Freewrite #11
Chalise sat down to her new book, treasuring the site of it. She always loved reading. It transported her to a world which was completely separate from her own. Oh the joy of reading! She thought. As she began to immerse herself into the book, she fell in love with the romantic interest. Who couldn’t fallin love with him? He was soo very attractive. Not too tall so as to tower unreachable over her, but not too short so that he was eye level with her. She had to look up just a little for he was only a couple of inches above her. He had light He had dark hair and light blue eyes. The most gorgeous eyes ever, she thought. She imagined him walking towards her. Had someone been watching her as she daydreamed, that someone would have noticed that Chalise was sitting with her head up, moth half open, eyes closed, and a silly, giddy, smile on her face. The attractive man walked towards her still… her heart began to beat more quickly- oh, how lovely his eyes are! She thought. He was only a few inches away and she could smell his cologne- how lovely is that smell? I once smelled that smell before, and upon smelling it I told myself, “If if a guy ever smelled like that and wasn’t creepy, I’d fall in love with him” wlel, this guy isn’t creepy, and he smells like that. I am falling in love. He gives me his hand, askes me to dance- finall someone at the stake dances that actually asks girls to dance! He has a nice firm hand, holding tightly onto mine, like he never wants to let go. Oh, I am in love! Or so Chalise thinks.
Or so Chalise thinks. He looks at her, gazing deeply into her eyes. Of coruse she is gazing back, ferfe fervently awaiting whatever it is that he has to say. “you have mustard on your nose!!”
What?! Mustard!!!! Oh, it’s only Billy. Stupid little brother, disrupting Chalise’s dadream- again. Why is it that everytime my one true love is aobut to say something reall really special and romantic, Billy interrupts? Welll, Chalise, such is the life of having younger siblings, or r rather, the fate of of those with siblings, whether they be younger older or the same age.
Back to her daydream… no, it’s not happening. Chalise can no longer go back to that one, Billy ruined it. She tried and tried, but she could never recapture the moment as it played out in her head. She blamed this on Billy. Everytime the main character love interest was about to saying something to her that was amazingly romantic, she heard Billy’s voice excape his throat, saying “you’ve got mustard on you no your nose!!” and there was nothing she could do to erase him. S tuck there forever.
Chalise sighs, upset that this is haer fate. It’s unfortunate, but true. So much for kissing- I can’t e eeven kiss some made up guy in my daydreams because he’s not realy and I’ve never met him. I haven’t been up to much lately- just homework and such. Lots of homework, and of coruse I’ve been turning morst of it in ontime now ( rob doesn’t have an appt till Wednesday, which is what I thought you were calling about really.
Next year, Mary is thinking about not doing footall, but doing track. I think it’d be pretty cool to have a diver do sdim, and he in several things tend to by more psyach. Some classes seem really interesting to me, but I know, for example, that I couldn’ tget pie plates medez. Isn’t that interesting? I thought so, esp. since last noped as long and stinno tassic with floow!! See you now! Love ya!
Cassn
SD. Okay,
Well, I happen to be getting very quiet. I wonder if I’ve been taying anything youldn’t that be funny if I were… In fact, I really wouldn’t surprised. Oh, how about, I’m awake again, looking at what I’ve written, and I think I started to fall asleep after “I think it’d be pretty cool to have ….” A diver do swim? Mary’s not a diver- I am. And he in several things tend to be more psyach- in several ways mary tends to be more physical than me? I remember thinking of gymnastics just a few moments ago… I wonder what that was all about… Funny funny. I think my next freewrite I’ll let myself start to fall asleep, and then see what I write. Okay, well, off to that, now, since this here is about a page!
23 October 2006
freewrite #12- the funniest of all
Freewrite #12
Okay, here is the last one. I will type it quick. I am tired, so I decided that I will type and let myself fall asleep, just with the idea of don’t stop typing going through my head. We will see what I write, because that will be really really interesting to find out.
Okay, closing my eyes. Listening to music. It’s Les Miserables. Still not sasleep. How about now? Y’know typing really isn’t that difficult for me since I’ve been typing forever. I wonder where tugger went- he’s somewhere around here isn’t he? He must be.
It’s difficult to get his attention since he’s deaf. Oh, here we go, having my eyes closed, the lids are starting to get heavy and it almost feels like I have a load already to go and ater we puick up. Sister Lofgran, I aam so grateful for everything oh look, I’m a wake again- I started to wake up right after or during while I was typing Sister Lofgran. I don’t remember what I said before that… Well, continuing with my rt typing (I never took a break, btw, I realized realied mostly on the other for help, because I was blind and confined to a weelbchair. It is all very confusing. Tomas it pretty cool. I’m sort of awake again. I wonder if I am in Zimbabwe…. See I’m started to wake up again, because when I start to wake up a g ain, I notice that last couple words that I typing, and then I realize that what I’m trying to sayn’t by feature working. Oh look.
