Mon., 9/30

Write about anything you like or feeling uncomfortable.

Wed., 9/25

Anything you like, or a time when you forgot to do something.

Tues., 9/24

Anything you wish, or...anything you wish (whoa, deep.)

Mon., 9/23

Anything you like, or a pet peeve

Wed., 9/18

Try for a narrative focus tonight.

Isaac

Hello all, on the surface I am probably like most everyone else here. I am passionate about sports, feel the daily stress of academics, the expectation from family members to succeed, and of course, have my eye keenly set on getting into the college of my dreams. Sometimes my mind wanders to what the future may hold for me. It is easy to delve into what might be - the challenges I will face in college, what kind of friends I will make, and even farther into my theoretical future: will I start a family? My mind also wanders in the other direction, of what might not be. Will I be accepted into the college of my dreams?, will I enjoy the company of my peers?, will I make good friends, will I be successful in life?

Max

As Ella said previously, I believe that a whole person is quite a lot to tackle in such a short piece of writing. I feel as though I have been many people and seen many things, and I am amazed how those who actually are worldly keep calm throughout the day to day. As it is my life seems to me like an Ornette Coleman melody, and sometimes I wonder if Pecola's father could really hold his own blowing over one of my twelve month blues'.
Then I sit in on a circle of real jazz musicians, observing as carefully as I can without seeming careful. We talk, we listen, we appreciate perfectly played silence. They sing Coltrane solos front to back as if they were Wonderwall, and I am humbled.
Rahsaan has a thought, and we all tune in. At first he can't get it out, just laughing his hiss-crackle laugh, at the same time endearing and medically concerning. He comes around.

"You know what I hate, nigga?" Rhetorical question.
"When someone asks you, like 'You ever wonder..' Like you ever wonder nigga?", and he cackles again. We're all smiling honestly.
"Like you ever wonder, nigga? Man, shut the fuck up."

At this point we can hold it in no longer. Rahsaan has played his audience perfectly, baiting us with repition and then giving us something new, but still relatable that lies deep in our own souls, to finish the phrase.

At the time, I think nothing of it. Of course I don't. I am not the one who laments and contemplates. I am the one who riffs, jokes, laughs, digs and sees honest humor in everyday life.
Later though, I wonder and then wonder if should be wondering about anything right then. After I get over that, I manage to wonder if I ever should be wondering about anything

Tues., 9/17

Feel free to write whatever's on your mind, but try to dip into some of the descriptive techniques we talked about in class today.

               My full name is Worthington Peter Miner III. The name Worthington has grown on me; however, I have the cliché apprehension of becoming my loving father. As most know, for I speak of it too often, I was born in the Upper West Side of Manhattan. I grew up on a mixed Irish, and Jewish block. Most of the Irish are old crazy Catholics, descending from diseased swamp people who fled the island in exile during the Potato Famine. These elderly lot mostly discuss their diverse views on immigration, various wars, and the shared shock that we as people had potatoes for hundreds of years, and never managed to conjure potato based Vodka. The Jews of the block mostly stick to the same two stories regarding their respective origins. Those of Eastern-European descent say that their forefathers fled the Czar when he appeared to have their numbers. Others, of German descent, say that they fled the fatherland during the 1930s, for obvious reasons. I've never liked my voice. My cynicism leaves my work to rot until it reeks of sarcasm and disrespect. This observation reminds me of (what I believe to be) the great revelation of Martin Luther. That human beings will forever be sinful in thought, and therefore the only way to achieve purity is through our action. I paraphrase of course, but wait... this is off topic. Well it brings to mind my pre-confirmation days at the ever deteriorating church of St. Michaels. So I guess in that sense it is relevant to me. Those of you who would guess this to be a poor example of a brain dump are most definitely correct. However, even if I was to take more time with this response I know I could not answer it. The Ancient Greeks say know thyself, but I truly do not. I only know where, and when I am. It's 10:30, I'm in my room, and I just got back from a soccer game. I suppose the most fitting thing to say is good evening, or goodnight. I prefer the latter, good night.

Avalena

Hello! All of you know me, as we have interacted in one way or another, be it in class, smudging makeup backstage, or in temple. Because of this, I have decided to talk about things some of you may not know about me. First off, I can solve a Rubik's cube in two minutes; the current personal record being one minute 56 seconds. It was on the bus home from rafting that this marvelous event occurred. You can thank Lauren Cressey for timekeeping on that one. Second, I completed a program with NASA over the year, designing graphics, writing essays, and creating experiments. I was given two weeks to complete every module, which was composed of all of the topics listed above as well as around fifty pages of reading. The modules were due on Tuesday nights, and because I always waited until the last moment to turn them in, Tuesdays became the dreaded NASA night. Although if anyone asks, I put it off until the last possible second only for the thrill of it, of course. I like school and sleeping and eating when I feel like it. That's pretty much it. 

