Idea #1:
A few blocks away from my house is a park like any other. However, there is one thing about this park that causes it to stand out from the rest. Within this park is a smaller park, a skate park where daredevils and risk takers fly around and soar through the air on bikes and skateboards.
This park within a park lasted for about four months before being shutdown. A huge red shine hangs on the fence with talk about relocation.
Now the work of thousands of tax dollars sits deserted, an empty shell.
With this environment, I could talk about a world within a world that is one day alive, and is invisible the next. How something so massive can go untouched and unnoticed and slowly die out like a candle in the wind.
Idea #2:
Only on the days that I assume I am about to be late for class do the geese of Warinaco park decide to use the cross walk and stop me from reaching my goal. They line up and actually use the crosswalk together.
I'll stop and the people behind me on this two lane road decide to get out from behind me and speed down the one way road only to find that I haven't been sitting there like a moron for no reason.
The geese are so orderly and follow one another in a very humane fashion. This makes it ironic to see humans with road rage act like animals in front of them. I can be walking through the park or skating it and see someone in my shoes on their way to work, or school, or home being passed by impatient people who are inevitably stopped by this wall of geese.
Humans acting like animals and animals acting humanely...ironic.
Idea #3:
Crickets.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Monday, October 22, 2007
Blog 8 - Nature Essay
I think my nature essay will be about the “impossible”. To clarify, it will be about my two friends’ attempt at catching a rabbit. The rabbit in particular will be the Eastern Cottontail which can gain up to 15 mph. I’ve seen it in action a lot of times and it is really quick.
Don't let it's fluffy fur fool you...it's a vicious animal, just waiting to attack.
And they're spreading...
Volkswagen has a car called the Rabbit that's pretty quick:
But yeah....my essay is about the eastern cottontail rabbit and the things deemed "impossible" by the majority of humanity.
Hopefully it'll work out.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Blog 7
• What is your story about? Are the details you selected true to that focus?
My story is about how short life can be as opposed to how long it actually is for individuals. The details I chose for the focus relate to near death experiences, so yes they are true to it.
• Are there any "facts" which you are uncertain of which you have set forward as true?
Any details I relish on in my story aren’t so in-depth as to make me doubt the reality and honesty of them.
• Have you made changes in setting, time, or sequence which are unacknowledged?
No.
• Have you fabricated dialog which you cannot remember (without acknowledging that you do not remember exact words)?
Of the very little dialogue, I had…no.
• Have you written your experience - or does your story cast you in terms of a "type" (like Frey)?
No types here.
• Are there relevant details which you deliberately left out? Why did you leave them out? Anything you are trying to avoid?
Any details that I left out weren’t done so intentionally nor do they take away from the story and what it is I am trying to focus on.
• Do you suspect any resort to psychological defense - representations which may help you to deny or evade feelings/beliefs/ representations/ actions you may not be proud of?
No. In fact, the story begins with an embarrassing account.
• Can you detect any hedges, evasions, revisions which represent the self as more sophisticated, experienced, thoughtful, etc than the self at the time of the writing?
No. Once again, the beginning of the story is quite discreditable if I do say so myself. Although I was just a kid. I don’t make myself Superman however.
• What is suggested by what you selected to represent, and what you chose to leave out? Have you selected details to make your story more dramatic, more persuasive, or more "profound" than it merits? Does it need to be balanced by the addition of other selections in order to make it "true"?
Nothing needs to be added to make it “true”. The story is true as is and is a blend of drama and philosophical matter.
• Does the tone of your essay reveal anything about your relationship to your material? Why do you think you chose the tone you take in your essay (humorous, ironic, serious, self-righteous, respectful, lyrical . . . .)
The tone of the essay makes me seem untroubled and relaxed in regards to the material. The tone I took with my essay was serious with a slight bit of humor. I did this because I want it to be enjoyable yet thought provoking.
• Have you demonized or idealized any of the people in your story? If so, what was your motive? Why do you think you wrote to that particular need?
I didn’t defame any individual in my story profusely.