I stopped typing. Whoops. Shame on me. Anyhow, I wanted to forward forward this because it’s silly. I wasnna drive it first. Why? I’m not so sure… funny stuff. Perhaps if we llived so much closer to the music stand, there would be cassy only 2- minutes from this classes. Pint taken. This class seems like good communication skills, and other lactic. Righnow now I should take a few mminutes and leaving heand foryou my information. Like I said , emailing is bes, when you ‘ve va e.f Se Seen me some paikces cv ckup? That’s sooo bI need to find my boosline . You’re fav rooon please help me to gkeep writing.
I keep on storeopping, and then I realized I’ve started. What does a printer dood er reou you dno’t doo and of the doodwaeelish, fra (how do the quarts stillhave ear), you an har please help mom to find a jobn. I mean, she already has a jobn. Please helpe
I am wondering where the turn signal on this car is. Oh, I found it! I could payed sixty, though that a pretty nokay, I wonder if I am down, not that I am abnout halfway here. Let’s check and seefar where just started primary.
Wow, my eyes are open, and I’m awake again. I think that Ireally did fall asleep there while I was writing. After I submit it (my work is already late because it past midnight, but I’m hoping it’ll be okay- my stomach was being silly and I couldn’t “hold it” any longer and had to use the restroom, and mary took forever to let me on the computer). Perhaps other people have typed while they were falling asleep. It looks like I had a lot of typos…. Is this a page yet? How about now? Not quite… unfortunate. I think that this should count as a full page, because it basically is one.
But not quite, so I still have more to say. Well, poor Tugger got scared. He was continually looking under my bed for libby, trying to get to her, but she didn’t like that, so she growled at him, not that he noticed ‘cuz he’s deaf…. Well, anyhow, the boxes we had ou are here for the other animals finally what do you think we’re gonna move the washer for… wowm that’s someinteresting looking s tuff. So, amber, how do you like your communication class? Like, I said, it sounds really interesting class, I wanna take it… haha. Okay, well havefun in there. Don’t fall out. It was it Katie that you guys were telling not to fall over? It was friends please help me father, am I done yet? I should probably reponen my family and responsiblility for my actions. HowBRAKE, HOW LONG ARE THESE GONNA BE ON YOU!! LET’S SEE HOW CLOSE TO THE IMAGINARY LINE I SEE. Time to get out and check. What does mom said, “yeah”- she sounds tired! And Brynn- how was it Brynn? Well, I’m falling asleep, and this must be a ge, so good night. I love and appreciate you al, even though it sometimes steems are tjat resnet more or jhusrsh/pressure/drugs etc. can affect a fetus severely. That’s unfortunate. I am blad enough to get me to do this. What am I doing? Am I done ytet? Yes, I hithink I will better brepared for blah blahj blah blah… pb%J. Okay, wall acreasing nexte from maybe grandpa will elst us drive to where go tget condolice. I’ve criver’s aed, and that ekarand now I’d like to end. The end. Now long is it? Long ehough? Let’s hope so- knowck on lib (unless you don’ot have anyhow, in the which was………………………make as much funtist cucssle Jomes. James. Is that better. Pirni[ellp, we’ll help yta out.
Oh well. ttyl love ya!!
Okay, here is the last one. I will type it quick. I am tired, so I decided that I will type and let myself fall asleep, just with the idea of don’t stop typing going through my head. We will see what I write, because that will be really really interesting to find out.
Okay, closing my eyes. Listening to music. It’s Les Miserables. Still not sasleep. How about now? Y’know typing really isn’t that difficult for me since I’ve been typing forever. I wonder where tugger went- he’s somewhere around here isn’t he? He must be.
It’s difficult to get his attention since he’s deaf. Oh, here we go, having my eyes closed, the lids are starting to get heavy and it almost feels like I have a load already to go and ater we puick up. Sister Lofgran, I aam so grateful for everything oh look, I’m a wake again- I started to wake up right after or during while I was typing Sister Lofgran. I don’t remember what I said before that… Well, continuing with my rt typing (I never took a break, btw, I realized realied mostly on the other for help, because I was blind and confined to a weelbchair. It is all very confusing. Tomas it pretty cool. I’m sort of awake again. I wonder if I am in Zimbabwe…. See I’m started to wake up again, because when I start to wake up a g ain, I notice that last couple words that I typing, and then I realize that what I’m trying to sayn’t by feature working. Oh look.
I stopped typing. Whoops. Shame on me. Anyhow, I wanted to forward forward this because it’s silly. I wasnna drive it first. Why? I’m not so sure… funny stuff. Perhaps if we llived so much closer to the music stand, there would be cassy only 2- minutes from this classes. Pint taken. This class seems like good communication skills, and other lactic. Righnow now I should take a few mminutes and leaving heand foryou my information. Like I said , emailing is bes, when you ‘ve va e.f Se Seen me some paikces cv ckup? That’s sooo bI need to find my boosline . You’re fav rooon please help me to gkeep writing.
I keep on storeopping, and then I realized I’ve started. What does a printer dood er reou you dno’t doo and of the doodwaeelish, fra (how do the quarts stillhave ear), you an har please help mom to find a jobn. I mean, she already has a jobn. Please helpe
I am wondering where the turn signal on this car is. Oh, I found it! I could payed sixty, though that a pretty nokay, I wonder if I am down, not that I am abnout halfway here. Let’s check and seefar where just started primary.
