everyone. They’re still out there somewhere.”

There is a sound of metal being ripped apart, possibly a door. The man looks at the iPhone, frightened. Suddenly there is a scream as he is taken out of the frame by an alien. Something picks up the iPhone and turns it off. The last image of the video is of a green face smiling down menacingly.

          This iPhone was found inside the warehouse by a security guard three hours later. It is unknown how the contents were leaked onto the Internet. 

News-Inspired Story- Google Glass

          “Three…. Two…. One… Okay! Open your eyes!” Sarah slowly opened her eyes, looking through the lenses of her new Google glasses for the first time. The store didn’t look much different through the virtual lenses than through her own naked eyes, and she felt a slight whisper of disappointment.

          “So there you go! Enjoy them and take care…” The salesman sent her off without another word or any advice or guidance. Sarah walked out of the store, aware that all of the strange glances she was receiving. She was slightly self- conscious of the looks being sent her way, but decided that she would need to ignore them if she was going to enjoy her new “glasses”.

          “Start hangout with Molly” Sarah commanded her glasses. Instantly she saw her best friend Molly’s image displayed on the top right corner of the lenses, which placed her on top of a large building in downtown Portland.

          “Wow! How do you like them?” Molly asked.

          “They’re actually really great! Right now you’re on top of the Hilton hotel!” They both laughed.

          “Well, why don’t you come to my house and show them to me?” Molly pleaded. Sarah giggled in compliance and began to walk towards Molly’s house immediately. It was a beautiful day so instead of taking a bus directly to Molly’s house Sarah decided to take the ten minute walk.

          “Open Facebook” she commanded to her glasses. While walking down the busy sidewalk Sarah composed a Facebook status about her new glasses, while people on the sidewalk dodged out of her way. Sarah was oblivious to her surroundings. Instead focusing on the people walking past her to make sure she wouldn’t run into them, she was composing chats, tweeting, taking pictures and watching YouTube videos. Her glasses made her blind. Sarah was becoming a robot, incapable of awareness. She was completely absorbed in the cyber world of social media.

          Sarah received a message from Molly on Facebook, “Hey, where are you? Shouldn’t you be here by now?” Sarah replied that she must’ve gotten turned around and distracted by the glasses.

          “Glasses, directions to Molly’s house” she commanded the glasses. A map popped up but instead it contained directions to the local park in the opposite direction of Molly’s house. Sarah tried to turn around but found that she had to follow the glasses’ instruction.

          When she arrived at the park Sarah was confused. What is going on? She thought to herself. She looked around and saw that there were about thirty people entering the park as well, all wearing Google Glasses. All of the people wore confused expressions; no doubt they were lead to this location unwillingly as well. Sarah opened her mouth to call out to the other people, but she could not form words. Why are all of these people here?

          Sarah tried to move her body but she was frozen in place. The glasses told her to move towards the fountain in the center of the park, so she did. “Molly, help!” she wrote in a Facebook chat to her best friend. “I’m trapped in my glasses….” Sarah tried to run fear coursing through her body. Again, she remained stationed at the fountain, with more and more people gathering around her. They were all robots, slaves to their technology. 

Travel Piece- A Moment in History

          At 5:00 am my alarm went off, causing my travel roommate and myself to groan groggily in dissatisfaction. We were especially upset since we had only gone to bed recently, due to a late dinner with our travel professor. However, there was no desire from either of us to hit the snooze button on my alarm clock and sleep through the day’s events. Today we would witness history in the making.

          We gave ourselves an hour to get dressed and to fully wake up, and then we left the hotel promptly at 6:00 to walk to the metro station on the outskirts of Rome. The walk was uneventful; at least we all remember it that way since we were experiencing the end-of-academic-travel exhaustion mixed with our lack of sleep. We jumped onto the packed metro and rode it for six stops which took us to the border of the Vatican City. Excitement began to settle in when we followed the thick crowd of people from the metro station only to be blocked by the Vatican City’s gates. But that was when the magic activated.