• If there are some pieces of the truth that you intend to hold back, can you tell this story "truthfully" despite those missing pieces? What might you need to add to make sure you do not misrepresent what your story is about?
Lying and leaving things out are two different things. Telling the truth does not always mean going into every little detail.
My story is about how short life can be as opposed to how long it actually is for individuals. The details I chose for the focus relate to near death experiences, so yes they are true to it.
• Are there any "facts" which you are uncertain of which you have set forward as true?
Any details I relish on in my story aren’t so in-depth as to make me doubt the reality and honesty of them.
• Have you made changes in setting, time, or sequence which are unacknowledged?
No.
• Have you fabricated dialog which you cannot remember (without acknowledging that you do not remember exact words)?
Of the very little dialogue, I had…no.
• Have you written your experience - or does your story cast you in terms of a "type" (like Frey)?
No types here.
• Are there relevant details which you deliberately left out? Why did you leave them out? Anything you are trying to avoid?
Any details that I left out weren’t done so intentionally nor do they take away from the story and what it is I am trying to focus on.
• Do you suspect any resort to psychological defense - representations which may help you to deny or evade feelings/beliefs/ representations/ actions you may not be proud of?
No. In fact, the story begins with an embarrassing account.
• Can you detect any hedges, evasions, revisions which represent the self as more sophisticated, experienced, thoughtful, etc than the self at the time of the writing?
No. Once again, the beginning of the story is quite discreditable if I do say so myself. Although I was just a kid. I don’t make myself Superman however.
• What is suggested by what you selected to represent, and what you chose to leave out? Have you selected details to make your story more dramatic, more persuasive, or more "profound" than it merits? Does it need to be balanced by the addition of other selections in order to make it "true"?
Nothing needs to be added to make it “true”. The story is true as is and is a blend of drama and philosophical matter.
• Does the tone of your essay reveal anything about your relationship to your material? Why do you think you chose the tone you take in your essay (humorous, ironic, serious, self-righteous, respectful, lyrical . . . .)
The tone of the essay makes me seem untroubled and relaxed in regards to the material. The tone I took with my essay was serious with a slight bit of humor. I did this because I want it to be enjoyable yet thought provoking.
• Have you demonized or idealized any of the people in your story? If so, what was your motive? Why do you think you wrote to that particular need?
I didn’t defame any individual in my story profusely.
• If there are some pieces of the truth that you intend to hold back, can you tell this story "truthfully" despite those missing pieces? What might you need to add to make sure you do not misrepresent what your story is about?
Lying and leaving things out are two different things. Telling the truth does not always mean going into every little detail.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Blog 6.5
An authors' responsibility to its readers is to first of all be consistent with the intent of their work. Whether that intent is to inform or entertain, the author must be consistent with his or her method of accomplishing this task. What I mean by this is, if your work is a work of fiction, it can defy the rules of the human world. If its non-fiction, make sure it stays that way and doesn't go over the boundaries of the truth. The truth is just that, the antagonist of lying. Lying is something one would like to avoid when conveying the truth to a massive audience or just a single individual. Depending on the point of view this "truth" is relayed from, the "truth" may differ and perspectives of events and scenarios may conflict. Not only because of differing point of views, but because of the inability to recall events as well as other's. The inability to recall events does not excuse one from lying however and filling in blanks or holes with fictitious items. You can't create events from scratch or brand new characters who have never existed other than in your head and not the real world. You can change names, but it would be best to inform the reader of this. You can't change genders or shave off a decade off of a characters' age. Changes that are obviously quite drastic should be avoided.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Blog 6 - Memoir
One more page and I would be free to go outside and do as I pleased. One more page about pigs and socialism and the world outside my door would soon become my playground. Just one more page until I was finished with chapter five of Animal Farm and the remainder of my day would be liberated from academic responsibility. I hurried through the last three words of the chapter, tossed the book in my backpack and zippered it up to a close. I would revisit that last sentence sometime later in the evening (hopefully). I ran to my window and peered out of it in awe to make sure nothing had changed; the weather was perfect. I rushed to my closet, grabbed my jacket and ran out the door and into a watery wonderland. Yes, that’s right: it was pouring outside.