Wow, my eyes are open, and I’m awake again. I think that Ireally did fall asleep there while I was writing. After I submit it (my work is already late because it past midnight, but I’m hoping it’ll be okay- my stomach was being silly and I couldn’t “hold it” any longer and had to use the restroom, and mary took forever to let me on the computer). Perhaps other people have typed while they were falling asleep. It looks like I had a lot of typos…. Is this a page yet? How about now? Not quite… unfortunate. I think that this should count as a full page, because it basically is one.
But not quite, so I still have more to say. Well, poor Tugger got scared. He was continually looking under my bed for libby, trying to get to her, but she didn’t like that, so she growled at him, not that he noticed ‘cuz he’s deaf…. Well, anyhow, the boxes we had ou are here for the other animals finally what do you think we’re gonna move the washer for… wowm that’s someinteresting looking s tuff. So, amber, how do you like your communication class? Like, I said, it sounds really interesting class, I wanna take it… haha. Okay, well havefun in there. Don’t fall out. It was it Katie that you guys were telling not to fall over? It was friends please help me father, am I done yet? I should probably reponen my family and responsiblility for my actions. HowBRAKE, HOW LONG ARE THESE GONNA BE ON YOU!! LET’S SEE HOW CLOSE TO THE IMAGINARY LINE I SEE. Time to get out and check. What does mom said, “yeah”- she sounds tired! And Brynn- how was it Brynn? Well, I’m falling asleep, and this must be a ge, so good night. I love and appreciate you al, even though it sometimes steems are tjat resnet more or jhusrsh/pressure/drugs etc. can affect a fetus severely. That’s unfortunate. I am blad enough to get me to do this. What am I doing? Am I done ytet? Yes, I hithink I will better brepared for blah blahj blah blah… pb%J. Okay, wall acreasing nexte from maybe grandpa will elst us drive to where go tget condolice. I’ve criver’s aed, and that ekarand now I’d like to end. The end. Now long is it? Long ehough? Let’s hope so- knowck on lib (unless you don’ot have anyhow, in the which was………………………make as much funtist cucssle Jomes. James. Is that better. Pirni[ellp, we’ll help yta out.
Oh well. ttyl love ya!!
21 October 2006
The Joy of Reading- literacy narrative rough draft #2
The Joy of Reading
There is this Gilmore Girls episode where one of the main characters, Rory, is showing a girl around the Yale Library. Rory walks up to the old books, takes one out of the shelf, opens it, and then extends it towards the girl, saying, “smell that! That is just the best smell in the world! I love it!! Don’t you love it?!!” Well, Rory, I happen to love it.
It's Sunday morning, and I get up out of bed. (I am a young elementary school child.) Go ask mom if I Can watch TV? No. It's Sunday. Just find something quiet to do. So I walk around our little apartment, bored, trying to figure out what to do. No TV. Brownies are off-limits. I see my mom's bookshelf, full of books from her college days and then just books that she likes and has collected over the years. I wander over to the bookshelf and take an old black book off the shelf. The corners of the cover are twisted in like they've just met up with a curling iron. The edge of the binding is slightly frayed. The blackness is undergoing a graying process; it is more black with gray spotches than it is just black- like my grandpa's hair. With the book closed, I can see the pages in between the front and back covers. They are uneven. I run my finger along the uneven, yellowed pages, feeling the texture of the book. I am in love with this book and I have not even opened it yet. It has texture and substance. It is interesting.
I open up the book. The words aren't typed in what we know as Times New Roman, but they are typed in what I know as Courier New. Intriguing. I continue to look at it. There are blue lines under the text and words written in the margins. I turn the page over and feel the back- I can feel the lines and words! The handwritting is nice, but the letters are slurred togethor. Sort of like a combination between print and cursive- the sort of combination that many people resort to when writing by hand in a hurry. There are many phrases here and there that are underlined. Many little phrases written off to the side. Circles around some words. Sometimes the lines turn from being straight to being squiggly. Sometimes the circles take on the shape of boxes. They all form a sort of jungle-gym, and I can feel them embossed on the other side of the page. I close my eyes and run my fingers across these embossed markings. I pretend that I am blind. However, I realize, If I were really blind, I would actually understand what I'm feeling. I then wonder, Why are these things underlined and drawn on? What makes that phrase so important, and that one ignored?
I lean closer to the book, I don't remember why, I just did. And then I discover the best part of old books. I lean in. Breath in. There it is. The loveliest smell in the whole world. It is a deep, warm smell. Strong like perfume. I think of the color brown. And of pot-pouri. It is a heavy smell. I smell the book, and then an army of molecules came surging towards me, ready to both please and overwhelm my olfactory senses. My eyes are closed. I take another breath- deep and slow, filling my diaphragm and then lungs with the savory scent. I want to read this book. I want to know what it has to say. And with that, I hopelessly dive into this world of books. I've fallen in love, and can't climb out of love. Nor do I want to.
