Just today, at 2:00 specifically, I was sitting in the car with my father, when he reminded me to take the hamburger buns out of the freezer. I said, "Oh shit. Not the freezer," to which he responded with a simple laugh and an "Oh? Why is that?" It is because whenever something has to do with the fridge, freezer, or oven, I almost always forget to do it. As I explained this to him, he continued to laugh and made it clear that I would remember this one because I am to go directly into the house and take out the hamburger buns. I nodded and gave him a forced smile, which is Avalena for "yeah ok dad whatever you say". I walked into the house, determined not to forget. And alas, the second I put my bag down, I noticed the college mail on the sideboard, so naturally I had to look at that first. Then I saw that my dad had forgotten to add pasta to the grocery list, so, of course, I had to write it down. After that, I heard a siren on my street and just had to bound to the nearest window with a street view to observe all of the commotion. And when that was over, my heart pounding, obviously, I had to calm myself down with an episode of 30 Rock. The hamburger buns came out of the freezer half an hour ago.
This piece really brings me into the relationship that you have with your Dad. Also this is a very effective stream of consciousness style, when you say "So naturally I had to look at that first." It completely captures your inability to focus for more than a few minutes on any given thing.
This piece really brings me into the relationship that you have with your Dad. Also this is a very effective stream of consciousness style, when you say "So naturally I had to look at that first." It completely captures your inability to focus for more than a few minutes on any given thing.
As I rolled out of bed it the sky is still black and ominous. I had slept in my spandex ready to pull on my jacket and my winter boots and trudge out to the car with my gear. I brushed my teeth, sitting down on the edge of the bath tub, eyes closed shut. I couldn't bare the eye stinging bathroom light. I dragged my pillow, comforter and Abu, my stuffed monkey, down the stairs and out into the warm car which had been heating up, just waiting for its grouchy morning customers. As we pulled into sugarloaf I realized I had brought no skipants, ski jacket, layers, gloves, hat, helmet or boots. But it looked like good day for hot chocolate and a book!
I forget to eat. It's not that I don't really love eating, it just slips my mind from time to time. I'll be busy doing something weird, like hot gluing costume parts together, reading the new dangan ronpa chapter, or looking for that marker I lost three months ago, and suddenly I'll realize that it's been several hours since I ate anything and I'm starving. A couple hours ago, I was about to go eat dinner when I noticed that the new iwatobi swim club episode was up (stop laughing). Of course, I had to watch that before I did anything, and then check tumblr for 20 minutes, and then remember that oh shit I should really eat something.
This piece is so relatable. It takes the reader into your brain and gives us a chance to see what fascinates you. I like that you went into specifics about your distractions. The last bit is fantastic; it truly sounds like you.
We sit at my kitchen table while I trudge through my Spanish homework with the kind of thigh-high orange rubber boots that fisherman wear. He doesn't do much; he sits, and thinks, mostly. He looks out at the river, his eyes narrowed in observation, his shaky, driftwood hands clasped on the arms of simply carved wooden chair. He asks me about homework, and I complain. He tells me about the time he worked the night shift at a bottling plant, while in med school. He quit because it was six o'clock and he wasn't sure if it was night or day. I sit and listen to him while he talks, more animated than I've heard him in days (or at least since the last story). He remembers every name, down to his physical chemistry professor and his lab partner that ended up flunking out a year later. It's a stark contrast to an hour ago, when I explained how to use his TV remote for the sixth or seventh time. His face lights up with the highlights, and his eyes are focused. His hands still shake, but he remembers saving lives with them. I listen, and watch and wonder if I should be doing homework... but this is more important. Homework will always be there. My grandfather's stories will not.
I like this a lot, Louise. I like how you don't tell us whom your are talking to until the very end....I kept trying to figure it out up until then. Also, I like how specific you are in describing the details of the stories. This all comes together very nicely.