I don’t know how long I have been underwater for, but I do know one thing---I cannot swim. Its not that I cannot swim, it’s just that I cannot do it for fun. This is my excuse as to why I am sinking twelve feet below the water. I can swim however when it involves saving a life or something of the sort (hopefully). I leapt into the pool with no intention of saving anyone from anything. This is why I’ve become a fish out of water. The birthday music starts to fade from my ears and the kids running around soaking each other with water guns start to become a blur. I can feel the bottom of the pool approaching my back as I descend into darkness. They say your life flashes before your eyes before you die. That’s true. As my vitals began to fade from a lack of oxygen, my life began flashing before my eyes. A movie began playing in my head and it was nothing but a black screen. It didn’t take me long to figure out why the life flashing before my eyes was emptiness…simply put, I was too young to die.
Every year I do this. I go outside exactly a year later and a year ago from this specific date and take a walk in the rain. It always rains on this day. A massive amount of tears descend from the heavens and all that other good stuff and I decide to go out and absorb what I can of it. I love the rain. I scoff at the people I pass with their umbrellas and robust craving to find shelter from the drops of water falling upon their head and shoulders. I want to stop them in their tracks and ask them why they’re so scared of a little water. They would probably look at me as though I am crazy however, so I keep my comments and questions to myself. For a moment, I consider jogging though this waterlogged city I call home and put that consideration to the side almost immediately. When you walk, you observe more than when sprinting. You can’t catch the little details when you’re driving in a car or running.
I sat in my mom’s lap drenched in pool water and covered in a towel. The pool party was still underway but I could feel everyone’s eyes on me. The lifeguard must have doubled as a birthday clown because he kept making jokes. His main intention was probably just to cheer me up. However, I was not amused. He obtained a measuring cup from God knows where and repeatedly kept dipping it in the pool and pouring the water on the ground around me. He did this while laughing and trying to console me. I was not amused. I looked over at the birthday girl and back at the pool and then back at my mom. I don’t know what she was thinking about but she probably wanted me to give the pool thing another go. I didn’t and stayed with her until the next phase of the pool party. All I thought about was how I hated water.
The rain seemed to calm down a little and became a drizzle. I was a little disappointed but it was better than nothing. I was done with walking through the quiet little neighborhoods of Linden and was now on the main street that ran through the whole entire town. The streets were dead and yet alive at the same time. 7-Eleven had two or three cars in the parking lot while Dunkin Donuts had around one. I made my way down the street just looking for details and thinking. I loved to think. Especially about random stuff. Every time I went on one of these walks, I thought about my life and watched it flash before my eyes on a watery movie screen. Most of the moments were of me escaping death in a very narrow fashion. I stopped at a light that was in my favor and watched as a car ran it. If I had went I would have became one with the pavement. That didn’t seem like a decent birthday present. Not a decent one at all.
Ever since we left Jersey City, I think I made it a ritual to camp out in my mom’s room and watch everything TGIF had to offer. After school I would say to myself, “Thank God its Friday” and imagine what hilarious anecdotes Steven Q. Urkel and Corey Matthews would get themselves into this time. Eight in the evening came and my mom, for the hundredth time, told me not to fall asleep on the floor and go to bed when TGIF show line-up was over. Two hours later the end credits rolled for the final show and I collected my pillows, sheets and bedspread and waddled to my bedroom. I stood in the doorway staring at my bed in the corner for about a minute and went back to my mothers’ bedroom floor. I figured if I woke up before she did, I could sneak back into my bed and she would have never known a thing.