That thought- I want to know what [this book] has to say- has influenced my reading. Various qualities of a book attract my initial attention. Those qualities can vary from the smell, the cover drawing, the title, the summary, the opinion of others... However, what secures my attention is when a deep curiosity is aroused. I want to know how Mr. Darcy and Lizzy fall in love. I go crazy trying to figure out what secret Mr. Rochester is hiding from Jane. Mr. DeWinter from Mrs. DeWinter. I pull my hair out wondering how it is that the little strings drawn on the cover are (theoretically) the basis of our universe. Once I have this yearning curiosity that makes my soul feel like it will be wrenched out if I don't satisfy it, well, that's when I pick up a book. And don't put it down. Until that curiosity is satisfied.
At the age of five (maybe four, maybe six), I had my baby blanket tied around my neck. It used to be pink, but is worn now, so much, to the point that it is white. I ran back and forth in the apartment with Baby Bear, my beloved panda bear who had gone everywhere with me since the age of six months (he would even be a princess with me a couple of halloweens later). I was a superhero. I was saving the world from... who knows what (I certainly don't remember)? And what did I have in my hand? The Random-House French Dictionary. Pocket sized.
"Mom, how do you say 'cat' in French?"
"Look it up."
Do you hear that sound? The fervent flipping of pages? It comes only when one seeks desperately for that one place where the answer to the world's biggest question lies (at the very least, the answer for this very moment). "'castor, casuel, catalogue, cataracte..." (I butcher those words) "Mom! There's no cat!" I'm complaining; whining.
Mom glances up from the kitchen counter, and looks at me. She takes into account where in the book I am looking, and the words that came out of my young mouth. "You're looking in the wrong section. You're in French to English, not English to French. You need to go to the back of the book."
So I faithfully travel to the farther back pages. Categorical- it must be on this page. "castaway- n. naufrage m., rjete m." Nope, not this one. "castigate- bv. chatier, punir." Still not the right one. Am I ever going to find it? "castle..castoff.. casua... casualties... cat! here it is!!"
" Okay, good job. What's the word?"
"... chat?..." I pronounce this like the english word 'chat' which means 'to talk informally'.
Mom chuckles a bit. "Not quite. Almost. In French it's pronounced 'shot'".
"oh... wait, so cats are shots? That doesn't make sense! Poor kitties!"
Despite the fact that cats and shots are synonymous in French (which is absolutely awful), I walked around with that book, learning the language, one word at time. (Until I stopped learnng and forgot it all.) Not that I ever learned very much, but the French dictionary captured my attention, and retained it, making me wonder, "how do I say such-and-such in French?" And with that, I continued to wonder what a book contained, Do I care about what's in that book? Is it interesting? If it is, I can probably learn from it! French began my introduction to non-fiction books.
Nowadays, when I read non-fiction, it ranges from american sign language to physics. I have a book by Stephen Hawking on my bookshelf. Another two by Brian Greene- these two are about string theory- the theory that may just unite general relativity and quantum mechanics. I have a book which discusses the nature/nurture debate. Another book in which a journalist chronicles a man's love for his brother, who has become sick, and whose life must be saved. Another book which is the story of an adult man who finally develops language. ASL dictionaries; Swahili phrasebook; Spanish books; The Book of Mormon in six different languages; German. I have a Keep It Simple Stupid guide to photography. I have the Student's Handbook, which technically belongs to my whole family, but is under the care of me. I have drawing books. Various novels... and so forth.
I peer tutor in the developmentally disabled (DD) department at Kentwood High School. I really enjoy this. The teenagers there are, overall, delightful, wonderful people who are happy with their lot in life. I hear the teachers talking about something having to do with Autism, or Down's Syndrome, or teaching methods, and I get curious. "What is ______?" They give me an answer, but I still have questions. I write down whatever it is I wonder about, and then by the time I am home, I log online and head to Google. From there I google the term, and learn about it. I have a new curiosity, and I will not stop reading till that hunger is satisfied! This process of looking up things which I don't know has stemmed from my initial curiosity and love for books. When "I don't know" is my answer (and I care to get the real one), I head to the written word of what it is my question is about. It's simple. I get the feedback.
Aside from constantly learning from the DD teenagers, I also am presented with a greater perspective. Reading has always come easily to me, and often I forget that for others it is much, much more difficult to read and get enjoyment out of it. I often wonder, if I couldn't read as well, would I enjoy it? Would it hold the same feeling of captivation for me as it does now? I think it might. I see these awesome teenagers struggle to read (some especially more than others), and I think to myself, that would suck. But then someone finally gets through whatever it is he or she is reading, and it is such a happy event. Finished! Triumphed! At those moments I realize that I have that exact same feeling with reading. My little sister just about has a party when she finishes a Winnie-the-Pooh book. I feel the exact same way when I finish a Jane Austen book. Finding out what a book has to say can result in happiness and self-satisfaction- no matter what book it is or what reading level it is geared towards. Whether it has that new book smell with glossy pages, or if it is yellow and smells of pot-pouri. It matters not. I am determined to be happy- because I can read, and in turn, can continue to learn.
20 October 2006
HOMECOMING- Part I
HOMECOMING- PART I
setting- at home
So, the rest of my entries have been a bit more constructive, essay-formatted. This one is a synapsis of Homecoming. I think I'll tell it in narrative form (plus, if I make it long enough it can count as a freewrite for my Engl 110 class!). But I might switch. We'll just have to wait and see.
