Picture means a trillion words try #2

Today I visited an old tavern

What a beautifully crafted place

An open, inviting space made purely of wood

With the glass bottles shining rays across the room

While I wander the first floor around the bar

The air is thick but sweet

The smell of old books and lumber

Coupled with the dust kicked up by my exploration

I stood still for a moment

Hearing the muffled words of conversations preserved in time

Faint music from the 20’s

Clanking of bottles against glasses

Glugs of whiskey escaping its cage

A whiff of cigar smoke too

I snap a photo of the bar

Hoping the atmosphere was captured

Reflection #2

My short story was workshopped first this class period which made me a little nervous! I was nervous because I hadn’t really liked the story as I was writing it because I didn’t think I was writing the way I should have to be able to get my point across. That misconception was blown out of the water because everyone seemed to have got the message I was going for! It also made me feel better since everyone said they did like it overall. I feel like it was way more of an emotional story than the previous story I wrote and that’s why I was so nervous about not getting the right point across. I wasn’t planning on considering this story for my apprentice book at all, but I think it will be a good contender when I fix it up a little bit! For the future of this story, I plan on making the disappointment/loneliness/abandonment feelings a lot stronger. Whether it be me keeping the story at the time it’s set, or I might go with Jesse’s suggestion on making this the backstory and reworking the story into the first semester the main character is without June. I’m leaning more toward the second option, but we’ll see what my brain thinks up in the next few days!

Short Story 2: Girlfriends

Girlfriends

“Let’s go stargaze!” She says. She slapped her hand against mine, squeezing with such force even an alligator would be tamed. I was in the middle of homework at my desk, shocked to say the least at the sudden burst of energy my roommate had. She had been on tiktok for at least an hour, why were we going out now?

I was barely able to slip on my birkenstocks before she whipped the door open, almost  smashing a whole in the wall during the process. She was dragging me along and I didn’t even get to say yes or no, just being pulled against my will to an unknown spot to stargaze at 2am. She was practically running down the stairs to lead me outside. “Oh my god bro chill you’re gonna rip my hand off!” We laughed and her grip loosened just slightly, not enough to get away. I didn’t really want us to separate though, any moment spent with her is a blessing to me.

She smashed her shoulder into the door causing a loud echo through the stairwell. I was led into a hefty slap of cold, moist, night air that I hadn’t felt in so long. I’m sort of an old lady when it comes to staying up late. I’m usually fast asleep by 9pm and I usually liked it that way. After meeting June for the first time at the start of freshman year, that old lady trend had slowly melted away. 

I was assigned a new roommate since the original had decided she found someone better to live with. What a blessing in disguise that departure was. June and I had instantly bonded over our favorite boy band and animes we liked to watch. We had come from such different lives that these were the only two things we had in common. She came from a huge city across the U.S. while I grew up in a tiny town in Massachusetts that no one knew. She liked dressing up while I preferred to dress comfy with no coordination of patterns or colors. She had long hair and acrylic nails while I dyed my hair neon every other month.

My eyes would be so heavy in the midst of our late night talks yet we had so much more we wanted to tell each other. About our highschools, about our friends from home, about ourselves, we always saved a little fact to share at the next late night meeting. Going to class would always be met with a warm welcome home from her and vice versa. We would only go out to eat with each other, only study with each other, only laugh with each other, cry with each other. Nothing was better than this.

I slipped and fell due to the dew on the shimmery moonlit grass, pulling her right down with me as her hand was still locked onto mine. 

“Good lord that’s gonna hurt in the morning, aye.” I pushed through my teeth as I dramatically rubbed my tailbone. 

“Good news the health center opens at 8am, very convenient!”

“Te-he Jay, you’re hilarious” I rolled my eyes up toward the stars and ended back at her, she was staring straight up at the moon.

“I’m the funniest person I know” She cracked a smile at me. She’s one of the funniest people I know, but I’d never tell her even if I was bribed. 

The wetness started to creep through the fibers of my clothes. The anxiety and claustrophobia tightened upon me as did the sleeves of my shirt and the legs of my pants. The feeling of wet clothes sticking to my skin as I lay only worsened the fear of laying on the grass where bugs run free. They were probably crawling on me at this very moment, maybe making their way onto my bare skin through the dry patches in my clothes, yet to be drenched in the dew.

She had let go of my hand, no longer being protected by my one truest friend from the dew, the creepy crawlies. My eyes wandered toward the moon, the same one June was viewing just inches to my left. The moon shone with vigor upon us, the grass, and the river that was running by us on our right. The bright white light emanating from the moon was intermittently covered with passing clouds and the steam rising from our warm breath in the cold November night.

June was never this quiet. The crickets and frogs screamed at us from the shore, as if we were invading their homes. June was full of life just ten minutes ago in our dorm, pulling me out into the dark to be laid under the moon and stars with no inclination of even a whisper to come. 

“Hey” I poke her stomach, which I’m happily met with a gasp of shock and a stare that could pierce through my skull. “Is everything all right? You’re super quiet right now and that’s usually my job you know”

It was my job. I am always the one to listen to every detail she throws my way. Always with a smile on my face I would listen to her wonderful stories of adventure, the mundane, or her dreadful past. I loved being the friend who took everything in, who cherished every sentence that came from her lips. I’ve dreamt of being the only person she trusts with her secrets and desires.

“Everything is not okay but we can talk about that later. I’m sure we’ve both had a pretty rough day today. I don’t want to ruin our little stargazing sesh, you know?” 