          When we arrived at the gates they magically opened, allowing the thousands of waiting people to access Saint Peter’s square, the most desired place in Italy –maybe the world- to be that day. As the gates rose, everyone in my group tightly grasped hands so as to not get separated, and we began to sprint through the streets of the Vatican City. We began hollering with excitement for what we were about to witness, my friend Bea waving her Brazilian flag through the air to represent her pride for her homeland. Thousands of people began to yell viva il papa. I was looking up at the sky, trying to remember every detail of the brick walls and the beautiful sky, it was the first day on travel that we had seen the sun. We ran until we approached the security line, but we hardly slowed down. I took off my purse and tossed it carelessly into the x-ray machine, ran through the metal detector and grabbed my purse as quickly as possible so I wouldn’t get left behind. I found Bea’s hand and grasped it once more as we pushed our way through the crowd to get to the front of Saint Peter’s square. We pushed our way to the very front.

          We waited for hours in the most cramped conditions I had ever been in. I had so little room to stand that I was leaning sideways, holding onto the arm of my close friend Matthew just so I wouldn’t fall on top of another person. 9:30 am on the dot we saw what we were all hoping for: a glimpse of the Pope. Pope Francis I drove through the crowd awaiting him before his inauguration, something not commonly done, and something we were not expecting. He drove directly in front of us, waving as he went two meters in front of us. The Pope would continuously stop his car to bless young babies, but there was one moment in particular that brought the millions of people watching to tears. The Pope saw a sick man at the front of the crowd and climbed down from his car to kiss and bless him. The atmosphere changed instantly from joyous to such pure happiness that not one person could hold back a tear. I didn’t even realize that I was crying until Bea turned around and hugged me, her eyes full of tears.

          “This is the most beautiful thing I have ever witnessed” she whispered into my ear while we were hugging. And she was right; I had never seen anything as powerful as that moment, and I’m not sure that I will ever again. 

Six Billion Secrets Poem

Post:

They say girls always hold grudges to the end.

But when I’m mad at someone for something

I make lists.

I list all the things they do/did to me that make me mad

But it always ends up with me making a list of what makes them such a great person.

We may not be friends but that doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re amazing. 

Poem:

1) You cheated on me

“Please don’t” was my plea

2) You never call

Never showed up when I was dressed up like a doll

3) I try to talk to you

To ask you why you’re so blue

All you say is “I’m fine”

And I can see that the fault is all mine

4) But your kind heart

Sweet as a blueberry tart

5) And then there’s your laugh

I could listen to it

For the length of a game

Or just the first half

Ever since our first kiss

It always comes back to this

No matter what you do

I’m still in love with you…

Final Piece- Home

Soon I will travel

from one home to another.

From Lugano:

Warm days and cool evenings,

with rain stronger than I have experienced.

The thunder storms that excite.

The presence of the Swiss Alps

overwhelming and beautiful.

My parents miss me,

my dog misses me

and sleeps on my bed in Bend.

My closest friends,

a residence that has become my family.

My home in Switzerland.

To Bend:

The splendid blue sky

hardly ever trapped by gray clouds.

The place I had never left

until Lugano.

Arriving in the airport

my mother will hug me first.

My dad will smile

and hug me second.

Together we will drive home to my dog,

Daisy.

Daisy will hear my voice and tremble with excitement.

She will run to me and lick my face,

her small stature will be easy to hold in my arms.

I will be welcomed into my home,

and then I will miss Lugano.

Skype dates regularly scheduled

with my friends around the world.

We are never truly separated.

In between:

Crying as I say good-bye to my friends.

Crying when I say hello to my family.

Both homes call to me.

I am sad to leave.

But I am happy to arrive. 

