Blog 18

In the future I'd like to publish some books of poetry and perhaps a memoir (no, not the one I did for class) if I have the strength to even finish it. I have plenty of poetry, and have published a book in the past. I want to continue writing poetry and publish another book in the future with visual art as well. My writing in the future will be much better than what I did in this class. I can not write about something I am forced to write about, neither can I stick to a time frame, especially at a time when I have a million other things going on in my life and have no time to write. My writing in the future will be much better and you should all look for my name on the shelf in about four years. Thank you, bye!

Blog 17

I was confused as to what to reflect on and I kept changing my mind. I’m used to reflecting on nature in a more poetic way and I didn’t know just how hard it was for me to put all that reflective/metaphorical thinking into plain English. I did it, but it was very short, and I’m not content at all. Also, I realized that I didn’t know what many of the trees were in the woods in that area. I did some research on that, but didn’t feel one hundred percent confident on what I found.

At the time of those runs through the woods, I always thought about Marannie, since when I got to the beach I would always look across the bay and wonder what she was doing. In my poetry I would always compare my feelings to the natural world…the sun, moon, water, fire, earth, air, etc. I’m used to only making these comparisons in very poetic, metaphorical ways, and I was getting stuck trying to put the feelings/comparisons into plain English. This made me want to change my reflection.

Professor Chandler told me that my essay/story wasn’t a nature essay. I didn’t seem to understand why. I was describing an experience I had with nature; I was describing what was around me…I was quite perplexed, which deterred me from even wanting to rework the essay, having no idea as to what to change or what direction to go in. I decided to research more about the New Jersey shore, and the Natives that lived there centuries ago (since I always thought about the Natives when I was in the woods.) But I still felt stuck because I couldn’t come up with a concrete ‘reflection’. I remember always thinking when I was in the woods, about all the people in past years, decades, centuries etc. who have been in these woods, touched the same ground as I was touching then, have walked on the same beach, looked at the same trees, watched the same sunrises. I researched the natives and found out that it was the Lenape Indians who resided in these woods. It always amazed me that I was in the same woods as they were back then.

I’m used to writing in more detail, but with less reflection and letting my reader take what they want from the piece…but for this writing (and all the essays in the class) I had to do more thinking, which only confused me and actually gave me writers’ block. I figured I’d use both my reflections- my love, and my curiosity/amazement of being in the same atmosphere of natives, but in my head, I still doubted that these two ‘ideas’ were even ‘reflections’ at all. I figured, oh well…and continued writing in that direction.

Blog 16

What’s the most important thing that you learned about writing in this course?
I learned that it takes a lot of patience and revision especially when you’re using reflection and are writing for a certain audience. I definitely need to work on that.

What did I learn about writing one of my papers?
I learned how form affects the message of your story. I definitely need to work on that as well.

Which paper was the hardest to write?
I think they were all hard to write. I never seemed to please Professor Chandler; it just seems as though I am no good at developing an obvious focus.

What do I want to say in my reflective essay?
I am reflecting on my Nature Essay. I’m writing about how difficult it is to get across a message/focus/reflection that is easily understood in your own head, to others.

What don't I want to write about?
I don’t want to write about my Literary Journalism piece because I didn’t put as much time into it and didn’t even bother polishing, therefore there isn’t as much to write about.

Blog 15

How did I start?
I tried thinking of the recent times I’ve been surrounded by nature. I thought about the few times I went camping over the summer, but decided to write about my time in the woods earlier than that- back in June when I used to take jogs through the woods by my parent’s house, since I used to do a lot of thinking during those jogs and would perhaps find something more interesting to focus on.

How did you choose your focus?
It was very hard to choose a focus. I wanted to reflect on the love I had for a certain someone. Being in those woods and sitting on the beach at that time of morning always made me think of love. Professor Chandler though, told me that the essay I turned in wasn’t a ‘nature essay’. I didn’t understand why or how to change it into a ‘nature essay’…so I decided to compare more of how the nature that surrounded me related to my emotions at that time, something I always thought about, but was/is easier for me to write in poem form than in essay/story form. So I decided to stick with my focus and to just make more comparisons as to focus more on the nature.

