GRAF #20

      I recently took the time to sit back and look at the work I had done over this semester.  When the course first started my mind was full of creativity and stories of myself that I intended to share, but it had been years since I had even attempted to put one sentence down on paper.  My nerves were getting the best of me.  I was over thinking, and under writing.  As the course went on I grew faith in myself.  The scattered mess that had been in my brain for the past six years was finally bursting out of my fingertips.   Though I think I still need some work on my English skills, I’ve noticed an improvement in myself over the past three months.  I’ve noticed a better flow in my writing.  I know it isn’t perfect, but I feel more like a vinyl record with a few static spots, rather than a CD that skips in every song. I’ve succeeded the standards I held for myself.  The comments you (John Goldfine) provided on each paper gave me the strength to know my work is worthy of sharing.  I will continue to take the techniques I’ve learned and use them throughout the rest of my schooling.  I will let my hands blabber about until my mind catches something they drop.  I’ve truly enjoyed this course, I’ve truly enjoyed your feedback, and I truly wish this was the only class I had to take for the next 4 years.

Essay #10 [Make up timed essay:Effect]

     The fear that comes with public speaking is unlike any other fear to be experienced.  My nerves bundle into one giant ball and I wait for it to explode.  I can imagine myself bursting into a heap of blood and guts all forming the words I am supposed to say.  With that in mind, the effect that public speaking has on me is equal to the effect a bomb would have on any cartoon character.  My body language is fidgety, my speech is slurred or stuttered, and the overall discomfort I feel is a lasting effect, even when I have finished.

     Some people have a natural knack for speaking to the public.  Unlike them, the first effect it has on me is the uncontrollable urge to fidget.  I want to constantly move.  It may be a rock back and forth, as if I should be in a strait jacket conversing with my invisible friend.  The one that never fails me is playing with my hands.  When I was younger I used to keep them in my mouth. As time passed I learned it’s easier to speak if they aren’t blocking my words.  I play with my jewelry, hoping if I keep turning my ring I may lose a finger and attempt this humiliation another day.  I try holding my hands hostage with each other.  Somehow it turns into a battle, and I have to separate them to my sides.  No matter how I try, holding still while speaking to the public is not easily achieved.

     Another effect that speaking in public has on me is my speaking itself.  If I were to have a regular conversation, I would say I’m well-articulated.  Sure, I have a slight Maine accent, but I can speak without sounding like a complete redneck.  That all changes when I’m placed in front of a crowd. At first I stutter and skip my words.  My minds trying to control my body, so the concentration on what I should be saying is minimal. Then I just start talking really fast.  One sentence becomes part of another and before you know it I’m halfway through my speech. So now slow it down.  My Maine accent becomes so thick, you couldn’t cut it with a knife.  Its not until I reach my last sentence that my speech is clear and it’s the best-spoken sentence of the entire thing.

       The last effect I have is just overall discomfort.  I’m sweaty, I’m nervous, I’m fighting with myself.  My clothes are all of a sudden too tight or clinging in the wrong places.  I’m worrying about the crowd. Should I picture them naked?  Ew.  Maybe I don’t want to do that.  Even after I’ve spit out that last sentence of my torturing experience, the discomfort is still there.  I know what my downfalls are, I can be sure everyone else saw them too. It’s a feeling that can’t be fixed until I’ve left the vicinity, and am only left with my own judgment.

     I have to admit, it’s been a while since I’ve had to speak publically.  I would have thought that after working in the public for 8 years the effect would have subsided.  I also figured being a bartender would help.  Speaking with strangers on a daily basis should be considered good practice for public speaking, especially when the majority of them are asshole.  However, I still find myself playing with my hands, or tossing a rag around.  The only sentence that I can speak well is “Can I get you a drink?” Let me not forget the discomfort of building up the courage for the initial “Hello.”  The effects are relentless, but I’m hoping by the time I have achieved my future career of teaching, I will have the skills to speak with grace.