The Night I Got Ditched

    So there I found myself, in the bottom of a ditch. My best friend and I were driving home from a party, one that I did not even want to attend. Evan, my best friend, thinks that I went to the party to be his designated driver. In reality I went to look after him at the party, I didn’t want to find out that he hooked up with some strange girl when I was in love with him. So how did we end up in the bottom of a ditch, while I was driving sober? 

          I’m the girl that never gets invited to those high school cliché parties, probably because I avoid that group as much as possible. Evan, on the other hand, is one of the most desirable seniors at our school, and since he is my best friend that is how I end up going to them.

          The party that was tonight was at Melody Wilson’s house, a girl who lived fifteen minutes south of town, off of a long dirt road. Her house was like the Barbie dream house every girl wanted as a child, but only the rich kids could afford. It was a large deep brown house bordering on a mansion, with a circular driveway packed with cars for the party.

 Of course I said yes when Evan asked I me to drive him to the party even though I completely despised these events. My Honda civic was safer than his VW bug anyway. What was the point in getting extremely drunk and not remembering the night anyway? At least I could watch people and secretly laugh at them, and make sure Evan didn’t do anything too bad…

          I stood in front of my closet for about thirty minutes, trying to find an outfit that would catch Evan’s attention, but not make him think that I was trying too hard. When I finally settled on a simple low- cut black dress that reached to my knees, I drove over to Evan’s house to pick him up.

          The drive to the party was uneventful; we hardly even saw a car on the road. The party was nothing exciting either, lots of underage high schoolers binge drinking, making out, and grinding to obnoxiously loud music. Typical. Evan and I hung out a few times during the party, but I decided that I would rather let him have fun and not force him to try to include me. I found some people I knew from my third period history class and talked to them in the corner of the room, far enough away from the dance mob to not get stepped on, but close enough to see the ridiculous movement my generation called dancing. I danced to a few songs, trying to include myself and have a good time, but in reality I was happier watching everyone.

          Around midnight Evan decided that the party was slowing down, and that we should go to Denny’s and get late night pancakes like we usually do to end the evening. We climbed in my car, a red Honda civic, and turned off of Melody’s dirt road. We were about five miles from town on a straight stretch of road, when I noticed bright headlights coming towards us, swerving on the road, and then they settled on staying in our lane. I didn’t know what to do since the lights were getting closer, making a route of escape less likely with each passing second. The only thing I could do was hope they would get in their original lane. I honked my horn and flashed my lights at them, hoping to make them realize that they were heading straight for us, but to no avail.

At the last second I swerved out of the way off of the road, trying to avoid the truck that was heading straight for us. There were trees lining the side of the road, and all I could do was hope that we didn’t hit one. We flew off the road, and somehow landed into a ditch on the side of the road. We were lucky. My throat was hoarse from all of the screaming I didn’t realize I was doing.  I looked around at the quiet scenery that seemed to not care that a car had disturbed it. I unbuckled my seatbelt and climbed out of the car and into the ditch.

          I assessed the damage, which seemed to be fatal to my car but otherwise nothing seemed to be wrong with Evan or myself. The ditch was tall, maybe six feet in height. I looked out on the road and saw the car that was coming towards us, a black Ford F150. They hit a tree head on off of the other side of the road. They must have swerved at the last minute too. They didn’t seem to be as lucky as Evan and I.

          “Tally” Evan called from inside the car.

          “Yes, Evan?” I asked.

          “I’m so glad that we’re okay, that I was with you. You’re like my sister and I wouldn’t want to be in this situation with anyone else.”

          My heart fell.

So that’s how I found myself, in the bottom of a ditch, the guy I was in love with seeing me as his sister.

Mimi Schwartz “Memoir? Fiction? Where’s the line?” Reading Response

I particularly enjoyed this reading because it helped me with the issue of memoir stories, where do we draw the line? I missed class the day we talked about this, so I found it interesting to discover the line on my own. Schwartz discusses how our memories can sometimes (or often) fail us, so we need to be careful when writing memoir as to what is really true or what is made up. She also points out that we must be especially careful since we cannot know when we don’t truly remember something the way it was, and asking someone else who shared the experience doesn’t really matter since they will have the same memory dilemma. Schwartz cleverly solves this dilemma by saying that perhaps you remember the situation or person in a specific way, and that you should describe it/them the way you remember so that other people can picture them the same way.