Well, I have a gorgeous dress. I really do. It's dark blue at the top and bottom, but then has a gradiant to the middle where it is this lighter blue. Last Saturday morning my mom got out the sewing machine- this black thing that was given her from my grandma (and will be passed down to me), and was made probably around 1950. This sewing machine, like so many elderly people, is finicky. Some days (this is what my mother tells me, by the way. I wouldn't know any of this without the information from her, considering I'm not the one that sews) it decides to be a kind, lovely sewing machine, while others it decides to be the most stubborn piece of antique junk. Yesterday it was junk. So what did my mom do? She hand-sewed sleeves onto my dress. You see, my dress had no sleeves, which isn't such a good thing because it's not entirely modest, and I prefer by a far stretch modest dresses.
Getting ready, I was going back and forth between actually getting ready and studying for my psychology class.
So finally J_____ and K____ (names have been erased to protect the innocent) show up. K____ and my mom are best friends, so it's been funny getting ready for homecoming because some of it has been K____ asking me, "so, what color do you want your corsage to be?" and "oh! Your dress looks so pretty!" (this is when she saw it) "J____________ has a tie that is that'll match it perfectly!"
Oh, by the way, there is a history here, between J____ and myself. Would you like to hear it?
The Creepy Shrek Moment
I've known J____ for a very long time- since he was that kid sitting in the back of the primary room, tilting his chair back on two legs and ending the "Hello, hello we welcome you today" song with "good-bye". Our mothers (when they were both single) would attend the singles' dances togethor, so I would usually go over to K____'s house where C____ (her second to youngest child) would babysit J____ and me.
I had a crush on him. I was about 11 or 12 years old at the time, putting him at the age of 12 or 13. We were sitting on the couch, he on one side and myself comfortably seated on the other. We happened to be watching Shrek at the time. He started to move over. Just gradually, mind you, but he still started to move, about an inch at a time, every time bringing him closer towards me. Considering my age and naivete, I had no idea what to do. So I sat there and felt uncomfortable. He continued to close in. I felt like a deer being hunted, and moved an inch closer to the other side of the couch- away from him. This repeated. A few times. Until I was against the arm of the couch, and J____ was right by my side. He yawns. Stretches. And his left arm finds its way to the back of the couch. Behind my head. I tense. And I am scared.
Concerning what comes next in the story, I always have to ask myself- Did this happen? Did it really happen? The image is so blurry, I can barely tell. Why is this sole part of the video in my mind so blurry? This section is blurry because after that night I decided I didn't want to remember. Maybe it didn't even happen... I told myself. It couldn't have... I must have imagined it. Well, here's what couldn't have happened. Here's what I can't remember. Here's what I imagined happening:
My body stiff and straight like a pole, my heart is skipping madly. He leans towards my ear. And then everything gets fuzzy, like the whole picture in my head has been covered by gray clouds- distorting the image; and a windstorm is raging in the background- a deafening sound which dwarfs all other sounds. J____ whispers loudly- I love you. I am stunned. I sit in shock. And then-
Off the couch, I leap!! I dart across the room, arriving at my bag. Into the bag I dive, searching frantically for my book to read. To distract. I think, oh no, he's going to like me more because I'm reading and he'll think it's soo hot! I find my book and am immediately buried in it.
The rest of that evening was spent in discomfort. After the event, I avoided J____. He also became labeled as "Creepy-Shrek Dude". What a horrible reputation that would be to have.
Sweatpants
Is it promising when your date and his mother show up, and he is wearing sweatpants? Sweatpants which are baggy at the hip area (emphasizing his wonderfully curvy shape... oh, just kidding- he's not curvy) and have the bottoms scrunched up so the pants actually end a few inches about his ankles? And then there's the gym socks. With well-worn tennis shoes to top off the ensemble. At least his casual shirt is nice, I thought to myself.
Mom and I are standing on the doorstep, greeting K____ and J____ as they step out of the car, grab their things, and head up to the entrance. J____ gets there first. "Hi, J____! Long time no see!"
"Hey, Cassanndre! How are you?" And a nice, big hug. I hadn't been sure of what to expect- hug? handshake? I would have been more comfortable with a handshake. But it was a friendly hug from the side, and it reminded me of the hugs counselors gave at EFY. He stood there for a quick moment, his arm around me (and me feeling a little bit awkward), catching up.
Curling Iron, Mascara, and Time
At this moment, I am wearing jeans and a shirt, with my hair straight down. My bangs have just been trimmed by my mom, my make-up begun (but not finished). Still a lot left to do. In a very little time. J____ heads to the bathroom with his hair gel, shoes, comb, and older brother's suit in hand. I head to my bedroom. Mom is right behind me.
Then the curling fest is initiated. Top layer of hair is pinned up. Bottom layer combed and sprayed and curled; and curled and sprayed. Ten minutes later, second layer combed, curled, and sprayed.
Then an unexpected call is heralded from my littlest sister. "Cassanndre!! A bunch of people are here and they're all dressed up fancy!!"