I stared at the brake lights of the car that had run the red light. I guess he was the title-holder of “Slowest Reaction Time Ever” or something. Years later, I would get a job at CVS and realize that Linden was filled with every kind of person you could imagine. A yawn escaped my lips and danced around the cool brisk air. I hadn’t slept in ages after declaring it a waste of time. This hypothesis was conjured up after late nights of doing things I would not have to bother with during the day and constant meditation that did what sleeping did for people in a quarter of the time. My bed was now home to folded clothes and piled of books. I hadn’t used my bed or any bed for that matter in a while.
I awoke the next day at about seven in the morning and checked on my mom. She was fast asleep. I gathered up my things and waltzed tiredly to my bedroom with the bedspread over my head. When I had a feeling I was in front of my room I took the cover off of my head and my mouth dropped. And apparently so had the roof. A part of the ceiling was now in my bed and some of it was still crumbling down upon it. I sighed and walked back to my moms room, placed the sheets and pillows on her bedroom floor and went back to sleep with thoughts of Family Matters and Boy Meets World running through my head. For about a week, I would need to find somewhere else to sleep while men with hammers and saws put my roof back together again. I knew just the place.
An hour had gone by and I was nearing my block. I thought about next year and the year after that. I thought about rain and the summer. I thought about Animal Farm and communism. I thought random stuff. Really, random stuff. I got to my porch and fumbled with my house keys in an involuntary attempt to prolong my stay outside in the rain.
I don’t know how long I have been underwater for, but I do know one thing---I cannot swim. Its not that I cannot swim, it’s just that I cannot do it for fun. This is my excuse as to why I am sinking twelve feet below the water. I can swim however when it involves saving a life or something of the sort (hopefully). I leapt into the pool with no intention of saving anyone from anything. This is why I’ve become a fish out of water. The birthday music starts to fade from my ears and the kids running around soaking each other with water guns start to become a blur. I can feel the bottom of the pool approaching my back as I descend into darkness. They say your life flashes before your eyes before you die. That’s true. As my vitals began to fade from a lack of oxygen, my life began flashing before my eyes. A movie began playing in my head and it was nothing but a black screen. It didn’t take me long to figure out why the life flashing before my eyes was emptiness…simply put, I was too young to die.
Every year I do this. I go outside exactly a year later and a year ago from this specific date and take a walk in the rain. It always rains on this day. A massive amount of tears descend from the heavens and all that other good stuff and I decide to go out and absorb what I can of it. I love the rain. I scoff at the people I pass with their umbrellas and robust craving to find shelter from the drops of water falling upon their head and shoulders. I want to stop them in their tracks and ask them why they’re so scared of a little water. They would probably look at me as though I am crazy however, so I keep my comments and questions to myself. For a moment, I consider jogging though this waterlogged city I call home and put that consideration to the side almost immediately. When you walk, you observe more than when sprinting. You can’t catch the little details when you’re driving in a car or running.
I sat in my mom’s lap drenched in pool water and covered in a towel. The pool party was still underway but I could feel everyone’s eyes on me. The lifeguard must have doubled as a birthday clown because he kept making jokes. His main intention was probably just to cheer me up. However, I was not amused. He obtained a measuring cup from God knows where and repeatedly kept dipping it in the pool and pouring the water on the ground around me. He did this while laughing and trying to console me. I was not amused. I looked over at the birthday girl and back at the pool and then back at my mom. I don’t know what she was thinking about but she probably wanted me to give the pool thing another go. I didn’t and stayed with her until the next phase of the pool party. All I thought about was how I hated water.
The rain seemed to calm down a little and became a drizzle. I was a little disappointed but it was better than nothing. I was done with walking through the quiet little neighborhoods of Linden and was now on the main street that ran through the whole entire town. The streets were dead and yet alive at the same time. 7-Eleven had two or three cars in the parking lot while Dunkin Donuts had around one. I made my way down the street just looking for details and thinking. I loved to think. Especially about random stuff. Every time I went on one of these walks, I thought about my life and watched it flash before my eyes on a watery movie screen. Most of the moments were of me escaping death in a very narrow fashion. I stopped at a light that was in my favor and watched as a car ran it. If I had went I would have became one with the pavement. That didn’t seem like a decent birthday present. Not a decent one at all.