          I loved the quote from Pam Houston, “I write fiction to tell the truth” because I believe that there is always some hint of truth behind works of fiction.  However this also blurs the line between memoir and fiction and the writer must decide where to draw the line if they are trying to write memoir.

          I also enjoyed when Schwartz discussed how to use fiction to protect certain people who do not particularly want to be included in the story. Another quote that was helpful was “the story is 90 percent factual; the rest is made up to protect those who didn’t as to be in this book”. I think it is necessary to do this because sometimes you need the characters to be in the story to fully capture it, but the person may not want to be in the story. This way you can create a fictional character that does similar things but protects the person’s identity.

          Overall this reading was very helpful, especially since I missed the class where this topic was discussed. 

Margaret Atwood “Happy Endings” Reading Response

I enjoyed this reading because it gives six different endings to the story “John and Mary meet”, all of which are radically different from the one before them. The only particularly happy ending is A, yet readers are still slightly dissatisfied because the ending was “too simple”.

          This reading helped me with endings because it showed me that even though as a writer I want to give the characters a happy ending, there are much more interesting stories to be told from those that do not have the simple happy ending. Each ending gets progressively darker, but they become so interesting. Atwood does a fantastic job at showing readers how many different possibilities for endings there can be.

          At the end, Atwood claims that “the only authentic ending is the one provided here: John and Mary die. John and Mary die. John and Mary die.” Then she proceeds to say that it’s more of the beginning that matters instead of the end. This leaves me with the idea that beginnings are what really count, because in the end all of the characters will “die”. However according to Atwood, the plot is the most difficult, and only the most talented writers can make it important. Overall this reading was very helpful since it put into context how important the entire story is. 

Taking a few Characters out to Dinner

This is a short paragraph inspired by the book “Handle with Care”, written by Jodi Picoult.      

The family was seated at a large booth in the local Chinese restaurant. They didn’t usually eat meals together unless they went to a restaurant and were forced into having quality family time. The talk was minimal and awkward at best until the waiter began to bring out their meal: plates full of pork fried rice, steamy sesame beef, simple white rice, spicy orange chicken, and their famous scrumptious egg flour soup. Instantly it was if they were a family again, not a congregation of strangers forced to spend time together. They were asking each other to pass plates of this or that food, loading out portions of soup for one another. At one point the dad asked the youngest son if he would like some of the orange chicken dish, which lifted the boy’s spirits since that was the nicest thing his father had said to him since… well, the last time they ate at a restaurant together.

Limerick

Once upon a time I was in love
Our hands fit together like a glove
We'd stay up late into the night
Everything felt so right
Then it all ended with a shove

Why I Dislike Writing Poetry

I’d rather write prose

The right thing to say, who knows?

Poetry isn’t easy

It usually ends up too cheesy

Including a cliché

A summary of your day

Looking for inspiration in your front yard

Poetry is just too hard

Zoomed- In Train Station

Mounds of grey and brown rocks beneath the metal tracks. They create a path for travelling. Cigarette butts strewn over the rocks, tossed aside by their owners once their foul smell is extinguished. The taste of the leftover cigarette put out, like its insignificant flame.  The smooth rocks interrupted by the company of the cigarettes. Grey and brown, with the disturbance of the unpleasant tan color. The rocks aren’t disturbed by the trampling of feet, only the garbage mingled within it.

My Six Billion Secrets

Post:

They say girls always hold grudges to the end.

But when I’m mad at someone for something

I make lists.

I list all the things they do/did to me that make me mad

But it always ends up with me making a list of what makes them such a great person.