"What?!!" What could she be talking about? Did Trevor and Coral, Christine and Tyler come for J____ and me? We hadn't planned that! Well, we actually hadn't planned anything having to do with transportation, but that was beside the point. Are they late for their pictures? "Mom...? What do we do?"
So Mom heads out to greet them, and introduce. From my bedroom I can hear, "Hi everyone! Oh, wow! You all look so nice! This is J____ and K____. Come on in, Cassanndre's just finishing up. J____, this is Trevor (not Stefan, right?), Coral, Tyler, and Christine." And they all start socializing. I make use of this time. Make-up: eyeshadow is finished. Chapstick is found. Mom comes back.
Ten more minutes, and the hair is all done. Bangs straightened with a slight curl. Hair at the sides pinned up. Hair in the back teased just a bit. Final touches. More hair spray. Perfume. Then the dress. Over my head. Mom zips it up and fastens the fastener. Put on shoes. So much for nail polish. Necklace and earrings. Mirror check. Tickets? There they are. ASB card? Where is it?! I check my wallet. Not there. Search around my room frantically. No, Mom, please stay with me, I don't want to come out by myself. No, Mom, I already looked there. What? It's in my wallet? I already looked there... Thank you. Am I ready? Mental Checklist: Hair, good. Make-up, yes, nice. Shoes? yes. Dress, yes. Tickets and ASB? Yes. Cell-phone? J____ has one. Anything else, Mom? Okay. No, you go out first.
The corsage, the bootineer (how do you spell that word?!), and we all line up for some pictures. Mom accidentally got a couple where I made a funny face, but those were deleted. Maybe I'll upload 'em with this story. Or maybe not.
Coming up next- pictures, dinner, homecoming, stake dance, and denny's.
setting- at home
So, the rest of my entries have been a bit more constructive, essay-formatted. This one is a synapsis of Homecoming. I think I'll tell it in narrative form (plus, if I make it long enough it can count as a freewrite for my Engl 110 class!). But I might switch. We'll just have to wait and see.
Well, I have a gorgeous dress. I really do. It's dark blue at the top and bottom, but then has a gradiant to the middle where it is this lighter blue. Last Saturday morning my mom got out the sewing machine- this black thing that was given her from my grandma (and will be passed down to me), and was made probably around 1950. This sewing machine, like so many elderly people, is finicky. Some days (this is what my mother tells me, by the way. I wouldn't know any of this without the information from her, considering I'm not the one that sews) it decides to be a kind, lovely sewing machine, while others it decides to be the most stubborn piece of antique junk. Yesterday it was junk. So what did my mom do? She hand-sewed sleeves onto my dress. You see, my dress had no sleeves, which isn't such a good thing because it's not entirely modest, and I prefer by a far stretch modest dresses.
Getting ready, I was going back and forth between actually getting ready and studying for my psychology class.
So finally J_____ and K____ (names have been erased to protect the innocent) show up. K____ and my mom are best friends, so it's been funny getting ready for homecoming because some of it has been K____ asking me, "so, what color do you want your corsage to be?" and "oh! Your dress looks so pretty!" (this is when she saw it) "J____________ has a tie that is that'll match it perfectly!"
Oh, by the way, there is a history here, between J____ and myself. Would you like to hear it?
The Creepy Shrek Moment
I've known J____ for a very long time- since he was that kid sitting in the back of the primary room, tilting his chair back on two legs and ending the "Hello, hello we welcome you today" song with "good-bye". Our mothers (when they were both single) would attend the singles' dances togethor, so I would usually go over to K____'s house where C____ (her second to youngest child) would babysit J____ and me.
I had a crush on him. I was about 11 or 12 years old at the time, putting him at the age of 12 or 13. We were sitting on the couch, he on one side and myself comfortably seated on the other. We happened to be watching Shrek at the time. He started to move over. Just gradually, mind you, but he still started to move, about an inch at a time, every time bringing him closer towards me. Considering my age and naivete, I had no idea what to do. So I sat there and felt uncomfortable. He continued to close in. I felt like a deer being hunted, and moved an inch closer to the other side of the couch- away from him. This repeated. A few times. Until I was against the arm of the couch, and J____ was right by my side. He yawns. Stretches. And his left arm finds its way to the back of the couch. Behind my head. I tense. And I am scared.
Concerning what comes next in the story, I always have to ask myself- Did this happen? Did it really happen? The image is so blurry, I can barely tell. Why is this sole part of the video in my mind so blurry? This section is blurry because after that night I decided I didn't want to remember. Maybe it didn't even happen... I told myself. It couldn't have... I must have imagined it. Well, here's what couldn't have happened. Here's what I can't remember. Here's what I imagined happening:
My body stiff and straight like a pole, my heart is skipping madly. He leans towards my ear. And then everything gets fuzzy, like the whole picture in my head has been covered by gray clouds- distorting the image; and a windstorm is raging in the background- a deafening sound which dwarfs all other sounds. J____ whispers loudly- I love you. I am stunned. I sit in shock. And then-
Off the couch, I leap!! I dart across the room, arriving at my bag. Into the bag I dive, searching frantically for my book to read. To distract. I think, oh no, he's going to like me more because I'm reading and he'll think it's soo hot! I find my book and am immediately buried in it.
