Reflective Objects are Shiny Sometimes

The timeline was the most helpful. It actually made me think about what my life had been thus far, literature wise. From there, I just narrowed it down. The letter on the other hand, I feel, didn’t help me. Even at this moment, I still don’t know what it was about, sadly.

The moment I chose was when I was in seventh grade and began writing nonstop. I don’t think I ever matched the ferocity of how much I had written in a short amount of time. Nothing I had done before had remotely compared to that. Even after that year, I never wrote anything with such a passion.

According to my peer revisers, I am hard to follow at times. I understand that. That was essentially a down draft so whatever made sense was a miracle. My paper wasn’t in chronological order. I established a fake opening but time doesn’t really progress through that paper, I just talk about my writing in seventh grade, not one day.  Towards the end I threw in a certain erotic novel that has earned my hatred. In the next draft, I won’t mention it at all. I’m just going to call that one of the weakest parts. I’m even iffy about my opening paragraph. I know the topic sentence needs work.

One thing that I am proud of is how I was able to bring attention to someone who really doesn’t need acknowledgement. When I talk about the little girl who was mean to me, my peers took interest in her and asked me to write more about her even though she was only important for that sentence and needs no further exposition. I’m proud I got people interested, I’m ashamed that their interest was directed at the wrong topic.

To sum up my peer’s reviews it feels like they were either misdirected or didn’t really read it at all. My paper isn’t chronological. I don’t go in to detail over too many actual nonimportant things. My pivotal moment is the actual seventh grade. I got really fired up over and writing and I describe that.  The fact that one wrote, “This story flows chronologically. However I don’t feel an actual beginning middle and end.” and the other said that I hadn’t put anything about the bullies makes me feel as if no real thought was put into it.

I guess I could say that the whole paper is a flash back that has minor flash backs, much like Inception. For the most part I used my voice. I’d like to think that’s one of my strongest attributes in writing. I just like to keep readers interested by keeping it fresh.

Yes they chose fifteen sentences and I’d like to use most if not all since some are the same. The Moodle does not specifically say what the limit is, so in theory I could use my whole paper!

(That last part was a joke. I’ll use some of the ones they picked and a few of my own.)


My Childhood was Subpar (Part 2)

The point in my life I’d like to zero in on is a combination in two in the previous post: Seventh and Eleventh Grades, but I’ll throw in Sixth Grade as well. Not only do they rhyme they have some to major importance to me, minus the last one.

My sixth grade year was terrible; barely had any friends, my teacher was a truly terrible person, my classmates sucked. I had (at most) three friends.  Though I can laugh about it now as that point in my life really shaped who I am today, I truly hated everyone around me. This is when I really took to reading. Books can’t taunt you and say you look like a tree today. Books also can’t steal some of your pizza rolls at lunch. Books, however, can cut you if you wrong them in any way. They are, how you say, about that life.

The next year, I decided to write my own books. The kind that you find in a second hand shop even though it was just released earlier that day. They were pretty bad is what I’m saying. My friends who I had forced to read my writings liked it enough to keep me from giving up. Writing in general got me out of taking notes as my then teacher wasn’t very competent with anything. (He was later demoted to fourth grade the next year, then let go the year following)

Writing was really my escape from reality. I could make my characters do whatever I felt like that day. Should I end a story with them falling down and up escalator? Why yes, I shall. And I did.

The third part in my trifecta of a pivotal moment was when Fifty Shades came out. Hearing the praises of such a work, I grew interested. Much to my dismay, I read about one fourth to one third of the first book and quit. How could something so terribly written become a best seller? When lines are repeated back to back with minor word changes, how can my AP English teacher go on about how great the trilogy is. The only thing that inspired me to go beyond what I’ve done now is that book. Hopefully, one day I’ll become ridiculously famous for actual well thought out story writing.

Apparently My Childhood was Subpar

Ages 3-4

My childhood wasn’t exactly rough nor was it a cake walk. I still have a small portions of my memories from when I was three years old. I was a very happy and precocious girl. I remember we (my family) would go to the library all the time. I got to pick out whatever I wanted, that included VHS tapes! I had my favorites and their names escape me now but I somewhat remember the cover of one. There was also this home movie called Rappin’ N Rhymin’. ’twas the best thing since sliced bread! It had over the top nineties’ dances and catchy songs. My older brother and I recently found it on youtube. It’s thirty minutes so unless you have an ethernet cable or reliable wifi, I’d suggest you skip it.

  • Ages 5-6

My mom is like the black version of a tiger mom. We had this little school desk in our house, I have no idea how we obtained it but it was there. It seems like every day my mom would pull me out of whatever fun activity I had occupied myself with and would have me sit in that desk and practice writing ABCs. Needless to say I had no trouble remembering any of the alphabet or writing my name.

Then when I had started kindergarten two wonderful things happened. My teachers gave me this little cheap print outs of books easy enough for a five year old. I remember hating those too but once I read them all, I got a very sparkly purple pencil. The second was learning the alphabet all over again, however, they had personified each and every letter! Annie Apple. Munchy M. Etc.

  • Ages 7-8

I was what everyone would call a “crybaby”. I cried over everything. When things got too hard, I gave up and cried about it. I’ve also been told I was a very noisy baby. There was one time in particular. I had to miss school for about two weeks to go to Georgia so my mom could take care of my grandma. So my mom was my teacher and it was one of the most terrible experiences of my life. Every day with this woman. Ugh.

[Skipping a few years as nothing of actual importance happens]

  • Fifth and Sixth Grade

This was the beginning of the end of my general out going-ness and not having a general skepticism about everyone new I meet. I had a truly terrible teacher in a truly terrible class. I had only about five friends and three of them were books. The depression that stems from that is a totally different post. My seclusion that year gave me more than enough time to read. So a hat’s off to all terrible teachers out there, though I hope you get hit by a bus is traffic.