We may not be friends but that doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re amazing.

Poem:

1) You cheated on me

“Please don’t” was my plea

2) You never call

Never showed up when I was dressed up like a doll

3) I try to talk to you

To ask you why you’re so blue

All you say is “I’m fine”

And I can see that the fault is all mine

4) But your kind heart

Sweet as a blueberry tart

5) And then there’s your laugh

I could listen to it

For the length of a game

Or just the first half

Ever since our first kiss

It always comes back to this

No matter what you do

I’m still in love with you…

Elizabeth Bishop, Questions of Travel

This poem brings up the idea of travelling, and why people should travel versus staying home. People travel all over the world to see “rare” sights and objects, but why? While Bishop never tells the reader what to think and allows them to come to the conclusion on the benefits of travelling, this is still a highly effective poem. It left me thinking about why I like to travel. I like to experience new places, cultures, and meet new people, and I would not be able to accomplish this at home.

          Bishop begins her poem with imagery of waterfalls, alluring the reader into wanting to see the waterfall, to experience its beauty. When I read the opening stanza of the poem I thought Bishop was going to encourage readers to travel as often as possible and see as many “waterfalls” as they could, but then she talks about staying at home and imagining the waterfall instead.

          I particularly enjoyed when Bishop seemed to contradict herself when she would describe an image of travel, glorify it, and then ask if it is really necessary to go and see it versus imagining it at home. I could use this technique in my writing to make it more mysterious, by not telling the reader what I want them to think, and allowing them to decide for themselves.

          Questions Of Travel is an effective work, making the reader question what the poem is trying to tell them. Personally, I do not like reading something that tells me what the answer is, which may explain why I enjoy works by Plato. To me, this piece is effective and powerful because it leaves me to determine what the author is trying to say.

Ernest Hemingway, A Clean, Well- Lighted Place

The first time I read something by Hemingway, I found it difficult because of his writing style. Now that I am older and have more experience with reading and writing, I have come to appreciate his incredible writing style. This appreciation came shortly after when my creative writing class attempted to mimic his writing style and not use adjectives in describing things. I was only able to write one sentence in the five minutes I was given to do the exercise.

          I enjoyed Hemingway’s subtle culture infusions in his writing. He does not state that the story takes place in a Spanish speaking country, but rather reveals it towards the end when the waiters speak party in Spanish, and call each other hombre. I could use these subtle clues in my writing when creating a setting. Instead of stating where the characters are, I could develop clues about where they are, known as showing the readers instead of telling them.

          I enjoyed this reading because I was able to follow the story quite easily but it was still interesting to read. The characters were mysterious and well developed in the short span of the story. However, I was left questioning who the characters were out of context of the café, but maybe Hemingway wanted readers to determine that for themselves.

This story convinced me to start trying to read more of Hemingway’s works, because I have a lot to learn from him.

Summary vs Scene Activity

The purpose of this activity is to teach us how to write summaries and scenes, and the difference between them. We were supposed to choose an accident and write a one sentence summary, a one paragraph summary, one scene, and one slowed down scene. I chose to write about my skiing accident. 

1 sentence summary:

I was skiing down the worst downhill on the racecourse when my teammate crashed into me.

1 paragraph summary:

The cross country ski team’s annual Hoodoo night race was usually the most fun and the most dangerous race to compete in. It was fun because we took over the Alpine skier’s course and therefore extremely dangerous due to the severe angle of the hills. There was one hill in particular we were told to be wary of, the last one. It was the most frightening because it had poor lighting, sharp turns, and it was iced over the night we were skiing on it. Everything was great during my race until I reached the dangerous hill, the one that completed the first of the two laps. I slowed down to prevent myself from crashing when my own teammate failed to go around me and crashed into me.

1 full scene

I steadied my speed, which unfortunately would mean that I would lose my top ten finish that I was aiming for. I didn’t care; however, I’d rather finish this race. As I slowed down I heard my teammate Autumn yelling behind me.