We did have a rough day. In fact I’d say we both had a terrible day. It was the 2nd to last day of our finals and we both came home to immediately take naps. Neither of us ate anything until just an hour ago, that being the delicious and nutritious beef flavored instant ramen. 

“I don’t mind if you spill your guts to me right now. You don’t even have to look at me, you can look at the moon!” The moons’ reflection on us was blocking us from viewing any other stars surrounding it. Like a car coming at you with headlights blaring, you had to look far to the left or right to even notice the faint undulation of light coming from the few lonely stars wandering in the night sky.

She never liked to make eye contact, always fidgeting with her blanket when we had chats in the dark even after we had both said goodnight. I could always see her in the yellow light that passed through our blinds from the lamp on the path right outside our window. I bet even now under the moonlight she wouldn’t be able to make out my features as well as I can hers.

The wetness had begun to creep further up my clothes to the point where I couldn’t fight the anxiety any longer. I shot up and held onto my knees, my butt sinking further into the ground. My back cracked and my shirt clung to me as the cold air formed tiny icicles between its threads. So much for thermal underwear.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while” she blurts out, completely ignoring the fact I was shivering. “I’ve been afraid to tell you honestly.” She sounded choked up. Turning to look over my shoulder I saw she was frozen in the same position she started in. Staring straight up at the moon, eyes focused and stuck on its craters. “I don’t think I can go here anymore.”

It felt like an eternity until those words had processed through the folds of my brain. I inhaled sharply, causing daggers to stab all the way through my throat and lungs with the chill air. I hoped I was quiet enough so she wouldn’t hear. “H-how come?” I’m staring at her now, pleading that she’s lying to me. Heart pounding faster as each frog croaks in the distance and each cricket strums its leg, blaring in my ears to fill the silence she has left me with.

“I just simply can’t pay for it anymore, especially since I’ve been struggling so much to keep up with my classes.” She’s been struggling? She seemed mostly happy, I mean we all have our days but I didn’t think she was failing any classes or anything. “I didn’t want to worry you, but I needed to tell you before tomorrow. I didn’t want to leave you at the airport thinking I’ll be back in the spring when I won’t be. I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me.”

How could she ever think I would be disappointed? Disappointed? Disappointed in someone I looked up to? Disappointed in someone who helped me through the toughest times I’ve had in my life? The person who should be disappointed right now is her. She should be mad at me for not noticing her struggles, not helping with her internal turmoil and pain. 

“I would never be disappointed in you, how could you think that? I’m proud of you for coming to this decision. That was a really hard realization to come to and I’m so proud of you for noticing that this isn’t what you want for yourself. You’re amazing, you know that?” 

“I feel like a failure but it’s fine,” She chuckles. I can hear the blockage in her throat form, “I’m just upset I have to leave you.” 

“Me? What? Why?” 

“I love living with you, I don’t want to go back home. We have so much fun and I don’t want you to be sad, so you’re not allowed to be sad.” She did a crunch and extended her pointer finger only inches from my face “You got that?”

Little did she know, tears were welling up in my eyes at the thought of being without her. She was the only person I ever did anything with. I hate being alone and doing things alone, no wonder why she knew I’d be upset. Sniffling, trying to suck the tears back into my eyes, I tried to muster a laugh. The laugh turned into a full on sob when I noticed June already had tears streaming down her cheek and into her ear as she laid back down. 

“I’m obviously sad to see you go since you’re my only friend, but you have to do this for yourself. You’re not allowed to stay just because you like living with me.” We were supposed to rent an apartment together next year, as juniors. I guess that day will never come.

“You’re the reason why this decision was so hard dude,” She’s also sniffling like a baby, “You’re the only reason I want to stay.”

“Well, I told you, you aren’t allowed to stay because of me.” I choked out. My brain was pulling on my tongue, refusing to say the syllables. I laid down once more, next to the one person in the whole world who understood me. 

The tears flooded my eyes, shooting the light from the moon and stars every which way. No matter how hard I blinked, the tears had kept flowing. I was positive we were both crying, minds racing of what life is actually going to look like without each other. The moon had heard our whimpers for too long. One moment the moon had been beaming down on us, the next she was covered by a translucent cloud brought in from the left as a chilling gust of wind passed through us. 

I wiped the tears from my eyes with the already half soaked cuff of my sleeve. My under-eyes were soaked but I could finally see. I could see the stars huddling the moon, not just from left to right, but all throughout the sky. Billions and billions of them up there just blinking their beautiful light. Big and small, close and far from one another. It was wonderful how these stars slowly danced through the night waiting for the day to arrive. 

“Gosh those frogs are yelling so loud tonight.” She whispers, slightly chuckling to herself as if we didn’t just have the shortest, most life altering conversation. 

“They really are.” I sniffled.

“Are you ready to go inside yet?”

“Just a couple more minutes I think.”

I could stay out here for an infinite amount of hours if it meant she wouldn’t have to leave my side. The one I had grown closest to, was going to become out of my reach in just under 24 hours. She had decided her new path, while mine had been decided long ago. I was never going to leave her side, while she needed to leave mine in hopes of finding her new, happier path in life.

We chatted as I drove her to the airport. Our last final finished, our final day spent as roommates was nearly over. Her side of our room was picked clean, as if I had lived alone the whole semester. 

She grabbed her luggage from the popped trunk of my car, the car she loved and praised so much. The car that harbored so many adventures for us in just the one short semester I had with her as a licensed driver. 