What did I leave out? What did I change? What did I emphasize?
I decided to leave out some of the details at the beginning of the story, where I was describing my journey getting out of bed and down to the woods. It was too detailed and took away from the experience in the woods/beach. I needed to elaborate on my focus, so I added more comparisons, and emphasized more of my emotions and how I saw it relating to the nature around me. I also added in my amazements of all who have passed through these woods before, since that was something else I always thought about at that time. (That in itself may be another focus, but oh well.)

Where did I get stuck and how did I get unstuck?
I got stuck with understanding how to put all of my comparisons that I usually write very poetically into more detailed, easily-understood, complete sentences. But I tried to think over and over in my head how my emotions related to the natural entities that surrounded me, and tried to change up my language a bit.

What were my major revisions?
My major revisions had more to do with my time on the beach b/c that’s when I do most of my reflecting. I added a lot more to the story which made it longer than it had to be, but oh well…I hate feeling like I have to cut myself short.

How did my life (not on the page) affect my writing process?
My life is really affecting my writing process currently. I am unbelievably stressed out, and one thing keeps happening after the other. When I actually have time to sit down, I can’t think. Also, not being able to write what I want to write about, and not in the style I write, and with a certain time frame actually gives me writers’ block. I am getting frustrated with everything. Usually my writing is a lot better, but I usually write for myself…in my own style…and when life isn’t so complicated.

Where and when did I write my best? What time?
Huummm…I don’t think I can answer that question. Usually the only time I have to write is late at night after work. A lot of the time though, that is when I am too tired and have writers’ block. I can’t concentrate and I’m unbelievably stressed out by the days events. I tell myself I’ll do it tomorrow, and then something always goes wrong, the reason I am so behind. Tonight though, things have slowed down a bit and so I am trying to catch up.

How did I use thinking, talking and writing to develop my paper?
I went back to my poems that I wrote during my time on the beach and tried to decide how to word everything differently to be able to use it in my story. I asked my friends and family if what I was saying made sense to them. My mother was confused as always, but my like-minded friends told me they understood what I was trying to say.

How did I know when I was finished and how did I decide where to start?
I would like to say I have finished, but I want to look over it a few more times. It seems as though I could have two different focuses, and I’m still debating if I should take one what. I decided to start with how those mornings started…waking up in my bed, eating my routine breakfast and heading down to the woods.

Blog 14

List of activities during composition:

When writing my nature essay I tried thinking of the last time I was surrounded by nature. I love being in the woods or on the beach (not when the suns out, ironically.) I thought we had to write about something present, not based on memory so I was going to write about the nature that surrounds my house (butterflies, trees, park), but I changed my topic. After deciding on writing about my experience taking runs through the woods and relaxing on the beach back in the Spring, I started writing. I went on memory...but now, that I am revising my essay, I'm going to take another run (regardless of how cold it is outside) and write about the difference in the woods and on the beach from then and now. I'm changing my focus slightly, but I'm still going to include my feelings about the girl I love, since she was always on my mind then and is on my mind now...and how I feel about her is opposite of the nature that surrounded me then and surrounds me now...leaves are dying, but my love is growing.

Literary Journalism

Not sure if I got the whole 'interview'ish' feel in there, but here it is:

“Just Passing Through”