“Don’t slow down!” 

“Go around me!” I yelled back at her.

Suddenly I was on the ground, my head smacking against the ice, and ski equipment of numerous other competitors also tangling up with my limbs. More people piling on me.

It was a while later that I awoke from some sort of sleep to someone obnoxiously screaming at the top of their lungs. It took me a few seconds to realize that it was me.

My friend Peter (who was waiting for the boy’s race to start) heard the commotion and came running up the hill toward me. He scooped me up by my arms and carried me off the course as another girl crashed where I had just been sprawled out.

“Taylor, can you stand?” Peter asked me as tried to gently set me on my feet. I couldn’t respond but by my legs giving out underneath me Peter knew that the answer was no. Peter loosened his grip and set me down on the ground, and ran off to grab my coach, telling the nearby coaches of the other teams to call a snow mobile to take me off the course.

Being the stubborn person that I am, I took that opportunity to struggle to my feet and finish the race.

1 scene slowed down:

          I angled my brand new Fischer racing skate skis, removing them from their parallel speed-inviting position. The trail was icier than I originally thought, making slowing down a bumpy and difficult process. I knew that slowing my pace here would mean losing my position in the top ten that I was currently in. But that didn’t matter to me anymore; I just didn’t want to fall on this hill.

          “Don’t slow down!” my teammate Autumn yelled from behind me.

          “Go around me!” I screamed back at her, annoyed that she would criticize my decision to slow down when I had three more years of skiing experience than her.

          Suddenly I was on the ground. My unprotected head smacking ruthlessly against the icy trail. Bodies of other competitors were piling on top of me, banging their poles and skis around trying to regain their footing, not caring that they were harming me in the process. I struggled to look up for a second to catch my breath, only to see Autumn hurrying away.

          But then it was blissfully dark. Quiet. Painless. I was somewhere else entirely, and that made me happy.

          And then I was woken up by someone screaming. A harsh scream louder than I thought someone could make. Then I realized that it was me screaming.

          Two coaches from one of the other competing schools were on the sideline watching, not appearing to care what was happening in front of them since I wasn’t from their school. All they did was yell at me to get off of the course.

          “I can’t move!” I yelled back at them after multiple attempts to move my body. I was trying to get out of the way of oncoming skiiers but it was impossible. One of the coaches walked up to me and grabbed my left hand and began to pull. The only effect this had was me letting loose a stream of impolite words since he had just grabbed my cracked thumb. I instantly felt bad because it wasn’t his fault, I had taken off my cast so I could race so there was no way he could have known.

          This caused the coach to step back as my friend Peter came sprinting up the hill. He yelled at the coach for not getting me off of the field to which he replied, “If we moved her off the course she would have been disqualified.”

          Peter ignored this comment and lifted me into his arms, careful not to touch my left hand or move my neck in case something was wrong with my head. He carried me to the sideline just as I watched a girl crash were I was just helplessly laying.

          He tried to set me on my feet but quickly gripped tightly when my legs buckled- I hadn’t regained control of my legs yet. Peter carefully set me on the ground out of harm’s way, told the coaches for the other team to call a snow mobile that would take me off of the course, and then he ran to get my coach.

          As soon as Peter was gone, I used my arms and poles to put myself back on my feet. If this would be the end to my skiing career, I wanted to at least finish my last race. Little did I know, the only thing that would be unscathed from my crash would be my brand new skis.

Make- up blog post

I missed class a couple weeks ago so I decided to make up the blog work by doing two activities this week.

The first activity is called "Bear at the Door". This activity focuses on a character with an external conflict (such as a bear at the door) with an internal conflict at odds with it.

       Ellie is in the kitchen heating up water for tea, a small task to occupy her time while she waited for Veronica to arrive. Ellie hasn't seen her since Veronica left for college last fall in Montana, hours away from their hometown in Washington. Now it was springtime, and it has been the longest time they've spent apart. 