Essay #9 [Timed Process]

     The connection that is possible between a dog and its owner is incredible.  I have never loved an animal so much.  I have a pit bull rotti mix, named Seven, and she holds my heart.  She listens, she snuggles, she cheers me up when I’m feeling low.  When I was on my way to pick her out of a litter of puppies, I had no idea she would become so dear to me.  The process of choosing her, and knowing she would be a good dog however was obvious to me.  When looking at a litter of puppies I first look at what colors and size they are.  Then I watch how they act.  Lastly I see how they interact with me.

     The first step in picking out my puppy was choosing one I liked the looks of.  Of course all puppies are cute.  If I had the choice I would have taken the entire batch home.  I walked into the apartment that I was buying my new baby from and saw the mess of puppies spread out in the living room.  Most of them were just plain brown.  I wanted one that was unique.  I noticed the smallest puppy first.  She had little fat rolls on her butt.  Her face was colored in a tan mask, and her chest in a vest of the same color. Her eyes were hazel while the others were that dog eye brown as I call it.  She was only 8 weeks old, but her colors made her look like an old woman.  I instantly drew my attention to her.  The first step was done and I moved on to the next.

     The second step in choosing a puppy was watching how they acted.  The rebellious ones were pouncing on the other puppies, and chewing on their own tails. Adorable yes, but I assumed it would take a lot more training.  Some were more interested in people, bouncing between me and the woman who owned them.  The runty, old looking puppy I chose sat under the couch with her face barely sticking out.  She observed the other dogs.  She didn’t care to partake in the playing, but seemed content in her place.  Watching her eyes just shift back and forth and her little pink nose twitch as she watched all the action pulled my heart strings.  This had to be my puppy.  So I move on to the last step of choosing my puppy.

     The last step in my process was seeing how she would interact with me.  She wasn’t much of a social butterfly among the other puppies.  She also wasn’t one that rushed up to greet me.  Yet she drew my attention in the first two steps, so I leaned down to her level.  She glanced at me, and then went back to viewing the other pups.  I beckoned her with kissy noises.  “Come here baby girl.  It’s okay.”  She slowly emerged from under the couch, approaching with caution.  I placed my hand on her head and pet her.  She instantly showed a sign of relief.  She looked up at me as I continued petting her.  That moment pulled those last strings, and I knew this would be my new family member.

      After I finished my process of picking Seven out, I took her home.  She rode on my lap the entire way, and a bond was formed which will last until the very last day we will have together.  Now that she’s grown, her coloring doesn’t make her look old.  She is more interactive with other dogs and people, but doesn’t mind sitting back and observing either.  She is by my side all times when she is with me.  Rather it’s fighting over space on the couch, or taking a swim in the summer, she’s right there.  I couldn’t have picked out a better dog than my sweet Seven.

Essay #8 Revised [Effect]

“You selfish, ignorant pig!” This man was supposed to be honest, and loyal to me.  This was a few years ago now, but at the time I had felt us slipping apart for months.  I never thought he was going to stoop to such a low level.  We were almost to our 3 year anniversary, and he had been making plans, as well as other things, with another woman while I was working my ass off every day.  He had cheated, and didn’t have the guts to just say it.  I packed my things never to look back again.  However, the effect of his dishonesty was a struggle for me to overcome.  He effected my ability to trust, my bank account, and how I would plan my future.

When I was younger I always had a trust in people.  They then had the choice to either break it or keep it.  It wasn’t until I was put through the challenge of being cheated on when my ability to trust was effected.   He always preached honesty to me, but after months of this abnormal feeling I found the proof to my biggest worry.  A private message showed me I wasn’t his only girl. He failed to practice what he preached.  For many months, years even I was unable to have trust in people.  I always had doubt in people.  To this day I still keep my guard up.  The slightest gestures or words can still put me on the defense.  Gaining my trust is a challenge, but I’m thankful for the few people who have earned it.  I like to think my chances of getting hurt again are now slim to none.