I hate these god damn uniforms. I really don’t understand why they make the girls and guys wear the same thing when a girl looks pretty silly in a white, button down, collared shirt and tie. I was getting ready for work, ironing for twenty minutes like usual, trying to get every god damn wrinkle out of my thick, cotton apron. It was a Friday; I was looking forward to making some better money, hoping they’d give me a better station now that I’ve been there for about three months, but doubtful nevertheless.
Ironing was complete and I was all ready to go. I jumped in my car and headed off to work at Carrabba’s. My three minute drive up the hill and across the highway was enough time to get in a smoke and a Sarah McLachlan song I couldn’t get enough of. I parked in the back like usual, finished my tie and apron in the car, and entered through the back door. As I walked passed the back of the kitchen to the coat rack I was hoping I’d see a good station written in for me on the list, but tried not to hope too much, afraid of jinxing myself. I put my coat away, washed my hands in the bathroom, as I wished others would do before they started work, and made my way to the list that hangs on the wall by the bread machine.
“God damn it, why have I gotten this fucking station again?” I was so pissed off after seeing that I was stuck with tables forty-one and forty-two again. They sit right by the ‘window’ and computers where all the food is ran out from and all the servers hang out. No one ever wants to sit there because there’s too much commotion, not to mention, they’re tables, and everyone requests booths.
“I know, this place is so fucked up. I’m a closer tonight and they only gave me tables four and five.” This was Vera speaking. She was like me, always complaining about one thing or another because we’re never treated fairly.
I looked over the list at others’ sections and saw that Vera, Sherry, Elizabeth, Rachael Danielle, and I had the shittiest sections. Sherry wasn’t coming in until six, so I didn’t have my usual ‘complain buddy’. But there was Vera; she always complained though she did get awesome sections most days of the week. She kept trying to remind me how she was treated unfairly too, but she stuck with it, god how she repeated herself.
Immediately I was put into a shitty mood and couldn’t wipe the frown off my face. I went over to the computer and clocked in, took my beverage napkins, checked out the specials, all the usual shit. My mind floated back to the list. I was so pissed how unfair things are at Carrabba’s. It’s so obvious the favoritism they play at this place. The managers are always going out with certain employees, their drinking buddies, smoking buddies, coke buddies. It’s always their buddies that get the best sections. Sherry, Danielle, me, and the rest who aren’t in with ‘the gang’ only have two four tops on the weekends, when the ‘buddies’ have two two-tops, and one six top, or an eight-top with a twelve-top. Their sales are double or triple ours, their head count is double or triple ours, and the tips they bring home are double or triple ours. It just isn’t fair. That night was like all the other nights, when my mood came crashing down and I wanted so badly to just walk out the door. But I knew I couldn’t do that. I had bills to pay.
The clock went so slow and after getting sat three two-tops in a row I wanted to scream. Sherry finally came in and we bitched and moaned like usual. Where on one table we were making $8 tips, others were making $20 or more. I decided to go over to Rachael who was having the same problems as us, just to see if she even cared the way we did. The restaurant is wide open, with booths lining the walls. She was standing in the carry-out area, a small, separated area of the restaurant that’s never really busy. I made my way across the restaurant and met her in there.
“So you only have one-o-three, one-o-four, and one-o-five tonight, huh?” (Those tables consisted of two two-tops and one four-top.)
“Yeah, and you have forty-one and forty-two?”
“Yeah,” I said unenthusiastically, “this place sucks. I’ve been here longer than some of these newcomers. People really piss me off.”
“Yeah, I know,” she replied. “These bosses are so fucked up. Sally wants to screw Doug so I hear, and you see how every night he gets two six-tops even though he’s newer than us. And Kevin— his performance sucks, yet because he’s Rich’s buddy he always gets three table sections on the weekends.” Vera entered then, caught on to the conversation and chimed in.
“I hear what you’re saying guys. This place pisses me off. I would love to call the corporation and rat them out for being so unfair.”
I prayed that she would, for I simply didn’t have the balls to.