       Ellie taps her bare feet against the smooth wood flooring, glancing outside occasionally in anticipation of Veronica's white VW bug pulling up in the driveway. Ian, Ellie's brother, walks by the front door near the kitchen with a flower vase he was carrying to the kitchen. Ian is going to wash the vase for the flowers his father had purchased for their mother that afternoon. He lets out a quick yelp as the vase falls from his grasp and shatters against the floor. 

       Just at that moment Veronica's car pulls into the driveway, the sun's glare reflecting off of the headlights, which catches Ellie's attention and draws her mind away from the broken shards of glass scattered near the front door. 

       Ellie begins to run for the front door but stops at the broken glass. She sees her best friend walking towards her, but she can't cross through the doorway through the glass because she left her shoes upstairs. She wants to run to Veronica but instead has to wait painstakingly as her friend walks through the front door, eyes smiling and arms wide open for a hug. 

Rewrite of “Three Little Pigs” as a romance, starting at the second pig

 Mr. Wolf was walking down the street, feeling dejected from his failed attempt to impress Milly. He was fast approaching the house of Lilly, the smartest pig in all the land. Her house was made of sticks, and resided in a small yet thick group of trees.

          Since Lilly was the smartest pig, Mr. Wolf wanted to impress her with his voice by serenading her. He quickly rehearsed a song in his head, Justin Bieber’s “Boyfriend”. Surely all girls would swoon at hearing that song sung to her, he thought.

          Mr. Wolf knocked on Lilly’s door and awaited her fast approaching footsteps.

          “Who is it?” She called out.

          “It’s Mr. Wolf, let me in please!” He replied.

          “Not unless you manage to impress me,” she said.

          “Okay.”

          Mr. Wolf cleared his throat and re-adjusted his feet to sing, but tripped over a fallen branch and crashed into Lilly’s house and knocked it over. Not again, Mr. Wolf thought as he walked away from Lilly’s house and towards Tilly, the last bachelorette pig. 

Point of View Exercise (Tense Situation)

1) First person

"Honey, what's wrong?" Ian asks me as he reaches his hand across the table at our booth in the diner. 

I pull my hand away and cross my arms, not wanting to hold his hand because it will just make everything harder. I’ve rehearsed this moment so many times in my head over the past two days, but it’s much easier to imagine our breakup than actually verbalizing it to Ian. But why should I care what he thinks? He doesn’t really have feelings for me, he’s only pretending to. And that’s why we have to break up; I love him and he’s only leading me on. “Well…” I start, “it’s nothing.” I trail off, losing my nerve.

“Honey, it’s clearly something. Come on, you know that you can talk to me.” Ian replies.

I try to look into his eyes as I’m about to tell him that we can’t see each other anymore. His dark blue eyes gaze back at me and I lose my courage yet again.

“Well, why don’t I start?” Ian suggests. “I invited you here because I wanted to tell you something important, and I chose this place because knew it is your favorite place, so… well here it goes.”

I fidget underneath the table, unable to anticipate what he is about to say.

“These last few months have been amazing, and I never thought I would have such strong feelings for you. I guess what I have to say is that I love you, Julie.”

I stare back at Ian, unable to figure out what to say. He completely took me by surprise.

“I guess that wasn’t going where I thought it was… I don’t know how to respond.”

2) Third limited omniscient

          “Honey, what’s wrong?” Ian asks his girlfriend Julie as he reaches for her hand across the table at their booth in the diner.

          Julie pulls her hand away quickly; she is uncomfortable by the physical contact since it will make breaking up with Ian so much harder. Julie thought about all of the times she had rehearsed this exact moment over the last two days, but breaking up with Ian in person was probing to be much harder.But then again, she thought, why should I care how Ian will feel about breaking up since he’s only leading me on? She couldn’t figure out why it took her even this long to break it off with him.

          “Well,” Julie starts “it’s  nothing…” she trails off, losing her nerve.