She stopped in front of me, with luggage rolled to her side. She threw her arms around my ribcage and I wrapped my arms around her neck. I felt as though I was choking her with the amount of force I had been holding in. She never let me hug her, but this one time was the exception. As soon as she stepped away from my embrace, my grasp, my home grabbed her luggage and waved me goodbye. Stepping closer and closer to the revolving doors before her. Soon, she was out of my sight.

Reflection

At the workshop today my story was workshopped second out of the three. I was really nervous at first but starting off with what everyone liked about the story really helped with the anxiety over the whole workshopping process. After that I started to really enjoy hearing about what people didn’t like/understand, especially the fact that almost everyone thought it felt murder-y! One thing I found really interesting was that some of the people in class had assigned genders to the characters. I didn’t expect it because I used they/them/theirs throughout the whole story for both of my characters. I’m not sure if there is anything I could do to make it any more gender neutral than it already is. Although, it makes sense that some people would try to imagine the characters on the gender binary because majority of the stories we read nowadays do not have gender non-conforming characters. One thing I found difficult was for me to take notes on what people were saying. It was difficult for me because my brain processes information a little bit slower so I wasn’t able to write down everything that I wanted to. But, with the bullet points I was able to get down I know where I want to improve my story and possibly take it further. 

Everyone seemed to like the parts where it got really emotional, so I want to expand further with that. I will probably add more emotional elements for both characters and try to explain more of the characters backgrounds in the coming drafts. I also really want to develop both characters a little more, especially Q because I feel like I barely have them talk about themselves. I love writing this story and I am very excited to continue on with more emotional moments to let the readers in on each character’s background! (Hopefully making Sunny look less murder-y).

Short Story Step 3

Falling. Falling down a space that my brain can’t decipher between a small tunnel or a deep chasm. I try to scream but my body restricts me in preparation for the catastrophic landing that will happen soon. There was nothing but darkness after my torch had fizzled out from me carelessly waving it around in awe of the cave I was so innocently exploring. My hand had lost its grip on the torch as I tripped into the hole I’m falling endlessly through. 

 It’s now getting increasingly humid as I plummet to who knows where. Maybe I’m finally nearing my death I had predicted at the start of this fall? It continues to grow harder to breathe, feeling more like a hot steamer blowing up my nostrils. I splash, head first, into warm water. My brain struggles to try and find a possible solution to why I am not dead and why there was no signage of a dangerous entrance to a hot spring in this cave. 

Most of the area surrounding me is still quite dark and seemingly endless. My eyes are trying their best to adjust to the extremely dim environment around me. Scanning the shore I noticed an oil lamp not far off the shore of where I plunged into the spring. I quickly swam over to it. Like a moth to a flame I clung to the only light source in the room, having the light in my possession gave me a sense of safety. I picked the lamp up off its post and stood there for a second in my dripping and shivering wet clothes. It’s freezing once you’re out of the water and since it’s so humid in this part of the cave there’s no way I’m going to get dry soon. As I looked down at my feet to examine my soaked sneakers I noticed footprints just a bit larger than mine. I put my foot next to them cautiously to make sure neither my eyes or my mind were playing tricks on me. “Nope, those are definitely not mine.” My eyes follow them and their trail leads far past the reach of the lamp. I look to my left, to my right, and turn around, the tracks aren’t anywhere but ahead of me. I shrug, “Makes sense,” there is nothing but a jagged rock wall behind me so there’s no reason to check for a way out.

Following the new tracks I’ve just found my anxiety heightens to a 10. I’m not sure if these footprints are new or old, and even worse I have no idea if the person is here in the cave with me or not. If they are, how would I get away? Would I actually die down here? There’s no way I could die down here if I didn’t already die from the fall.  Suddenly the prints have led me to a fork in the road, but they only go left. “Oh jeez,” I don’t know why I am trusting these footprints but I make the turn and can immediately see a person already headed my way. They’re a lot taller than me with curly hair, they also have a dog beside them, it seems like they’re talking to the dog. The dog barks and I freeze. It saw me, and it barked. The person’s head shoots up to look in the direction of the bark and I sprint back the way I came.

The footsteps of this person sounded as if they were sprinting away from a disaster. As I rounded the corner I fell to the ground, how could I slip at a time like this? My lamp had gone out as soon as it hit the floor. I slammed my eyes shut and covered my ears in fear preparing for the worst when I felt a gust of air pass around my body. My eyes burst open to a person around my age, 16 or 17, holding what seems to be the same kind of oil lamp that I had in their right hand. They were waving wildly at me with their left and had a huge smile on their face. I look at them in shock with underlying horror. They softened their smile and lent me a hand so I could get up. My heart rate is steadily increasing but my body refuses to move. They seem confused as to why I didn’t take their hand. As if they aren’t a random stranger who ran up on me in a cave!

We stare at each other, seemingly trying to figure one another out in the small amount of light we have to see. After about 15 seconds I got uncomfortable and decided to stand up and dust the dirt off my clothes. The person had no longer offered me their hand, at least they got the message. As I dust myself off I noticed they had started walking around me. “Hey! Where are you going? What are you doing?” I jumped back startled. “Don’t worry I’m just picking up the lamp you killed.” The person chuckled at their own joke as they picked up the few broken pieces of the lamp and shoved them into their leather satchel bag resting on their hip. Their voice was like soft, smooth, buttery caramel. 