Sweet peace is hard to come by. Surreality, blissfulness, a dreamland of peace and colors... Such a paradise is not simply searched for. You can't find peace like you find a chocolate bar in a vending machine. You experience it. You feel it with your emotions, and when it comes by, the stars explode in a confetti of orange and chartreuse and green. It's like New Years on the day of July Fourth. The snow is falling around her, and she steps through it laughing and smiling, blond hair glistening in the air, cheeks flushing like a rose on fire. She glides through the world like a fish, curving with every step, arcing around every corner, she takes me to the hill where we sat staring at the sky that very first day, and she smiles to me. We sit very near each other, and like the first day all over again I nervously, awkwardly put my arm around her as I blush. I here a giggle and feel a head burrow into the crook of my neck, and I smell a meadow ripe with flowers. Her hair is the softest thing I have ever felt before, her arm a smooth handle... There is no finer heaven that I could ever have known than the moments with her. No greater peace than the one she washes over me with every breath she takes, every smile she cracks, every word she says...
I was skinny dipping by myself in a lake at night. Dusk had fallen, and the wind was beginning to settle. I had been in the water for about an hour. I remember wishing that some kind of music was playing, because night is sometimes better with a song in the background. I think I was wishing for a Bob Dylan song, or something corny like that. A middle-aged man came down to the shore with his dog. He looked like a lawyer, I remember thinking. Without thinking, I walked out of the water, forgetting that I was completely naked. It wasn't until I felt a rush of cold air against the palms of my feet that I remembered..... "Ohmigosh I'm so sorry!!!" was what I said. I forgot that I was naked. And the worst part was that there was nowhere for me to hide, except underwater, and it wasn't like I could stay there forever. Sometimes my head is so filled with other thoughts that I become detached from my physical self, and forget the simplest facts, like what I am, or am not wearing.
The honesty here is great. It's a fun story to read and the little details in the first few sentences add a lot to the idea of the setting being very peaceful until the man comes along. The last sentence does a really good job of driving home the point of what sort of person you are, but at the same time, I think you could have omitted it and the general idea of it still would have been clear. One thing that was a bit confusing to me was - why did you think it was necessary to come out of the water (even if you had been wearing something)?
I like old things. I suppose I like new things, too, but only the kind of new things that will, at some point, become old things. Things of substance; things crafted by machine or (preferably) by man to stand the test of time. An old ax, perhaps, long past its useful days as an ax, with a rusted head and pitted handle, still holds some value. It has to. After all, the ax that sits in my garage, here, now, has been 100 years in the making. Every pit on the ash handle is a tribute to a year of exposure to the elements. Each notch on the leading edge is a vestige of some young buck's overabundance of eagerness and strength. It's possible that this ax, tired, dull, and delicate as it is, holds no value. It is much more exciting, however, to imagine that I join a long line of people who touched this ax, and, in doing so, become part of its charm.
This piece does a great job with detail work. It's impressive how you were able to really breath life into what most would pass off as a rusty old ax. I liked how you explained that the ax was possibly without value, but then explained how it has value to you and those who've used it. All in all this piece was pretty deep.
When I forgot to respond to last weeks blog post, I felt crushed. It completely slipped my mind and it only occurred to me in the car the morning it was due. I sluggishly rolled myself into the car, still groggy with sleep, and collapsed onto the seat. My father began to drive. It's about a twenty minute drive to school, which means to me twenty more minutes of sleep. I dozed off as we pulled out of the driveway. I woke with a start ten minutes later, having had a terrifying dream in which I was expelled from school because I forgot to respond to a blog post from this class. I woke myself up, remembering that I had yet to complete the assignment! I turned on my phone, but it was no use. The 3G cuts out when we pass the Deliverance Center on the intersection on St. John street, you know, the creepy one that's always closed off and the windows are always shrouded... I think they're doing illegal cloning experiments in there or something. Anyway, the essence is that I didn't get to complete the assignment, but it was interesting to think that somewhere in my brain, I still remembered it!
I think this is a very funny piece Leah. I especially enjoyed the sentence about the Deliverance Center. However, I think that the piece would really benefit from you adding an ending. While I appreciate the use of a vocab word, everything after "in there or something" feels tacked on, and doesn't really make sense to the reader.