The rest of that evening was spent in discomfort. After the event, I avoided J____. He also became labeled as "Creepy-Shrek Dude". What a horrible reputation that would be to have.
Sweatpants
Is it promising when your date and his mother show up, and he is wearing sweatpants? Sweatpants which are baggy at the hip area (emphasizing his wonderfully curvy shape... oh, just kidding- he's not curvy) and have the bottoms scrunched up so the pants actually end a few inches about his ankles? And then there's the gym socks. With well-worn tennis shoes to top off the ensemble. At least his casual shirt is nice, I thought to myself.
Mom and I are standing on the doorstep, greeting K____ and J____ as they step out of the car, grab their things, and head up to the entrance. J____ gets there first. "Hi, J____! Long time no see!"
"Hey, Cassanndre! How are you?" And a nice, big hug. I hadn't been sure of what to expect- hug? handshake? I would have been more comfortable with a handshake. But it was a friendly hug from the side, and it reminded me of the hugs counselors gave at EFY. He stood there for a quick moment, his arm around me (and me feeling a little bit awkward), catching up.
Curling Iron, Mascara, and Time
At this moment, I am wearing jeans and a shirt, with my hair straight down. My bangs have just been trimmed by my mom, my make-up begun (but not finished). Still a lot left to do. In a very little time. J____ heads to the bathroom with his hair gel, shoes, comb, and older brother's suit in hand. I head to my bedroom. Mom is right behind me.
Then the curling fest is initiated. Top layer of hair is pinned up. Bottom layer combed and sprayed and curled; and curled and sprayed. Ten minutes later, second layer combed, curled, and sprayed.
Then an unexpected call is heralded from my littlest sister. "Cassanndre!! A bunch of people are here and they're all dressed up fancy!!"
"What?!!" What could she be talking about? Did Trevor and Coral, Christine and Tyler come for J____ and me? We hadn't planned that! Well, we actually hadn't planned anything having to do with transportation, but that was beside the point. Are they late for their pictures? "Mom...? What do we do?"
So Mom heads out to greet them, and introduce. From my bedroom I can hear, "Hi everyone! Oh, wow! You all look so nice! This is J____ and K____. Come on in, Cassanndre's just finishing up. J____, this is Trevor (not Stefan, right?), Coral, Tyler, and Christine." And they all start socializing. I make use of this time. Make-up: eyeshadow is finished. Chapstick is found. Mom comes back.
Ten more minutes, and the hair is all done. Bangs straightened with a slight curl. Hair at the sides pinned up. Hair in the back teased just a bit. Final touches. More hair spray. Perfume. Then the dress. Over my head. Mom zips it up and fastens the fastener. Put on shoes. So much for nail polish. Necklace and earrings. Mirror check. Tickets? There they are. ASB card? Where is it?! I check my wallet. Not there. Search around my room frantically. No, Mom, please stay with me, I don't want to come out by myself. No, Mom, I already looked there. What? It's in my wallet? I already looked there... Thank you. Am I ready? Mental Checklist: Hair, good. Make-up, yes, nice. Shoes? yes. Dress, yes. Tickets and ASB? Yes. Cell-phone? J____ has one. Anything else, Mom? Okay. No, you go out first.
The corsage, the bootineer (how do you spell that word?!), and we all line up for some pictures. Mom accidentally got a couple where I made a funny face, but those were deleted. Maybe I'll upload 'em with this story. Or maybe not.
Coming up next- pictures, dinner, homecoming, stake dance, and denny's.
18 October 2006
language
"If no language is learned by adulthood, one will never be learned"
That is included in the study guide for chapter 3 of my psych 100 class. I disagree. Wholeheartedly. I don't care what the research says- it's not impossible. It may be statistically unlikely, nearly impossible, or an unbelievable challenge for both the language-less adult and the educator. I read a book about a man who was born deaf and raised in Mexico. He never learned a language, and at about age 30, he finally began to learn one. It was an extremely difficult journey for him, but he did, however, eventually learn american sign language. The difficult connection for him at first was just understanding that there are words for certain ideas. That that thing right in front of him has a name. What's a name? That's what he had to learn first. And once he learned what a name was, his whole world began to open, and he began to learn language. What a wonderful story. Don't you think? I think so.
I disagree with that statement because it is contrary to what I believe. I believe in miracles, and I believe that if it is God's will, then an adult of any age can learn language- a first language. It may be difficult, but it is possible.
Language is an amazing thing, don't you think? I've always been fascinated by it. You see, communication is at the core of everything in this world. Take, for example, your neurons. A message recieved by the dendrites, processed by the cell body, and then sent along the axons and finally delivered at the terminal branches of the axons. This whole process is merely communication. Sure, it's not the same type of communication that we humans employ between one another, it's an electrochemical communication, but it is communication nonetheless. Our whole body operates on conversations similar to this one.