The stranger passes by me as they whistle to their dog who is so loyally heeling by their side. Before I could even utter another word they were ushering me back in the direction they came from. Now I am scared all over again because we are walking into the darkness with just one small lamp that produces enough light to see the floor only right beneath us. The ground is mostly dirt with some pebbles here and there. The stranger reached their hand behind them, open wide asking for me to take it. “Why do I need to hold your hand exactly?” “Because there are little potholes here and there that you might miss and you don’t need a sprained ankle down here I assure you.” They are so matter-of-fact in their wording while also sounding playful which I wasn’t even sure was possible. Groaning, I take their hand and walk closely behind, nearly stepping on their heels every other step. There’s no way of knowing if this is a path other than the fact the person holding my hand is very confident in the direction they are leading me. In the small amount of light we have I can examine what this person dragging me along looks like more thoroughly, at least from the back. Their hair is curly and extremely bouncy as we walk along, very obviously well taken care of. They’re also wearing a white pirate looking blouse covered in dirt marks with a vest over it and some pants that have been tied up to be shorts. This person seems like they might have been down here a long time given the disheveledness of their clothes, I can only imagine what I look like right now. 

After about 4 minutes of walking we took a left turn and we could no longer see the fork in the road that led to my original entrance point. We slowed to a more gentle pace as a new landmark came into view. The mysterious person tightens their grip on my hand just enough to convey their obvious excitement. Although I may not know this person who seemingly rescued me, I could most definitely feel the change in their emotion and body language as we approached what looks to be a little makeshift clubhouse. As they continued to lead me towards the underground encampment, I realized their dog had run ahead of us and was wagging its tail awaiting our arrival at the fort’s door. 

A smile arose on the strangers face as they ran towards their dog. Looking back at me over their shoulder as they ran they yelled, “This is my dog Sweet Pea!” they turned to the dog “You helped me rescue a new friend, can you believe it Sweets!” The baby talk was outrageously cute. As I caught up to the stranger I decided to only be close to Sweet Pea and started to pet her. I pat the dogs’ head as my self appointed new friend introduces me. “My name is Sunny,” the stranger says, “Who are you?” “I’m Q. I should probably thank you for saving me, I kinda just fell down a hole as I was exploring a cave and now I have no clue what’s even happening.” I try to convey the fact that this situation is extremely odd. “How did you even know I was there?” Questions and anxiety flush through my body and I realize that I had completely tuned Sunny out. “… I can see you had a little panic time so I can start again,” they say with a small chuckle “I was already walking towards the pool to take a dip since I had been working on this shelter here for a few hours!” Sunny smacks the door frame of the fort, “I thought it would be a refreshing reward for all my hard work but then I heard footsteps, got excited, and now you’re here at my fort! How exciting!” This kid seems a little on the childish side. Just the way they speak gives off the fearlessness of a 4 year old playing pirates.

“I’ve been coming down here for a few weeks now since I found the place! I was able to get my art supplies and other stuff down here and have been using it mainly as a quiet space. I’ve been trying to make it as home-y as possible but you can only do so much in a fort underground.” Sunny turned from a smile to a blank stare seeming to process what they had just told a complete stranger, “Sorry that probably sounds weird coming from someone you just met, but oh well I’ve already over-shared” “A little weird, but not as weird as finding someone deep in a cave that I’ve never been in before!” I try to lighten up the mood a little because Sunny’s mood definitely took a turn. “I’m still a little lost on why you’re so chipper here, doesn’t this whole situation seem a little kid-nappy to you? Or like 2 teenagers in a cave vandalizing the place?” Sunny nodded without a word and picked up Sweet Pea. They ushered me to take a look around inside the fort they made. 

As I walk through the curtain door made of old quilts Sunny’s parents had probably thrown away, I see where the creativeness explodes. Although just outside of this fort is dirt and cold cave walls, this little room absolutely serves as a paradise. There are pillows to sit on, small tables low to the ground, fake flowers in a vase, various drawings Sunny drew (some even with a dog print signature from Sweet Pea), as well as photos Sunny had taken with a disposable camera. There were party ribbons decorating the ceiling around the center lamp hanging from the middle. The energy encased in this one room felt like a real life oasis. But why would they build this deep in a cave? I sat on one of the many pillows strewn throughout the room to really start to take in the space. Sunny looks to be around the same age as me, so why did they say they’ve been coming here the past couple weeks? School had only started 3 weeks ago and I’ve already done loads of homework. I don’t see any photos of anyone other than Sunny and Sweet Pea. There has to be some in here somewhere right? I get up once more and start looking for any sign of a family or some friends that Sunny may have. Maybe I’ve met them before and just didn’t get the chance to meet Sunny before.

“Like I said, I’ve been using this as a quiet art sanctuary. Why would I be using this beautiful cave for stupid sterotypical teenager activities anyway? I have more fun and peace of mind listening to the trickling water drops as I paint and draw with Sweet pea by my side.” I’m taken aback by Sunny’s sudden poeticness. Sanctuary? What a wonderful word for the space they have created here. I could feel myself getting quite jealous of how wonderful this place looks and sounds as Sunny describes their reasoning for the deep love they hold in this cave. I have longed for a place to feel genuinely free like Sunny describes. After Sunny’s description I could hear the trickling water, the shifting gravel as Sweet Pea pranced across the ground, the subtlety of mine and Sunny’s breathing. How quiet the voices in my brain have become in the short amount of time I’ve been here. The anxiety and fear had washed out of my brain so quickly and calmly that I hadn’t even noticed that I was breathing deeply and thoughtfully. The sweet smell of damp rock permeated through the shelter and into my lungs as I just sat in the first true silence of my brain. 