Just today, at 2:00 specifically, I was sitting in the car with my father, when he reminded me to take the hamburger buns out of the freezer. I said, "Oh shit. Not the freezer," to which he responded with a simple laugh and an "Oh? Why is that?" It is because whenever something has to do with the fridge, freezer, or oven, I almost always forget to do it. As I explained this to him, he continued to laugh and made it clear that I would remember this one because I am to go directly into the house and take out the hamburger buns. I nodded and gave him a forced smile, which is Avalena for "yeah ok dad whatever you say". I walked into the house, determined not to forget. And alas, the second I put my bag down, I noticed the college mail on the sideboard, so naturally I had to look at that first. Then I saw that my dad had forgotten to add pasta to the grocery list, so, of course, I had to write it down. After that, I heard a siren on my street and just had to bound to the nearest window with a street view to observe all of the commotion. And when that was over, my heart pounding, obviously, I had to calm myself down with an episode of 30 Rock. The hamburger buns came out of the freezer half an hour ago.
ReplyDeleteThis piece really brings me into the relationship that you have with your Dad. Also this is a very effective stream of consciousness style, when you say "So naturally I had to look at that first." It completely captures your inability to focus for more than a few minutes on any given thing.
DeleteThis piece really brings me into the relationship that you have with your Dad. Also this is a very effective stream of consciousness style, when you say "So naturally I had to look at that first." It completely captures your inability to focus for more than a few minutes on any given thing.
DeleteAs I rolled out of bed it the sky is still black and ominous. I had slept in my spandex ready to pull on my jacket and my winter boots and trudge out to the car with my gear. I brushed my teeth, sitting down on the edge of the bath tub, eyes closed shut. I couldn't bare the eye stinging bathroom light. I dragged my pillow, comforter and Abu, my stuffed monkey, down the stairs and out into the warm car which had been heating up, just waiting for its grouchy morning customers. As we pulled into sugarloaf I realized I had brought no skipants, ski jacket, layers, gloves, hat, helmet or boots. But it looked like good day for hot chocolate and a book!
ReplyDeleteI forget to eat. It's not that I don't really love eating, it just slips my mind from time to time. I'll be busy doing something weird, like hot gluing costume parts together, reading the new dangan ronpa chapter, or looking for that marker I lost three months ago, and suddenly I'll realize that it's been several hours since I ate anything and I'm starving. A couple hours ago, I was about to go eat dinner when I noticed that the new iwatobi swim club episode was up (stop laughing). Of course, I had to watch that before I did anything, and then check tumblr for 20 minutes, and then remember that oh shit I should really eat something.
ReplyDeleteThis piece is so relatable. It takes the reader into your brain and gives us a chance to see what fascinates you. I like that you went into specifics about your distractions. The last bit is fantastic; it truly sounds like you.
DeleteWe sit at my kitchen table while I trudge through my Spanish homework with the kind of thigh-high orange rubber boots that fisherman wear. He doesn't do much; he sits, and thinks, mostly. He looks out at the river, his eyes narrowed in observation, his shaky, driftwood hands clasped on the arms of simply carved wooden chair. He asks me about homework, and I complain. He tells me about the time he worked the night shift at a bottling plant, while in med school. He quit because it was six o'clock and he wasn't sure if it was night or day. I sit and listen to him while he talks, more animated than I've heard him in days (or at least since the last story). He remembers every name, down to his physical chemistry professor and his lab partner that ended up flunking out a year later. It's a stark contrast to an hour ago, when I explained how to use his TV remote for the sixth or seventh time. His face lights up with the highlights, and his eyes are focused. His hands still shake, but he remembers saving lives with them. I listen, and watch and wonder if I should be doing homework... but this is more important. Homework will always be there. My grandfather's stories will not.
ReplyDeleteI like this a lot, Louise. I like how you don't tell us whom your are talking to until the very end....I kept trying to figure it out up until then. Also, I like how specific you are in describing the details of the stories. This all comes together very nicely.