Before I moved out, but after I gained my suspicions of the cheating, I had decided to quit my job.  I was hoping to spend more time with my boyfriend and work on us.  However it didn’t work out that way.  After I had quit my job I used what was left in my bank account to make him happy.  He was a raging alcoholic and I thought if I was to keep him I should support his habit.  Booze made him happy, so if I provided it I could be part of that happiness.  This effected my bank account greatly.  I had spent months saving up.  I only had 1500 dollars saved, but it took me a long time to get there.  Before I knew it I was running low.  After a month of being jobless, and spending over 1000 dollars, I had enough.  Where I live finding a new job isn’t an easy task.  I gave up trying to buy his love, and worked on earning my own.

Lastly, he effected how I was going to plan my future.  At the time, he was my future.  I had planned on living with him, working until I was ready to go back to school, and eventually getting married and being together until he most likely killed himself by drinking too much. Or ya know, we lived happily ever after.  After I moved out I had no place to go but back to my parents.  I didn’t know what to do.  How was I supposed to just pick myself up after being treated so horrible?  I had forgotten and lost the person that I was.  I spent probably three months wandering around aimlessly in my head.  Then one day I woke up and it was clear.  I was moping over someone useless.  I was finally able to better myself without worrying about this man holding me back.  I got another job, I made new friends, and life finally was better.  This was probably the most positive effect he could have done.

Looking back I can see that his actions were negative.  No one deserves the pain of seeing the person you love be with another.  The initial effect it had one me wasn’t good, but it lead to something great.  I now know who to give my trust to.  I have been saving money, and spending it more cautiously.  My future isn’t based around someone else.  His cheating lead to my success for finding a new job that I love, having money for emergencies and a little fun, finding a trustworthy man, and starting college again.  Not everyone can be so lucky to get so much good out of a bad experience.  I’m proud to say I’m one of the few.

Essay #8 [Effect]

“You selfish, ignorant pig!” This man was supposed to be honest, and loyal to me.  This was 6 years ago now, but at the time I had felt us slipping apart for months.  I never thought he would stoop to such a low level.  We were almost to our 3 year mark, and he had been making plans, as well as other things, with another woman while I was working my ass off every day.  He cheated, and didn’t have the guts to just say it.  I packed my things never to look back again.  However, the effect of his dishonesty was a struggle for me to overcome.  He effected my ability to trust, my bank account, and how I would plan my future.

I always had a trust in people.  They then had the choice to either break it or keep it.  After I had started a new full time job, an old friend of my now ex’s came along.  We got along great and before I knew it I had a new friend.  Little did I know that while I was at work, they were busy rekindling their lost “friendship”.  Before I knew it I could see a change my him.  He was less attentive to me.  When the three of us would hang out I was the third wheel.  Finally, I had enough of fighting for his love.  It wasn’t until after I moved out that this man grew some balls and told me that they had been planning to be together for a while.  His lack of earlier communication caused me to lose all trust in not just him, but people in general.  Even now, I keep up my guard until someone can show me they are trust worthy.

Before I moved out, but after I gained my suspicions, I had decided to quit my job.  I was hoping to spend more time with him and work on us.  However it didn’t work out that way.  After I had quit my job I used what was left in my bank account to make him happy.  He was a raging alcoholic and I thought if I was to keep him I should support his habit.  Booze made him happy, so if I provided it I could be part of that happiness.  This effected my bank account greatly.  I had spent months saving up.  I only had 1500 dollars saved, but it took me a long time to get there.  Before I knew it I was running low.  After a month of being jobless, and spending over 1000 out of that 1500, I had enough.  Where I live finding a new job isn’t an easy task.  I gave up trying to buy his love, and worked on earning my own.

