Writing Process

My writing process is generally slow and tedious. I write about things that have happened to me or things that I've heard about or seen. To start out I usually sit down in front of a blank piece of paper or a blank computer screen and I start writing or typing. I prefer handwriting things like poetry and letters, but for essays and longer pieces I use the computer. Usually I write and revise at the same time which makes things messy and sometimes means I have to go back and rewrite what I wrote originally because the revision is worse. On occasion (like this one) I don't revise after I write. I just write and revise simultaneously and then I'm done with it. Those are the pieces I don't like to go back and read once I'm done because I know I'll find errors. The writing will make me feel like I could have done better; a self perpetuated slap in the face. When I'm writing poetry I revise, a lot. I'll write something and then take out lines and rearrange them. Poetry is like a puzzle to me. You have to find the right words to fit the emotion and then you've also got to arrange them in the right way. I think words matter more in poetry than they do in other forms of writing. If I am writing an essay or something that takes more work I usually sit down to write with some sort of outline. I start to write and inevitably get stuck, so I pad up to the freezer and get a bowl of ice cream. I stand there and think about what to do. Sometimes I'll go do other things: weed the flower bed, walk the dogs, clean the house, do laundry, talk with Shaun or someone else, etc. Then I'll come back to my piece and finish it. I usually never talk about what I write unless I really need help with it or I want someone to revise it. All of the creative writing that I do, though, I don't show anyone. I always write in private at my desk or in a carol at school. I don't usually like to talk to anyone when I'm writing unless I'm really stuck. If I'm really focused on what I'm writing, the world falls away and it's like the paper or the computer is just an extension of my brain. I'm so centered. I am writing. That's when I'm really successful and prolific, but I need clean and quiet. I need my own space both physically and mentally. When I'm done it's like waking up from a dream. Everything feels a little bit fuzzy and distant. I feel separated from the world, like the writing has drawn a line between me and everything else. I move through the world and everything feels just a little bit different.

What's Happening?

On the page, I can see a boy and man with a top hat riding on top of the bus. I can see people coughing due to the steam coming out of the train. There are other people waiting for a train to come. Many others are walking around on the train platform and around the train station. One man is reading the train schedule. There are cows riding on one of the trains. One man has his hand stuck in the train door, his briefcase dangling in his crushed hand. The train with the cows has a driver and another man standing on the front of the train, who looks like he's supposed to be there. Some of the cows have escaped the pen on the train and are trampling people and causing a fright.

The image on the page is all about the craziness of the morning commute.

In the tiny circle, I can see a man trying to hold back his dog. The dog is pulling hard on the leash in order to reach another man. Obviously, the dog is attempting to bite the man's pant leg. The man being accosted by the dog looks surprised and affronted. Another man stands in between them with his arms up, seemingly talking to the man with the dog. Why he is not trying to help, I don't know. The man who is being attacked by the ferocious dog has also let go of his suitcase in surprise. It is flying through the air towards the train tracks. The dog seems very excited as he appears to be wagging his tail. I can just hear him growling in delight.

I hope my spanish professor never reads this...