DeleteSweet peace is hard to come by. Surreality, blissfulness, a dreamland of peace and colors... Such a paradise is not simply searched for. You can't find peace like you find a chocolate bar in a vending machine. You experience it. You feel it with your emotions, and when it comes by, the stars explode in a confetti of orange and chartreuse and green. It's like New Years on the day of July Fourth. The snow is falling around her, and she steps through it laughing and smiling, blond hair glistening in the air, cheeks flushing like a rose on fire. She glides through the world like a fish, curving with every step, arcing around every corner, she takes me to the hill where we sat staring at the sky that very first day, and she smiles to me. We sit very near each other, and like the first day all over again I nervously, awkwardly put my arm around her as I blush. I here a giggle and feel a head burrow into the crook of my neck, and I smell a meadow ripe with flowers. Her hair is the softest thing I have ever felt before, her arm a smooth handle... There is no finer heaven that I could ever have known than the moments with her. No greater peace than the one she washes over me with every breath she takes, every smile she cracks, every word she says...
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteI was skinny dipping by myself in a lake at night. Dusk had fallen, and the wind was beginning to settle. I had been in the water for about an hour. I remember wishing that some kind of music was playing, because night is sometimes better with a song in the background. I think I was wishing for a Bob Dylan song, or something corny like that. A middle-aged man came down to the shore with his dog. He looked like a lawyer, I remember thinking. Without thinking, I walked out of the water, forgetting that I was completely naked. It wasn't until I felt a rush of cold air against the palms of my feet that I remembered.....
ReplyDelete"Ohmigosh I'm so sorry!!!" was what I said.
I forgot that I was naked. And the worst part was that there was nowhere for me to hide, except underwater, and it wasn't like I could stay there forever.
Sometimes my head is so filled with other thoughts that I become detached from my physical self, and forget the simplest facts, like what I am, or am not wearing.
The honesty here is great. It's a fun story to read and the little details in the first few sentences add a lot to the idea of the setting being very peaceful until the man comes along. The last sentence does a really good job of driving home the point of what sort of person you are, but at the same time, I think you could have omitted it and the general idea of it still would have been clear. One thing that was a bit confusing to me was - why did you think it was necessary to come out of the water (even if you had been wearing something)?
DeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
DeleteI like old things. I suppose I like new things, too, but only the kind of new things that will, at some point, become old things. Things of substance; things crafted by machine or (preferably) by man to stand the test of time. An old ax, perhaps, long past its useful days as an ax, with a rusted head and pitted handle, still holds some value. It has to. After all, the ax that sits in my garage, here, now, has been 100 years in the making. Every pit on the ash handle is a tribute to a year of exposure to the elements. Each notch on the leading edge is a vestige of some young buck's overabundance of eagerness and strength. It's possible that this ax, tired, dull, and delicate as it is, holds no value. It is much more exciting, however, to imagine that I join a long line of people who touched this ax, and, in doing so, become part of its charm.
ReplyDeleteThis piece does a great job with detail work. It's impressive how you were able to really breath life into what most would pass off as a rusty old ax. I liked how you explained that the ax was possibly without value, but then explained how it has value to you and those who've used it. All in all this piece was pretty deep.
DeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteWhen I forgot to respond to last weeks blog post, I felt crushed. It completely slipped my mind and it only occurred to me in the car the morning it was due. I sluggishly rolled myself into the car, still groggy with sleep, and collapsed onto the seat. My father began to drive. It's about a twenty minute drive to school, which means to me twenty more minutes of sleep. I dozed off as we pulled out of the driveway. I woke with a start ten minutes later, having had a terrifying dream in which I was expelled from school because I forgot to respond to a blog post from this class. I woke myself up, remembering that I had yet to complete the assignment! I turned on my phone, but it was no use. The 3G cuts out when we pass the Deliverance Center on the intersection on St. John street, you know, the creepy one that's always closed off and the windows are always shrouded... I think they're doing illegal cloning experiments in there or something. Anyway, the essence is that I didn't get to complete the assignment, but it was interesting to think that somewhere in my brain, I still remembered it!
ReplyDeleteI think this is a very funny piece Leah. I especially enjoyed the sentence about the Deliverance Center. However, I think that the piece would really benefit from you adding an ending. While I appreciate the use of a vocab word, everything after "in there or something" feels tacked on, and doesn't really make sense to the reader.
Delete