The night went by slow and of course I had mostly two-tops, a couple three-tops, and the only four-tops I had, the seats that I could have been occupied by adults whose totals average between twenty to thirty dollars or more, were occupied by children, whose meals only cost six dollars. I tried to pretend to be busy when I wasn’t so I didn’t have to run food. I hated the idea of working my butt off, knowing how unfair I was being treated and calculating the tips I would be taking home.
Things were slowing down and finally people had begun getting cut. I knew I’d be the next on the list, after the openers, since I went in at four. I started getting my silverware counted, and filled up my oils, anything I could do get out of there faster when my tables finally left. Walking around the kitchen, I began seeing the kind of things that pissed me off even more about this place. Some of the ‘buddies’ did their side work half fast, like they always do. Because they’re in with the ‘gang’ the closers don’t even care to check their side work, and they get signed out and leave with their assigned areas looking like shit, and only half the assigned silverware rolled. Sherry, Danielle, myself, and the rest of us were given more arduous side work like always and when it came time to get checked the closers turned into anal, power control freaks. I was so irate after seeing Kevin simply dip the trays into the water, then returning them to their shelves without scrubbing them or drying them, and getting signed out regardless. I was so irate after seeing Doug roll only about twenty silverware and getting signed out regardless. I was so irate after seeing the coffee and tea area left a complete mess, yet Alonzo, who had the area, was gone already. It was sickening.
When my customers were gone and I was finally checked out my silverware was counted and cleaned, and I made an area next to Danielle in the back of the kitchen to begin rolling.
“Do you know the count tonight,” I asked her, just trying to make conversation, especially knowing we could relate.
“Yeah, forty plus. But sadly not everyone does it; did you see Doug?”
“Yeah, I know, I thought I was the only one who notices shit like that!” I was surprised anyone else noticed or cared.
“Oh god, I notice,” she replied with a sick look on her face. “I don’t understand how some people get away with that shit.”
I explained to her how they’re all buddies, the ones who get treated like gods. I used the information Rachael supplied me with to back me up. She seemed to finally understand. Tara came back then to roll. I knew she wasn’t buddy-buddy with the managers so I tried getting her opinion, letting her know my frustrations as well. We all started to complain together.
“I know. I’ve been here since we’ve opened and yet I get sat two-tops all night. I’m forty two years old and have three kids; I think I need the money more than these kids who get all their fucking money from mommy and daddy.” Danielle and I are around the same age as these ‘kids’ she was talking about, but Tara knew she could say that to us. She knew we paid our own bills and were struggling too, though not as bad as her. “I’m going to need to get a second job; I’m telling you, this place sucks. You guys are lucky. You’re in school; you’re just passing through. Sadly, I’m a lifer.”
We continued rambling on until we finished our huge piles of silverware. After leaving that night I thought a lot about what Tara had said. She was right. I’m just passing through. I still work at Carrabba’s now, but my attitude has totally changed, and with my attitude change I’ve noticed a few other changes. Instead of complaining about my sections, I started to try my hardest not to care. At the sight of lazy “buddies” I tried to pity them rather than get pissed off; pity them that they’re as lazy as they are and sadly will turn into ‘lifers’ themselves.
Over these few weeks of changing my attitude, being more blaze or even crazily cheerful, I’ve realized that my sections have been improving, and with those better sections, my tips at the end of the night are getting higher. I’ve concluded that it’s simply one of those instances where “mind over matter” applies. There are shitty nights here and there of course, but instead of letting those nights get me down, I simply repeat to myself, “I’m just passing through.”

Rhetorical Analysis of Publication Venues

1. Analysis of the editorial description of essays accepted
GLBTQ Online Magazine that accepts ‘coming out stories’ as well as essays on various GLBTQ subjects, book and movie reviews (on books and movies exploring homo/bisexuality), and an area where members can post journals for all to comment on. See website: http://www.oasisjournals.com/magazine

2. Description of several representative essays published in your venue:
Sample essays/stories: ”A Load Off My Shoulders” Natasha Duchenois ”I’m on a Coming Out Role” Devildog ”I Just Told My Mom I’m Gay” Disney”Major Madness’s Coming Out Story of Doom and Peril” Luke Williams

3. Subject matter
The magazine is comprised of book and movie reviews, journals, poetry, a forum, and coming out stories. My story obviously fits into the ‘coming out’ section of the magazine. This section has many different coming out stories from lesbians, gays, bisexuals, etc. from all age groups.

3. Voice:
Many different voices. The magazine accepts all kinds of stories, creative and journal-like. Many of the stories though take a comical approach to coming out, others are more somber, and ask for help at the end where they receive it in the forum.

4. Depth of discussion:
The magazine is not too picky on the length or depth of the stories. It’s there simply to let those from the GLBTQ community share their feelings and gives them a place to go to find other like them for peace of mind.

5. Form: Some of the ‘coming out’ stories are story like (like mine) with dialogue and whatnot; others are more journal like, simply telling rather than showing or going into much depth

6. Artistry: Those who submitted longer, detailed stories took a more comical approach, speaking of the penises or vaginas the authors either love or despise.

7. Niche
audience – GLBTQ members
purpose – To give members an outlet for their creativity/concerns/life experiences/peace of mind.