Today was rather frustrating. I missed Spanish class this morning for the first time because I have the flu. I spent the morning working on homework and I didn't eat anything so I could still go to my other classes without getting sick at school. Although we're allowed five absences in my Spanish class, I still felt guilty for missing because I have been supplying the computer for the class. Every day as soon as I get off the bus, I go to the Spanish classroom and set up my computer for the professor to use. I offered the second day of class to let her use my computer just to show us how to do the online homework. It turns out she doesn't know how to do the online homework, and so I got roped into explaining to the class how to do it (even though I'd only used the website once). Then she told the class that I was the teacher for the online homework and to come to me with questions. She then proceeded to use my computer for the rest of her lesson which heavily involved a PowerPoint presentation. All was well until I went to get my computer at the end of class and she said to me, "you'll be here tomorrow with that, right?" I kind of laughed and said, sure. I was being nice, which is good, right? Wrong. All of these things should have been a warning sign that she was going to utilize me in whatever way she saw fit.
For the past three weeks I've allowed her to use my computer every day. Yes, she has said thank-you and that is nice but it doesn't stop there. Over the course of the first week of class I spoke with her about her computer situation. She told me that she does have access to a laptop, but that it really belongs to her husband and it's so old and heavy, she hates to carry it around. I understand that, my computer is about 8 lbs. and I haul it to and from Provo on the bus every day. Then, the second week of class I ordered a tablet which is only 3 lbs. Very nice for me, but not so great for my Spanish Professor because the tablet doesn't have the right port to hook into the projector in the Spanish classroom. I was concerned about leaving her in a lurch and so I let her know last week that I would soon be switching computers. Before doing this however, I talked to my Dad, who happens to work in BYU's IT department. I told him the situation: that I was supplying the computer for my class and asked if BYU could possibly lend my Spanish Professor a laptop. He assured me that they could and even found the contact information for the IT guy assigned to her department. I took the information to my professor when I told her about not being able to supply the computer for the class starting sometime in the next couple of weeks. She seemed very excited about the prospect of getting a computer from BYU. I explained to her that it would just be a rental and that she would have to return it when she was no longer teaching. She said that was just fine and I offered to have my Dad contact the IT guy for her department if she felt uncomfortable doing so. She said that would be wonderful and so I dutifully called my Dad and asked him to call Mr. Humanities Department IT guy. So he did. He called and e-mailed. He even talked to the IT guy's student employees. I spent time trying to get her a computer and so did my dad.
Finally, the IT guy responded in an e-mail yesterday and assured us that he could get my Spanish Professor a computer. I told her this in class and she seemed ecstatic. I told her that the IT guy would be contacting her and she said that would be okay. Everything seemed golden to me. That is, until I opened up my e-mail this morning to see a forwarded message from my Dad. Mr. IT guy had done some research and some calling around and he sent an e-mail to my Dad informing him that my Spanish Professor ALREADY HAS A COMPUTER FROM BYU!!! What?! I reread the e-mail again. That's right, her department has already issued her a laptop that she won't use because she has complained that it weighs too much. I couldn't believe it. Here I am hauling my giant, rather heavy laptop on the bus an hour each way every single day of the week so that she has one to use. I come early to set it up every day. I help her in class when she has computer problems. And now I find out that she really has access to two different laptops and has instead been using mine. That is a little frustrating, but I can handle it. What bothers me even more is that she let me waste my time, my Dad's time and Mr. IT guy's time trying to get her a laptop when she already has one. I don't understand why she didn't just tell me that she already had one. I also don't understand what she thought would happen. Did she think she would get issued another laptop? She repeatedly told me that she wanted a small laptop and I told her that I would do my best, but that the department decided what to issue her. She knew all along that she already had a laptop from BYU. She could have asked to trade it in for a different one, but instead she decided to not bother telling me at all. Now I have to go to class tomorrow and I know she'll ask me about it, just like she does every day. What am I supposed to say? No, you can't have another one. I'm stuck in this awkward situation where I have to, in some sense, call her out on the information she withheld. I don't know what to do. I'll just try to be as polite as I can and let her know she won't be getting another computer.
The good news (and sort of bad news at the same time) is that this situation has answered a question I've been puzzling over lately. I generally try to be as nice as I can to people. I offer to help when I can and I always follow through with what I say I'll do. Recently I've found myself in a few different situations, the one above included, where my kindness has landed me in a rut. Which makes me wonder, is there such a thing as being too nice? The old me would have said no, but now I'm not so sure. I guess my rose-colored glasses just fell off.

Superpowers

If I could have any superpower, I would have the superpower that allowed making anyone laugh at any given time. I know, I know, at first this seems like a useless superpower. Who cares if you can make people laugh if you can fly or read minds, but I am telling you the laugh-maker superpower is the best one out there. Just imagine meeting up with an evil villain. No need to break out those karate skills you learned when you were 8, you can just tell a joke. Then while his overwhelming, evil laugh makes him bend over and clutch his stomach, you can save the day.
Another thing you can do with the laugh-maker superpower is to make a lot of money by writing a tv show that's funny or writing a funny book. You could even be the world's greatest stand-up comedian. Everyone will think you're funny and by extension they will think your writing and/or performances are hilarious too. You could write the next Southpark, or The Office and it would run forever because you'll never stop being gut-wrenchingly hilarious.
Can you see now why I would choose the superpower of making anyone laugh whenever I wanted?

Things that Blow Away...

I forgot my charger for my computer today so I had to hand-write my response to today's in-class prompt. However, I was pleased to discover that the prompt was inspired by the chapter titles of Rebecca Stead's YA novel, When You Reach Me, which I just read on Tuesday. I loved it! It definitely deserved a Newberry. Professor Dean let us choose our prompt from all the chapter titles which are all formatted like subjects that could be on the 20,000 Pyramid Show that plays a role in Stead's novel as well.

The topic I chose was: things that blow away.

Things that blow away...
- umbrellas
- jackets
- papers
- homework
- tissues
- plastic bags
- trash
- wrappers
- receipts
- balloons
- leaves
- money
- snowflakes
- hot-air balloons
and in a really strong gust of wind, perhaps...
- buildings
- houses
- people
- memories
- people
- cars
- animals

A Jester, a Palace, a Dragon and a Jolly Postman.