Louise

This summer, I worked. It's a kind of an awkward subject for most people I talked to, in classes or just meeting in the hallway. I ask them what they did this summer, and they have stories about trying twenty different kinds of gelato in Spain, or going to a college program in a city, or even getting away from Portland to go to there summer house and hang out for a couple of weeks. They ask me, and I say I worked, and they say where, and I tell them, and the conversation is over. The thing is, I had a great summer. I met some amazing people who I never would have met who have become some of my best friends, and completely understood what normal adult people have to deal with. I miss family dinners, birthday parties, and even just causal nights with friends. I get home late, and I get up early. I was tired, I was annoyed with my one day off, and barely 40 hours a week felt like I had no free time. I was a little taken aback when I realized that is barely full time. Still, it makes me appreciate my free time that much more. Long gone are the days when I would spend my summer sitting on my couch, I would spend my Tuesdays (a lame day off, I know) at the beach, or with my family and friends, what I should be doing all of the time. All in all, it was a great experience and a truly memorable one, even if it sounds boring when I try and describe it simply.

James

Hey guys. So some of you may know, but it is doubtful because I do not remember divulging this to any of you, fellow classmates, yet all the same I am much like the great elephant in that I am large and strong but not at all like the great elephant in that my memory is not so great nor large. But that was off on its own tangent. My point, classmates, is that I am from Thailand and I like to randomly start talking about the slightest things I may mention. I was born in Thailand, and raised, but not for my whole life however. Merely a year, after which my mother moved to America with her three children; my eldest brother, my older sister, and infant me. I, infant. I was not yet old enough to understand what it was to be an immigrant, but regardless were I able to appreciate my status nonetheless I would incessantly babble my baby english (or baby Thai technically) into sentences only a baby could understand. And there weren't that many other babies going to America from Thailand.

Leah

Who am I?
This is a question I have simply never struggled with. I come with the fortune of knowing exactly who I am, and exactly what I stand for. I travel through my perceived world as I am, imperfect in many ways, but never delusional; never creating any fabrication of my sense of self. I wish I knew how I have automatically known my morals, my knowledge of self and character, so I could share it. It's often very convenient, never having to worry about such a huge question for people my age, but it also feels as though I've missed a heavy tradition carried on for centuries by teenagers who question their lives. This omittance has led to some crucial points in my life. Knowing your flaws can be dangerous, and I often get self-conscious and depressed when I see my more serious imperfections come out. I was also bullied in middle school and called a "freak" and "weirdo" and countless other names for openly expressing myself as a feminist and queer activist. These are two causes that I always knew I stood for, whereas my peers were unsure and still figuring out who they were. When I got to Waynflete, this all stopped. In many ways, Waynflete saved me. I am so thankful to be in the healthy place I am in now, physically and emotionally. 

Lexie

I’m Lexie, sometimes known as Alexandra. My middle name is a particularly well-kept secret of mine. My last name, Huber, is ugly-sounding and very German. My name often poses issues for me - the name that I go by is always misspelled, my last name is often mispronounced, and my middle name remains unspoken. I’m often told that I “don’t look like an Alexandra”, something that makes very little sense. If I don’t look like an Alexandra, who does? What face springs to mind when that name appears? I sometimes think that a certain name would go well with a certain face, but never that a name wouldn’t go with a face. Names are weird if you think about it - when you were born, your parents picked a sound that they wanted people to call you for your entire life.

Emily

I was born in 1996, the year Atlanta hosted the Olympics, and mad cow Disease hit Britain hard. My  egg like head, slimy with blood and guts popped out just in time to hear Dishwalla's "Counting Blue Cars," and Alanis Morisettie's "Ironic," both major hits on the top 100 songs list that year. My parents like to say that my first scream is an exact replica of Bill Clinton's when Monica Lewinsky...well...you get the picture. And to this day, grunge is still my number one style choice (thank you, Courtney Love.) Even though less than four years of my life transpired in this decade, I don't think anything is more a part of me than this period of time.

Welcome!

Welcome to our class 'chapbook.' This is a space for you to further practice your craft of essay writing without worrying about how it will become a fully developed piece.  You could think of it as an on-line, public journal (hey, isn't that what a blog is?). 

**Each of you should spend 5-10 minutes on Mon., Tues., and Wed. nights writing. On Thurs., choose one piece of a classmate's writing to respond to.  Be specific in your praise and advice for improvement.  "This is great," helps no one.  You could address the topic of the writing, the sentence styling, word choice, word order, offer suggestions, ask questions, etc.  Remember to respect each other.