“Hey,” Sunny poked my shoulder and I jumped to my feet. “Good Lord Sunny, why did you poke me!” I clutched my chest trying to catch my breath after being scared out of my serenity. “You stopped answering me so I came inside and it looked like you were asleep, is everything alright?” “Yes I’m ok, that was honestly the calmest I had ever felt in a while actually. No wonder why you do your art here.”

Short Story Step 2

Why I chose to keep writing my original story:  I chose to continue writing this story because of many reasons. I really love writing this story and I love figuring out how I want the characters to interact and trying to build their backstories has been really exciting for me. I have also never done drafts on a short story before. Usually whenever I have written a story in the past its been a one and done situation. I would sit down and write the whole thing and then turn it in. I would never even edit it, maybe only read it through once. But now I realize how much of the process I missed out on as well as how much fun the process actually is. When I was younger I really hated having to read over something I wrote more than once so I would always make it the best I possibly could in one sitting which usually got me by. Having to go through the process for this class has really opened my eyes to how fun it would be to rethink your own story. Nothing is perfect when it comes out of your head in one section. I’m also enjoying writing this story because I’ve been using it as a sort of release and I can see myself in both of these characters. I feel like they are the two different sides of me being shown as two different people and I really enjoy writing about it this way.

Short Story #1 Edited Draft:

Falling. Falling down a space that my brain can’t decipher between a small tunnel or a deep chasm. I try to scream but my body restricts me in preparation for the catastrophic landing that will happen soon. There was nothing but darkness after my torch had fizzled out from me carelessly waving it around in awe of the cave I was so innocently exploring. My hand had lost its grip on the torch as I tripped into the hole I’m falling endlessly through. 

 It’s now getting increasingly humid as I plummet to who knows where. Maybe I’m finally nearing my death I had predicted at the start of this fall? It continues to grow harder to breathe, feeling more like a hot steamer blowing up my nostrils. I splash, head first, into warm water. My brain struggles to try and find a possible solution to why I am not dead and why there was no signage of a dangerous entrance to a hot spring in this cave. 

Most of the area surrounding me is still quite dark and seemingly endless. My eyes are trying their best to adjust to the extremely dim environment around me. As I was looking around I noticed an oil lamp not far off the shore of where I plunged into the spring. I quickly swam over to it. Like a moth to a flame I clung to the only light source in the room, having the light in my possession gave me a sense of safety. I picked the lamp up from off its post and stood there for a second in my dripping wet clothes. It’s freezing once you’re out of the water and since it’s so humid in this part of the cave there’s no way I’m going to get dry soon. As I looked down at my feet to examine my soaked sneakers I noticed footprints just a bit larger than mine. I put my foot next to them cautiously to make sure neither my eyes or my mind were playing tricks on me. “Nope, those are definitely not mine.” My eyes follow them and their trail leads far past the reach of the lamp.

Following the new tracks I’ve just found my anxiety heightens to a 10. I’m not sure if these footprints are new or old, and even worse I have no idea if the person is here in the cave with me or not. If they are, how would I get away? Would I actually die down here? Suddenly the prints have led me to a fork in the road, but they only go left. I don’t know why I am trusting these footprints but I make the turn and can immediately see a person already headed my way. They’re a lot taller than me with curly hair, they also have a dog beside them, it seems like they’re talking to the dog. The dog barks and I freeze. It saw me, and it barked. The person’s head shoots up to look in the direction of the bark and I sprint back the way I came.

The footsteps of this person sounded as if they were sprinting away from a disaster. As I rounded the corner I fell to the ground, how could I slip at a time like this? My lamp had gone out as soon as it hit the floor. I slammed my eyes shut and covered my ears in fear preparing for the worst when I felt a gust of air pass around my body. My eyes burst open to a person around my age, 16 or 17, holding what seems to be the same kind of oil lamp that I had in their right hand. They were waving wildly at me with their left and had a huge smile on their face. I look at them in shock with underlying horror. They softened their smile and lent me a hand so I could get up. My heart rate is steadily increasing but my body refuses to move.

Before I could even utter a word they yanked me back in the direction they came from. Now I am scared all over again because we are running into the darkness with just a small oil lamp that produces enough light to just see the floor right beneath us as we run. The ground is mostly dirt with some pebbles here and there. There’s no way of knowing if this is a path other than the fact the person holding my hand is very confident in the direction they are leading me. In the small amount of light we have I can examine what this person dragging me along looks like, at least from the back. Their hair is curly and extremely bouncy as we run along. They are also wearing a white pirate looking blouse covered in dirt marks with a vest over it and some pants that have been tied up to be shorts. This person seems like they might have been down here a long time given the disheveledness of their clothes, I can only imagine what I look like right now. 

After taking a sharp left turn we could no longer see my original entrance point and we slowed to a gentle pace as a new landmark came into view. The mysterious person tightens their grip on my hand just enough to convey their obvious excitement. Although I may not know this person who seemingly rescued me I can most definitely feel the change in their emotion and body language as we approach what looks to be a little makeshift clubhouse or fort. As they continue to lead me towards this underground encampment, I can see there is a small dog wagging its tail awaiting our arrival. 