Ever since we left Jersey City, I think I made it a ritual to camp out in my mom’s room and watch everything TGIF had to offer. After school I would say to myself, “Thank God its Friday” and imagine what hilarious anecdotes Steven Q. Urkel and Corey Matthews would get themselves into this time. Eight in the evening came and my mom, for the hundredth time, told me not to fall asleep on the floor and go to bed when TGIF show line-up was over. Two hours later the end credits rolled for the final show and I collected my pillows, sheets and bedspread and waddled to my bedroom. I stood in the doorway staring at my bed in the corner for about a minute and went back to my mothers’ bedroom floor. I figured if I woke up before she did, I could sneak back into my bed and she would have never known a thing.
I stared at the brake lights of the car that had run the red light. I guess he was the title-holder of “Slowest Reaction Time Ever” or something. Years later, I would get a job at CVS and realize that Linden was filled with every kind of person you could imagine. A yawn escaped my lips and danced around the cool brisk air. I hadn’t slept in ages after declaring it a waste of time. This hypothesis was conjured up after late nights of doing things I would not have to bother with during the day and constant meditation that did what sleeping did for people in a quarter of the time. My bed was now home to folded clothes and piled of books. I hadn’t used my bed or any bed for that matter in a while.
I awoke the next day at about seven in the morning and checked on my mom. She was fast asleep. I gathered up my things and waltzed tiredly to my bedroom with the bedspread over my head. When I had a feeling I was in front of my room I took the cover off of my head and my mouth dropped. And apparently so had the roof. A part of the ceiling was now in my bed and some of it was still crumbling down upon it. I sighed and walked back to my moms room, placed the sheets and pillows on her bedroom floor and went back to sleep with thoughts of Family Matters and Boy Meets World running through my head. For about a week, I would need to find somewhere else to sleep while men with hammers and saws put my roof back together again. I knew just the place.
An hour had gone by and I was nearing my block. I thought about next year and the year after that. I thought about rain and the summer. I thought about Animal Farm and communism. I thought random stuff. Really, random stuff. I got to my porch and fumbled with my house keys in an involuntary attempt to prolong my stay outside in the rain.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Blog 5: Personal Essay Analysis
My essay is about perseverance and being intrepid. It’s also about the fact that I believe everyone should live life or die trying and that you only get one shot to do the things you want to do them. Sure, what you don’t do today can be held off for tomorrow but who knows if they’re going to be here tomorrow? No one. For this reason, and this reason alone you should carpe diem and seize the day. You should free your mind of all supposed self-boundaries and extinguish all borders and limitations. Instead, free yourself from imprisonment and let go. Later on down the road you’ll be able to build on the things you acquired (mental or physical) that only needed you to have faith in yourself.
To display this to my audience of young adults I compared and contrasted to different times in my life in which I faced a similar obstacle that varied in magnitude respectively: a set of stairs. The essay is segmented in such a way that past and present are separated. In the past, a juvenile me is faced with tricking down a two set while in the future, a more evolved me is faced with tricking down a five set. The younger me finds it difficult, but eventually builds up the confidence to do what he sought after. The older me has no problem with the more advanced scenario and tricks down the five stair repeatedly effortlessly.
This wouldn’t have been possible if I didn’t face my inner demon against that two set years ago.
By segmenting the essay the way I did, I allowed the reader to understand my purpose more. I also compared skateboarding to dancing along with every other thing in life to captivate the reader even further.
To display this to my audience of young adults I compared and contrasted to different times in my life in which I faced a similar obstacle that varied in magnitude respectively: a set of stairs. The essay is segmented in such a way that past and present are separated. In the past, a juvenile me is faced with tricking down a two set while in the future, a more evolved me is faced with tricking down a five set. The younger me finds it difficult, but eventually builds up the confidence to do what he sought after. The older me has no problem with the more advanced scenario and tricks down the five stair repeatedly effortlessly.
This wouldn’t have been possible if I didn’t face my inner demon against that two set years ago.