          “Honey, it’s clearly something. Come on, you know that you can talk to me.” Ian replies.

          Julie tries to look into Ian’s eyes as she tries to start the uncomfortable conversation. His dark blue eyes gaze deeply into her pale brown ones, causing her to lose her nerve yet again.

          “Well, why don’t I start?” Ian suggests. “I invited you here because I wanted to tell you something important, and I chose this place because I knew it is your favorite, so… well here it goes” Ian pauses.

          Julie fidgets underneath the booth table, unable to anticipate what Ian is trying to say.

          Ian took a large breath as the words rush out of his mouth, “These last few months have been amazing, and I never thought I would have such strong feelings for you… I guess what I have to say is that I love you, Julie.”

          Julie stares back at Ian, unable to figure out what to say. He completely shocked her and took her by surprise. “I guess that wasn’t going where I thought it was… I don’t know how to respond.”

3) Third objective

          “Honey, what’s wrong?” Ian asks his girlfriend Julie as he reaches his hand across the booth at their table at the diner.

          Julie immediately pulls her hand away and crosses her arms, avoiding the physical contact that Ian offered her. Julie openly frowns and appears to be very conflicted. “Well,” she starts. “It’s nothing” she trails off, losing the nerve to say what she was about to say.

          “Honey, it’s clearly something. Come on, you know you can talk to me.”

          Julie looks up to make eye contact with Ian but she quickly loses her nerve and looks back down at the table.

“Well, why don’t I start?” Ian suggests. “I invited you here because I wanted to tell you something important, and I chose this place because I knew it is your favorite, so… well here it goes” Ian pauses.

          Julie fidgets underneath the booth table, unable to anticipate what Ian is trying to say.

          Ian took a large breath as the words rush out of his mouth, “These last few months have been amazing, and I never thought I would have such strong feelings for you… I guess what I have to say is that I love you, Julie.”

          Julie stares back at Ian, unable to figure out what to say. He completely shocked her and took her by surprise. “I guess that wasn’t going where I thought it was… I don’t know how to respond.”

4) Third omniscient

          “Honey, what’s wrong?” Ian asks his girlfriend Julie as he reaches for her hand across the table at their booth in the diner. Ian is concerned because Julie has hardly made eye contact all lunch, and he thinks there is something wrong with her.

          Julie pulls her hand away quickly; she is uncomfortable by the physical contact since it will make breaking up with Ian so much harder. Julie thought about all of the times she had rehearsed this exact moment over the last two days, but breaking up with Ian in person was probing to be much harder.But then again, she thought, why should I care how Ian will feel about breaking up since he’s only leading me on? She couldn’t figure out why it took her even this long to break it off with him.

          “Well,” Julie starts “it’s  nothing…” she trails off, losing her nerve, making Ian even more worried.

          “Honey, it’s clearly something. Come on, you know that you can talk to me.” Ian replies, thinking of all the times he has supported Julie.

          Julie tries to look into Ian’s eyes as she tries to start the uncomfortable conversation. His dark blue eyes gaze deeply into her pale brown ones trying to encourage her, but instead causes her to lose her nerve yet again.

          “Well, why don’t I start?” Ian suggests. “I invited you here because I wanted to tell you something important, and I chose this place because I knew it is your favorite, so… well here it goes” Ian pauses, getting nervous.

          Julie fidgets underneath the booth table, unable to anticipate what Ian is trying to say.

          Ian took a large breath as the words rush out of his mouth, “These last few months have been amazing, and I never thought I would have such strong feelings for you… I guess what I have to say is that I love you, Julie.”

          Julie stares back at Ian, unable to figure out what to say. He completely shocked her and took her by surprise. “I guess that wasn’t going where I thought it was… I don’t know how to respond.”

Personally I like the third person omniscient view because it was easiest to write, but the third person objective is more effective because it forces the writer to show instead of tell the reader what is going on.