Lastly, he effected how I was going to plan my future.  At the time, he was my future.  I had planned on living with him, working until I was ready to go back to school, and eventually getting married and being together until he most likely killed himself by drinking too much. Or ya know, we lived happily ever after.  After I moved out I had no place to go but back to my parents.  I didn’t know what to do.  How was I supposed to just pick myself up after being treated so horrible?  I had forgotten and lost the person that I was.  I spent probably three months wandering around aimlessly in my head.  Then one day I woke up and it was clear.  I was moping over someone useless.  I was finally able to better myself without worrying about this man holding me back.  I got another job, I made new friends, and life finally was better.  This was probably the most positive thing he could have done.

Though at the time his actions effected me negatively, it’s an experience that makes me a better person today.  I am a lot more cautious when it comes to trusting people.  I’ve learned that if someone needs my money to be happy, they aren’t worth it.  I’ve also learned that only I should effect my future.  It’s good to say I’m heading towards a bright one.

Essay #7 [Process]

Smack, smack, smack.  Click.  Ten more minutes.  The sound of an alarm clock is the worst thing that could ever happen to my ears.  It makes me cringe.  So, as you can imagine, I am not a morning person.  It takes a lot before I get out of the morning funk.  I also have a specific process I go through to get past that morning rage.  My fussing and swearing at the clock,  my caffeine and cigarettes, then finally some breakfast brings me around to the happy person I am throughout the rest of the day. 

The first step in my process is battling the alarm clock.  The snooze button is my best friend.  I must hit that thing about 5 times before I drag myself out of bed. Each time I’m woken up by that irritating beep I have unfriendly words for the clock. 9.a.m. “shut up” 9:10 “Piss Off” 9:20 “ASSHOLE” 9:30 “OH FUCK YOU!! I’M GETTING UP!” Then I throw a fit in my blankets.  My legs start flailing forcing the blankets onto the floor, while my arms toss every pillow away from my head.  Damn that irritating clock.  It’s better I take it out on the clock then any poor person who dare cross my path when first waking up.

My next step isn't a healthy one, but I don’t think I could function without my caffeine and nicotine.  After I shower and get dolled up for my day I head to the nearest convenient store.  Yeah I could make coffee, but I like my Monster Java Irish blend.  It’s got enough caffeine to keep me awake all day, and it tastes sweet.  Once I crack open that can I light a cigarette.  Not sure why, but even artificial coffee goes great with a cigarette.  That first breath of chemicals is an instant gratification.  At this point I've forgotten all about the alarm clock, and my brain is finally functioning like a normal human being.

Last thing I need to complete the morning routine is food.  I guess I couldn't call my first meal of the day breakfast, it’s more brunch.  By the time I've finished abusing the clock and had my morning addictions it’s almost noon.  Most people eat their food first, but it upsets my stomach if I go from waking up directly to eating. Luckily breakfast foods are delicious at any time of the day.  I cook myself up two eggs, over easy, and two pieces of toast which I load with butter.  I like to smash the eggs up and dip my toast in the yoke. Of course once I’m full I go back to my step two of the morning process, but now I can get on with my day and no one has to worry about me being as grumpy as I was when I started.

Now I’m ready to handle the rest of my day.  Rather I have to work, or am just relaxing, I wouldn't be able to do either without my morning process.  Maybe someday I’ll be a morning person.  Maybe I’ll finally decide to quit smoking and stop depending on caffeine.  Maybe I’ll even put breakfast first.  Until that happens this is my daily agenda, and I’m sticking to it.

Process Intro

Smack, smack, smack.  Click.  Ten more minutes.  The sound of an alarm clock is the worst thing that could ever happen to my ears.  It makes me cringe.  So, as you can imagine, I am not a morning person.  It takes a lot before I get out of the morning funk.  I also have a specific process I go through to get past that morning rage.  My fussing and swearing at the clock,  my caffeine and cigarettes, then finally some breakfast brings me around to the happy person I am throughout the rest of the day.