By segmenting the essay the way I did, I allowed the reader to understand my purpose more. I also compared skateboarding to dancing along with every other thing in life to captivate the reader even further.
Blog 3: Pre-Writing for Memoir
Earliest Memories
Boxing in the park with my brothers and father
Going to rent a movie with my mom and brothers
Hockey in gym, 2nd grade
Moving from Jersey City to Linden at the end of 2nd grade
Liberty State park in the fog
Trying to keep up with my dad at the track
1st and 2nd Grade field trips
Important People
Mom – Really, really, really cares about me.
Pedro – My equivalent of a best friend
Darian and Julian – Provide me with insight into things I may be too busy to deal with. Provide a good laugh.
Dad –When I was kid he was the “All Work and No play makes jack a dull boy” parent.
Joe – Helps out around the house.
Jovia – Little sister. Innate need to look after her.
Nikkee and Frank and Steven: I’ve known them since I moved to Linden
-Mr. Bastedo – Made high school fun
The Candy Shop – Makes life all the more fun.
Anger
My bike got stolen.
Important Places
Jersey City. Where I was born. I go there a lot more nowadays. My room, no matter what home it was in. My bedroom has always been a sanctuary for me and acts as the museum of my life. The Bank is where most of my skate days were spent when I first started. All of us use to skate there until 3 AM. NYC isn’t more important than Jersey City, but it’s on the list of place I can go to just to forget about the rest of the universe. Linden High School…four the most entertaining and interesting years of my life were spent there especially in the second to last year there of my school career. Soehl Middle School, I went here right after leaving the Jersey City school system. I met some interesting characters here, most of which I see on a regular basis even today.
Family Story About Me
Mom says I use to be able to dance really, really well. She also says I keep a lot crap in my room. I honestly don’t think of the stuff in my room as crap.
Best thing to happen to me in my life
I wouldn’t mind leaving my mark on the world before I die. I wouldn’t mind walking into a room and people knowing who I am. More importantly, knowing what I’ve done. Whether its produce a movie, write a script, direct a movie star in a movie or publish a book. I want to stimulate the masses and create more open minded audiences.
Boxing in the park with my brothers and father
Going to rent a movie with my mom and brothers
Hockey in gym, 2nd grade
Moving from Jersey City to Linden at the end of 2nd grade
Liberty State park in the fog
Trying to keep up with my dad at the track
1st and 2nd Grade field trips
Important People
Mom – Really, really, really cares about me.
Pedro – My equivalent of a best friend
Darian and Julian – Provide me with insight into things I may be too busy to deal with. Provide a good laugh.
Dad –When I was kid he was the “All Work and No play makes jack a dull boy” parent.
Joe – Helps out around the house.
Jovia – Little sister. Innate need to look after her.
Nikkee and Frank and Steven: I’ve known them since I moved to Linden
-Mr. Bastedo – Made high school fun
The Candy Shop – Makes life all the more fun.
Anger
My bike got stolen.
Important Places
Jersey City. Where I was born. I go there a lot more nowadays. My room, no matter what home it was in. My bedroom has always been a sanctuary for me and acts as the museum of my life. The Bank is where most of my skate days were spent when I first started. All of us use to skate there until 3 AM. NYC isn’t more important than Jersey City, but it’s on the list of place I can go to just to forget about the rest of the universe. Linden High School…four the most entertaining and interesting years of my life were spent there especially in the second to last year there of my school career. Soehl Middle School, I went here right after leaving the Jersey City school system. I met some interesting characters here, most of which I see on a regular basis even today.
Family Story About Me
Mom says I use to be able to dance really, really well. She also says I keep a lot crap in my room. I honestly don’t think of the stuff in my room as crap.
Best thing to happen to me in my life
I wouldn’t mind leaving my mark on the world before I die. I wouldn’t mind walking into a room and people knowing who I am. More importantly, knowing what I’ve done. Whether its produce a movie, write a script, direct a movie star in a movie or publish a book. I want to stimulate the masses and create more open minded audiences.
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