“Hi Sweet Pea! I brought a friend!” The stranger finally spoke! Their voice was like soft, smooth, buttery caramel. A smile arose on both our faces as we ran towards Sweet Pea. “Sweet Pea this is my new friend, I just found them in the pool! You remember the splash I went to investigate? Well this was it!” I pat the dogs’ head as my self appointed new friend introduces me. “My name is Sunny,” the stranger says, “Who are you?” “I’m Q. I should probably thank you for saving me, I kinda just fell down a hole as I was exploring a cave and now I have no clue what’s even happening.” I try to convey the fact that this situation is extremely odd. The absurdity hit me once again as I realized this is the first time Sunny has spoken to me. Once again questions and anxiety flush through my body and I realize that I had completely tuned Sunny out. “… I can see you had a little panic time so I can start again,” they say with a small chuckle “I’ve been coming down here for a few weeks now since I found the place! I was able to get my art supplies and other stuff down here and have been using it mainly as a quiet space. I’ve been trying to make it as home-y as possible but you can only do so much in a fort underground.” Sunny turned from a smile to a blank stare seeming to process what they had just told a complete stranger, “Sorry that probably sounds weird coming from someone you just met, but oh well I’ve already over-shared” “A little weird, but not as weird as finding someone deep in a cave that I’ve never been in before!” I try to lighten up the mood a little because Sunny’s mood definitely took a turn. Sunny picks up Sweet Pea and ushers me to take a look around the fort they made. 

As I walk through the curtain door made of old quilts Sunny’s parents had probably thrown away, I see where the creativeness explodes. Although just outside of this fort is dirt and cold cave walls, this little room absolutely serves as a paradise. There are pillows to sit on, small tables low to the ground, fake flowers in a vase, various drawings Sunny drew (some even with a dog print signature from Sweet Pea), as well as photos Sunny had taken with a disposable camera. There were party ribbons decorating the ceiling around the center lamp hanging from the middle. The energy encased in this one room felt like a real life oasis. But why would they build this deep in a cave? I sat on one of the many pillows strewn throughout the room to really start to take in the space. Sunny looks to be around the same age as me, so why did they say they’ve been coming here the past couple weeks? School had only started 3 weeks ago and I’ve already done loads of homework. I don’t see any photos of anyone other than Sunny and Sweet Pea. There has to be some in here somewhere right? I get up once more and start looking for any sign of a family or some friends that Sunny may have. Maybe I’ve met them before and just didn’t get the chance to meet Sunny before.

4/28 HW

  1. Learning Outcome 4: Peer Review
    1. I feel as though my peer review style has remained the same throughout the semester. I go into it to just read and react to the paper, so my peer review mainly consists of what I am thinking as I am reading. A lot of the time I usually ask “how are these ideas related,” “I feel like this segment of text could be moved somewhere else,” or “This part isn’t really clear to me so make sure to explain fully.” Those are a generalization of what I usually try to write when peer reviewing. 

Task 2: Annotation and Reading Response Work (for learning outcome 3)

  1. 3/26 HW – Mackenzi’s Site (uneportfolio.org) This homework was about identifying where Coates mentions HR40 and why the idea of studying reparations has been debated. We had to go through the article to find where each section on HR40 was and describe what Coates was trying to imply about why HR40 hasnt been passed.This homework forced us to do a lot of interpretation of the text, thats why I included it to be a useful part of the annotation section.
  2. 3/24 HW – Mackenzi’s Site (uneportfolio.org) This homework was when we read the second half of the article and had to explain the annotations we put on it. This and 3/22 HW – Mackenzi’s Site (uneportfolio.org) both use annotations we put on the article. The annotations I put are mostly targeted around relations, questions, and sometimes challenges. Race is a heavy hitting topic so I was trying to really put into perspective how different my life is from what Coates is describing.
  3. 3/29 HW – Mackenzi’s Site (uneportfolio.org) This homework was about trying to connect the ideas we already formed with the other articles we read throughout the year to what Coates was writing about. I think this homework was challenging because we had to take our annotations/ideas we already formed about past articles and try to rethink those ideas in a way that they could connect to Coates’ article. I specifically chose Dweck and L/H for the connections, and it was really hard because they both already talk about extremely different situations and now I had to try and connect them to how racism was affecting HR40 being passed. It was hard for me to go from “L/H have a fixed mindset because…” to “L/H can be connected to the U.S. government because…” 

4/26 HW

  1. Read and copy the Learning Outcomes for ENG 110 (right on the syllabus page of the course site!) Open the “Framing ENG 110 Development” Google Doc to help you see the goal. 10 minutes
    1. Demonstrate the ability to approach writing as a recursive process that requires substantial revision of drafts for content, organization, and clarity (global revision), as well as editing and proofreading (local revision).
    2. Be able to integrate their ideas with those of others using summary, paraphrase, quotation, analysis, and synthesis of relevant sources.
    3. Employ techniques of active reading, critical reading, and informal reading response for inquiry, learning, and thinking.
    4. Be able to critique their own and others’ work by emphasizing global revision early in the writing process and local revision later in the process.
    5. Document their work using appropriate conventions (MLA).
    6. Control sentence-level error (grammar, punctuation, spelling).
  2. Choose which of your 3 major papers best demonstrates your ability on Integrating Ideas, Recursive Process, and MLA. You NEED the first draft of that paper (with peer comments) and the final draft of the paper for our work. (Most students select paper 2 or 3, as they can see their growth over the term in those projects.) 20 minutes
    1. Paper 3, The Study of Reparations, the Debate of Almost 3 Decades
    2. First Draft: Kimball, Paper 3, First Draft – Google Docs
    3. Final Draft: Kimball, Paper 3 Final Draft – Google Docs
  3. Revisit your peer review feedback on students’ papers. Take 4-6 screenshots of what you think are really good comments that help a peer make a claim, choose good evidence, explain evidence, and/or reorganize. 20 minutes
    1.  Found at the top of the post^
  4. Write THREE FRAMING STATEMENTS – Outcome I (recursive process), II (revision), and V (MLA). You can put them in a blog post for now. 30-60 minutes.
    1. Learning Outcome 1: Recursive Process
      1. The most change I see between the first and final draft of paper 3 is focusing in on the ideas I present in each paragraph. By this I mean that I revised to try and give the best explanations of evidence that I could and tried my best to connect the evidence in a way that made sense.
    2. Learning Outcome 2: Integrating Ideas
      1. I feel I have done a good job of integrating my ideas/views from the start of the semester since the Lukianoff and Haidt article really pushed me to say what I thought. So, since we started off with such a strongly worded article I feel like that made me more comfortable with inserting myself into the whole paper instead of just a vague idea of what I think.
    3. Learning Outcome 5: MLA
      1. In the beginning of the semester, I had no idea what a signal phrase was. My go-to for “introducing” a quote was to just try and make the non-quote part of the sentence flow with the quote so it would be a functional sentence. I had been doing that for so many years and then signal phrases are that same concept but you can add in different complexities! I really tried my best with signal phrases but I’m not sure I completely get them so I will definitely need more practice.