Prompt:
A. 1 - Jester
B. 2 - Palace
C. 4 - Dragon
D. 3 - Jolly Postman

Once upon a time there lived a jester in a faraway palace. This jester had a problem. He could not be funny. No matter how many flips he did, jokes he told or things that he juggled, the royal court would not laugh. The Jester tried day after day to rouse a chuckle from even one duke or lord. Secretly, the Jester hoped that he could make the Prince or the King laugh. He practiced his jokes at night. He even spent afternoons out on the great lawn practicing his acrobatics. All of this he did with a heavy heart because he knew the next day he would stand in front of the royal court and perform in front of their dull silence yet again. One day the jester thought of a perfect joke and he became so excited. This would be the joke to make them laugh. The next day he stood in front of the crowded court and said loudly, "What did the 0 say to the 8?" Pure silence followed and so the Jester went right on to the punchline, "Nice belt!" Not one peep arose from the crowd. The Jester became so angry he threw all his jesting supplies on the floor. He stomped and hollered. He turned red. Finally, the king told the Jester to come into his private chambers. Once they arrived the king told the Jester the true reason why no one laughed at his jokes. Many years before the Jester became a jester, a bored dragon sent a note to the King via the jolly postman. The dragon stated that if anyone ever laughed again at a Jester the bored dragon would set the whole kingdom ablaze. In fear the king secretly told all the members of the royal court that it was a matter of royal security to keep silent during the Jester's performance. This was the reason that no one laughed. At that moment, the Jester decided that the only way to make the royal court laugh was to eliminate the dragon. With a defiant attitude, the Jester ran to the stables and borrowed a horse. He raced to the house of the Jolly Postman and he asked where the dragon lived. The Jolly Postman warned the Jester not to go, but the Jester insisted and so finally the Jolly Postman gave in. The jester rode for many days over mountainous terrain until he finally reached the cave of the Dragon. The jester's knees wobbled and his heart beat loudly. He had never been so scared in his life. The jester didn't allow himself another second to think about it and instead he dove quickly into the cave. Immediately his eyes laid on the largest, most magnificent dragon he had ever seen. The Dragon reared his head and opened his mouth to set the Jester on fire. Before the dragon had a chance to blow fire his way, the jester began to do what he did best: he jested. The Jester told the most hilarious jokes he could think of and he did dozens of flips and jumps around the cave. The dragon was so distracted that he forgot his anger. Instead he roared with laughter and his eyes widened with amazement. The jester was the funniest creature he had ever met. After the Jester had finished his performance he yelled up to the dragon, "Please, let the royal court laugh at my jesting." The dragon thought for a second and then stepped to the edge of the cave and suddenly burst into flight. The Jester quickly hopped on the royal horse and raced back to the kingdom. He was worried that the dragon would set his whole Kingdom ablaze. He raced home without stopping. The royal horse was exhausted but the Jester urged him on. Finally the arrived at the Kingdom to find everything seemed to be the same. The Jester went immediately to the palace and headed to the great hall where the Royal Court met every day. When he entered the hall the Royal Court received him with boundless applause. The jester began to jump and flip. He hollered jokes over the clapping and it was replaced by the loudest, most enthusiastic laughter the Jester had ever heard. Even the Royal family in their fancy, royal clothes were rolling on the floor with laughter.
The End.

Candy Memories Write

My memories of candy are varied and numerous. From a very young age candy has been something that I eat often in small quantities and occasionally in large quantities. I remember jumping on the trampoline as a little kid and talking with my brother about having a house full of Skittles when we were adults. I remember sneaking treats into my room on Sunday afternoons so that I could have candy snacks while I read. Sometimes, I can even remember what candy treat I was eating when I read a certain book. Those old fashioned watermelon candies when I read Margaret Atwood's, Robber Bride after coming home from high school. Something about the taste of the candy and the warm sun filtering through the window while I lay on the couch in the front room, will always remind me of that book. It seems they are infinitely connected to one another.
During more recent years, candy has become a source of enjoyment between Shaun and I. When he went to Africa for four months, I mailed him a giant package of strawberry licorice (his favorite candy). He ate the whole 2 lbs. of licorice in one day and then wondered why he had heartburn. Now, after two-and-a-half years of dating, he knows when I'm sitting there on the couch reading while he's sketching or painting on the computer, that I am going to, inevitably, want a reading treat. He'll pad upstairs and say hi to Teddy (dog) and bring me down a few jelly beans or a pack of Razzles. I remember our first Valentine's Day he bought me a giant box of chocolates, only to discover I don't even like it. He's learned now what I like and don't like. We both like Twizzlers over Red Vines and he knows I'm always going to give him the flavors I don't like of whatever candy we're eating. We're candy eaters. And it's nice.