  • Seventh grade through tenth grade

I started my first story in the seventh grade though I had seriously hated my English teacher and thus the class itself. The class was a complete joke so writing got me out of taking notes, not like he truly checked what I was writing; just the fact that I was writing was good enough.

My story was terribly written and ,for the most part, the plot and jokes were stolen from movies that were popular at the time. The title of it was “The Story” and it had an even worse part 2. I guess it was like the renaissance of my menial existence. Not to down myself, I just know that I’m not the best writer that ever lived or the master that caught the original 151 original Pokémon. [Honestly, I’m neither of those.] Yet, all that crap writing that I had my friends read, and they admittedly enjoyed, just made me a better writer in the long run.

My second story was called “This F@cking Place I call Home”. My then magnum opus. Centered around a girl who was forced to leave the city and live in a small town.Still unfinished but if you care to read what I have so far, be my guest. Just know it’s really offensive in terms of language and all…

  • Eleventh and Twelfth grade

I had been reading and writing for a while. Pinterest had become popular so I had begun to peruse it all the time. Fifty Shades of Gray was all over the place. My teacher was talking about it. Old women at this girl’s church were talking about it. Finally when I read it, which I couldn’t as it is so terribly written, I was deeply disappointed. Stemming from a Twilight -which is also expertly written- fanfiction, I should have known better. Even for smut it was bad. That just gave me the antithesis of what every writer, fiction or not, should do. And I know it’s really sad that my minor pivotal moment is Fifty Shades [of Shit]. It just made me really sad that anyone with a computer and a search engine can become number one, two, and three on the best seller list; the trilogy itself was at the top three spots.

This made me look at my writing and go through and change things again, also my reading preferences. Truly terrible that author is.

  • Freshman Year of College

I’ve been known to  go to second hand shops and buy books since they’re usually less than a dollar. Currently I have “Blood Thirsty” and “The Naked Roommate and Other Things You’ll Run into at College”. The first is about some white kid who became a vampire but is still super lame. The latter is something like a self help book that I haven’t cracked open more than twice.

I really want to go back to my stories and rewrite them if I had the time. ideas for new stories are always popping up and that’s also a deterrent to going back, but one day I will!

My school novels, “Out of this Furnace” and “Secrets of Mariko” are so unbelievably boring that I can’t look at them more than half an hour at a time, and that’s being generous. I’m really depressed I have to write a paper about them later on… Sigh…

This Mess I Call a Blog

This is “Amanda’s Dungeon” just because it’s dark and filled with terrible sarcastic humor. The tag line is a result of that. “A dimly lit den of forced pleasure” is you visiting this page and forcing yourself to laugh at my attempts at being funny.

The theme I chose was Dusk to Dawn but through some playing around and Google searches I’ve made it my own. If you were to leave and come back, the header picture will change. I’ve also changed the background picture. It doesn’t reflect who I am but I like it because it’s different. You can expect that to change.

Sadly, I could not have my page play music. Correction, I can play music but I refuse to pay for that service. My original plan was to have “Step by Step” by New Kids on the Block play because my professor said step by step multiple times when giving my class the initial assignment to create a blog. Youtube videos will have to suffice.

That’s just a little bit of the fun I’ve had with this. I might be a little bit sad next semester, assuming that we won’t be using these.

Writing is Important and so is When Doves Cry

The lack of control of voice and tone in my generation is laughable. I can say that as I am a reluctant member of the age 15 to 25 group. Writing in classes helps combat this, at least in my own opinion. The teacher gives you a defined audience and with almost all cultures, people change how they speak when talking to someone above them. Unless you come from a very laid back family, you don’t talk to your great grandmother the way you do when you talk to your friend.

I know I can’t be around the same people for hours on end. Even when I was working everyday, I truly wanted to staple their mouths shut as nothing pertinent to my day was being said. At times I completely shut down. Living with a roommate has further cemented my need to live alone. So how does this tie into why writing is important? Writing is just another from of communication. As stated, after so long I stop all communication. Writing Science Fiction or Fiction in general helps me cope with my social anxiety. It gives a legitimate reason to shut everyone out.

What if your voice box was demolished by say, drinking a little too much bleach and ammonia cocktail? You can bet that you won’t be talking anytime soon. Everyone else can assume that you didn’t take the time to learn sign language prior to your attempt so writing is really your only choice. Tone doesn’t really carry in writing as it does by actually speaking. You’ll have to spice it up just enough so that we know exactly what you mean and how you meant it.

From another non-scholastic stand point and on to a career orientated one, I’d like to be a Japanese and Chinese translator. When working on translating a video game or the nations best seller, there is usually a team working to get the basic meaning of the passage (which leave lexical gaps or lacuna*) and then people to prose it up. I’ like to be one of the latter. How can I make a sentence go from a gibberish mess to something that rolls off the tongue like a breeze on glorious Summer day?

With the importance of writing of course!

But my writing doesn’t stop there. After I graduate university, I’d like to fallow in the foot steps of my dad and enlist in the Air National Guard. He was in the Navy, the Reserves, Air National Guard, and on Active Duty many times. He is the main reason I’m at Oakland. I’d like to have the same stability while helping others. Though I am not physically strong or particularly brave, I’d like to be one of the framers for military doings. Just this year, we went through the ringer trying to use the G.I. Bill. The higher ups had changed the number of years from twenty to twenty four leaving many people unable to use them. I’d like to be there and write suggestions/demands as the changing of certain things leaves so many people unable to use what was rightfully theirs.

*Need an example:

“Pinchar” the Spanish verb which is specifically used when a needle is used to draw blood. Any word in English for it? Nope. Puncture is the closest but we use it for anything we want.