4/14 HW, Naysayer Paragraph

The part in my paper I’ll be focusing on is: “The possibility of learning about how reparations would be paid has been presented to the government for over 25 years. Yet they refuse to see why and how black people should be repaid.”

I’m trying to portray this idea but I am having a really hard time drafting the paragraph. So here is what I am trying to get at: 

Talking about how white people blindly follow the history being presented to us in an already white-washed, white targeted system. Of course nobody wants to be uncomfortable, but the history of the U.S. is extremely uncomfortable and must be taught to get the real feeling of fear into these peoples minds. Making white people try to grasp the severity of the misinformation being taught to us and how it is creating this blind racism where we think America is the greatest country yet it is so flawed in all of the underlying systems. The “naysayer” point of view here would be saying things like “not all white people think this way” or “we weren’t even alive when racism was a thing and I thought that that issue was in the past so get over yourself.” Of course, not all white people think they’re racist, yet we all have racist tendencies/stereotypes/biases because of the systems we were brought up on.

Intro: The modern or present day U.S. we see is rooted in racism which is severely under-taught and or mistaught to spare white people the guilt of the past.

Claim: If white people were able to grasp the severity of the issue of racism in our country alone, then the idea of studying reparations may not be seen as such a big ask. 

Intro to Quote: For an example of how this could be accomplished, L/H introduce a specific way of teaching that is thought highly of in the educational community called the Socratic method. 

Quote: “the Socratic method is a way of teaching that fosters critical thinking, in part by encouraging students to question their own unexamined beliefs, as well as the received wisdom of those around them. Such questioning sometimes leads to discomfort, and even to anger, on the way to understanding.” (L/H, para. 7).

Exp: This way of learning could significantly improve our understanding of our own country and how it is run if the historical facts are not white-washed to please or spare white people’s feelings.

Transition: But of course, there are people (white people) out there that will argue that “not all white people are racist” or “racism was a past problem, we have overcome it.” But is these statements are true, why has there been very little progress for the black community (and other minorities). Coates gives us an example of how racism is still in effect in the U.S.

Quote: “The income gap between black and white households is roughly the same today as it was in 1970.” (Coates, part 2, para. 4).

Connection: Something as necessary as income should not have had a gap between races in the first place. Yet, even in 2014 when Coates wrote his article, the income gap between black and white people has stayed the same over almost 5 decades or 50 years. This is not an issue of “black people just need to work harder” because they are at a disadvantage from the second they are born. Racism that has lasted over hundreds of years is still present today and yet some people believe it no longer exists. The Civil Rights Movement did not end racism in just a snap of a finger. White people have to dig deep into the systems we have been benefiting from since we were born. We have to dive into why these corrupt systems were created and how we can repair them to include the same benefits for any person of any color.

4/12 HW Revising 2 paragraphs

Revising 2 Paragraphs:

Original:

L/H’s article is a great example for why the U.S. is having such a hard time coming to terms with its past. L/H present the term “vindictive protectiveness” in relation to the sudden “sensitivity” of students on college campuses. “turn campuses into “safe spaces” where young adults are shielded from words and ideas that make some uncomfortable. And more than the last, this movement seeks to punish anyone who interferes with that aim, even accidentally. You might call this impulse vindictive protectiveness. It is creating a culture in which everyone must think twice before speaking up, lest they face charges of insensitivity, aggression, or worse” (L&H, para. 5). This idea of vindictive protectiveness can be related to the U.S. specifically towards the creation of a culture where everyone must think twice before they speak. The U.S. simply does not speak at all in this situation. They refuse to speak since there is no way to defend the blatant racism in this country due to the lack of education on the subject. The lack of education on the subject of racism can be seen in the not-so-recent movement of Black Lives Matter and the request for HR 40 to pass. This lack of understanding has caused HR 40 to be misunderstood and has caused much trouble/hesitation in getting the bill passed. “HR 40 has never—under either Democrats or Republicans—made it to the House floor suggests our concerns are rooted not in the impracticality of reparations but in something more existential” (Coates, part 3 para. 14). The majority of the U.S. in my opinion, is of the mindset “don’t ask don’t tell” and “every man for himself” so the thought of paying reparations is a jab at these ideals. Lukianoff and Haidt point out the idea of vindictive protectiveness with respect to speaking on issues that may be uncomfortable for some individuals to hear. The U.S. is trying to protect itself from having to confront and pay reparations for all the hurtful history that it’s tried to cover up for hundreds of years. 