In fact, the whole world is just one big conversation. Really, it's true. Chlorophyll, for example, and the sun (am I getting my facts straight or am I confusing my biology just a bit?)- I mean, the sun's rays are communicated to the plant, which (by its chlorophyll) "hears" the sun and accepts the message, internalizing this message for its benefit.
That is how life is. Every aspect of life is a conversation, a dialogue. Genes, for example. We just have to figure out the genetic language in order to have a fluent conversation with our genes and thereby understand them better. I am currently communicating with my computer- by giving it input through the keyboard. Though, the keyboard isn't a very good conversationalist- he just digests what I have to say and then spits it out- giving me the same thing I put in, but in a different form.
I think it would be fun to help bring language to a language-less person. Can you imagine life without language? Life without having a name for everything? Walking at school and not thinking, "locker... hallway... boy... book... girl... classroom... chair... water... teacher..."? What a life!! To recognize and yet not have a name, I most certainly cannot imagine living like that. It would be awful. It really would.
I really think sign languages are a blessing from God for some of his language-less children. I wonder about kids like F____, T____, and D_____. Will they ever learn language? Will D____'s sentence mostly comprise of "yes, no, maybe" and other little grunts? Will F____ ever use a realy word? Will Jake ever learn to speak? Or at least read. how lovely would that be, to be able to open and rad a book after years of really really wanting to.
Well, that's one page. Good night- it's 11:28 and I'm tired. Tomorrow I get to listen to people from the UW. That should be interesting. It just means that I have to skip going to Russell Ridge. I should work on my rough draft tomorrow; and read some history, considering unit two is due on friday and i haven't done anything at all about it... grr... History. I don't like that stuff. And Psychology, well, I should just study, so I get better than a 78.181818....% next time. Blech. Okay, well, good night now!
Oh, PS- Jon F called me right in the middle of driver's ed! And of course I forgot to turn the phone off, so here comes the hokey pokey... "whoops... I say quietly, hoping no one notices. Well now, good night.
That is included in the study guide for chapter 3 of my psych 100 class. I disagree. Wholeheartedly. I don't care what the research says- it's not impossible. It may be statistically unlikely, nearly impossible, or an unbelievable challenge for both the language-less adult and the educator. I read a book about a man who was born deaf and raised in Mexico. He never learned a language, and at about age 30, he finally began to learn one. It was an extremely difficult journey for him, but he did, however, eventually learn american sign language. The difficult connection for him at first was just understanding that there are words for certain ideas. That that thing right in front of him has a name. What's a name? That's what he had to learn first. And once he learned what a name was, his whole world began to open, and he began to learn language. What a wonderful story. Don't you think? I think so.
I disagree with that statement because it is contrary to what I believe. I believe in miracles, and I believe that if it is God's will, then an adult of any age can learn language- a first language. It may be difficult, but it is possible.
Language is an amazing thing, don't you think? I've always been fascinated by it. You see, communication is at the core of everything in this world. Take, for example, your neurons. A message recieved by the dendrites, processed by the cell body, and then sent along the axons and finally delivered at the terminal branches of the axons. This whole process is merely communication. Sure, it's not the same type of communication that we humans employ between one another, it's an electrochemical communication, but it is communication nonetheless. Our whole body operates on conversations similar to this one.
In fact, the whole world is just one big conversation. Really, it's true. Chlorophyll, for example, and the sun (am I getting my facts straight or am I confusing my biology just a bit?)- I mean, the sun's rays are communicated to the plant, which (by its chlorophyll) "hears" the sun and accepts the message, internalizing this message for its benefit.
That is how life is. Every aspect of life is a conversation, a dialogue. Genes, for example. We just have to figure out the genetic language in order to have a fluent conversation with our genes and thereby understand them better. I am currently communicating with my computer- by giving it input through the keyboard. Though, the keyboard isn't a very good conversationalist- he just digests what I have to say and then spits it out- giving me the same thing I put in, but in a different form.
I think it would be fun to help bring language to a language-less person. Can you imagine life without language? Life without having a name for everything? Walking at school and not thinking, "locker... hallway... boy... book... girl... classroom... chair... water... teacher..."? What a life!! To recognize and yet not have a name, I most certainly cannot imagine living like that. It would be awful. It really would.
I really think sign languages are a blessing from God for some of his language-less children. I wonder about kids like F____, T____, and D_____. Will they ever learn language? Will D____'s sentence mostly comprise of "yes, no, maybe" and other little grunts? Will F____ ever use a realy word? Will Jake ever learn to speak? Or at least read. how lovely would that be, to be able to open and rad a book after years of really really wanting to.
Well, that's one page. Good night- it's 11:28 and I'm tired. Tomorrow I get to listen to people from the UW. That should be interesting. It just means that I have to skip going to Russell Ridge. I should work on my rough draft tomorrow; and read some history, considering unit two is due on friday and i haven't done anything at all about it... grr... History. I don't like that stuff. And Psychology, well, I should just study, so I get better than a 78.181818....% next time. Blech. Okay, well, good night now!
Oh, PS- Jon F called me right in the middle of driver's ed! And of course I forgot to turn the phone off, so here comes the hokey pokey... "whoops... I say quietly, hoping no one notices. Well now, good night.
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