Revision:

L/H’s article is a great example for why the U.S. is having such a hard time coming to terms with its past. L/H present the term “vindictive protectiveness” in relation to the sudden “sensitivity” of students on college campuses. They explain that the practice of vindictive protectiveness is “turn[ing] campuses into “safe spaces” where young adults are shielded from words and ideas that make some uncomfortable. And more than the last, this movement seeks to punish anyone who interferes with that aim, even accidentally. You might call this impulse vindictive protectiveness. It is creating a culture in which everyone must think twice before speaking up, lest they face charges of insensitivity, aggression, or worse” (L&H, para. 5). This idea of vindictive protectiveness can be related to the U.S. specifically towards the creation of a culture where everyone must think twice before they speak. The U.S. simply does not speak at all in this situation since the aggressor is playing the victim. The U.S. government refuses to speak since there is no way to defend the blatant racism in this country. Due to the lack of education on the subject, many white people feel as though they are being “attacked” by the black community to pay these reparations for something that these white people perceive as untrue or too far in the past to be “their problem.” The lack of education on the subject of racism can be tied to the on-going Black Lives Matter movement and the request for HR 40 to pass. This lack of understanding has caused HR 40 to be misunderstood  and has caused much trouble and or hesitation in getting the bill passed. Coates explains that“HR 40 has never—under either Democrats or Republicans—made it to the House floor suggests our concerns are rooted not in the impracticality of reparations but in something more existential” (part 3 para. 14). HR 40 is proposing the study of reparations not demanding reparations immediately which is the big misunderstanding here. The majority of the U.S. in my opinion, is of the mindset “don’t ask don’t tell” and “every man for himself” so the thought of paying reparations is a jab at these ideals. Lukianoff and Haidt point out the idea of vindictive protectiveness with respect to speaking on issues that may be uncomfortable for some individuals to hear. The U.S. is trying to protect itself from having to confront and pay reparations for all the hurtful history that it’s tried to cover up for hundreds of years. 

Exp: I mainly tried to explain my quotes better towards what I am trying to claim for the whole paragraph. Better explaining the quotes makes the paragraph sound more coherent and argumentative. I also added introductions to the quotes so they are no longer free standing.

Original:

The U.S. chooses to stay in it’s white fragility bubble by refusing to even consider reparations. “A country curious about how reparations might actually work has an easy solution in Conyers’s bill… We would support this bill, submit the question to study, and then assess the possible solutions. But we are not interested” (Coates part 3, para. 12). The possibility of learning about how reparations would be paid has been presented to the government for over 25 years. Yet they refuse to see why and how black people should be repaid. Simply refusing to go out of your comfort zone is childish, and refusing to try to learn and understand why reparations should be paid is just wrong.  The U.S. has a fixed mindset when the topic of our own history is brought up. “From their more fixed mindset perspective, their intelligence had been up for judgment, and they failed” (Dweck, 00:41). The reparations that were requested through the HR 40 bill are seen as threatening the comfort zone that the U.S. created for itself. There is no clear cut way to pay reparations after years of generational trauma, so the U.S. is faced with either not acknowledging the past, or not providing a sufficient way of paying those reparations. The U.S. does not want to fail, but it already has by ignoring this call of reparations for so long. OR The U.S. has called itself so powerful for so long that we believe it to be true. But you cannot be a powerful and prosperous country if you deny the true history of the country and deny that you have made any mistakes.

Revision:

The U.S. chooses to stay in it’s white fragility bubble by refusing to even consider reparations. Coates provides an example of white supremacy/white fragility in the following quote, “A country curious about how reparations might actually work has an easy solution in Conyers’s bill… We would support this bill, submit the question to study, and then assess the possible solutions. But we are not interested” (part 3, para. 12). The government presents as “not interested” when discussing the bill, which exemplifies the idea of white supremacy by the majority white government choosing not to even consider something that could benefit minorities and maybe even the whole country. The possibility of learning about how reparations would be paid has been presented to the government for over 25 years, yet they refuse to see why and how black people should be repaid. Simply refusing to go out of your comfort zone is childish, and refusing to try to learn and understand why reparations should be paid is just wrong. The U.S. has a fixed mindset when the topic of our own history is brought up. Dweck’s idea of fixed mindset can be attributed to the government’s way of thinking about HR 40. Dweck describes that “[f]rom their [the students studied] more fixed mindset perspective, their intelligence had been up for judgment, and they failed” (Dweck, 00:41). The reparations that were requested through the HR 40 bill are seen as threatening the intelligence and the comfort zone that the U.S. has created for itself. There is no clear cut way to pay reparations after years of generational trauma, so the U.S. is faced with either not acknowledging the past, or not providing a sufficient way of paying those reparations. The U.S. has called itself so powerful for so long that we believe it to be true. But you cannot be a powerful and prosperous country if you deny the true history of the country and deny that you have made any mistakes. The U.S. does not want to fail, but it already has by ignoring this call of reparations for so long. 

Exp: In this paragraph I also tried to explain my quotes better. To do this I added in the idea of white supremacy/white fragility to make my explanations better since they were extremely vague and or suggestive without these terms included. I also added in intros to the quotes and brackets when needed.

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