Evie Shockley Reading

Last Thursday I went to the Evie Shockley poetry reading and her passion while she read her poems was awesome. All of the poems she read were from her book “The New Black” and I liked hearing about where some of her inspiration came from. She read 12 individual poems and then for her final reading she read the set of poems that ends her book. One of the poems that stuck with me was “Celestial” which she used to talk about Ella Fitzgerald and Marilyn Monroe, who she said were two of her heroes. She said once she learned that they were actually friends, she knew she had to write a poem about them. In the poem she used a lot of one word descriptions to talk about each of them individually and then also used simple words to talk about them together. It really stuck with me--it was easy to understand and got a great point across. I actually might try this technique for one of my poems that I’m editing for my final revision. I also thought it was cool the way she uses jokes in her poems to lighten up the very serious topic that she is usually discussing. The subtle jokes and sarcasm I thought made her poems so much more catching and interesting. I really enjoyed hearing her read and I definitely plan on looking into some more of her poetry. She has a very distinct style and it really captured my attention.

Seatbelts Save Lives

So behind. You’d think by senior year of college that I could finally be on top of everything. I’m compulsive about being on time for appointments but my friends have been sacrificed as a result on my serious stress. There’s four months of school left and it’s the time of senioritis kicking in but I haven’t been able to relax and procrastinate because of the constant onslaught of homework since the semester started four weeks ago.

I fly through the door of my apartment and Megan looks up at me and immediately opens her mouth. “Dear god, do you ever stop? I can tell just by the look on your face you have 45 seconds until you’ll be out that door again.”

“I’m sorry I’m sorry!” I find myself apologizing immediately, thinking and realizing that we haven’t hung out in weeks. I’ve been meaning to slow down and accept this as the last few months of the time of my life, but it’s so hard. I don’t know what I can cut out to make sure I graduate and am successful. “Wait.” I look at her defiantly. “I have five minutes right now that are all yours. Tell me about your life.” She looks somewhat shocked.

“Wow. Welllll....” and she takes a deep breath and starts spewing about life. I vaguely nod as she talks about Dan, her kind of boyfriend, Mike, the hookup she’s dealing with on the side, and attempting to finish up all her final semester accounting classes. I’m trying to keep up with her and pay attention, but my eyes flicker to the clock and I realize I’m now ten minutes late to meet Brad at his apartment...which is a ten minute ride away. Suddenly, I snap back into reality and see Megan smiling at me. “Go.” she says. I immediately jump forward and hug her, so grateful I managed to meet my best friend as a freshman in college.

“I’m so sorry, I love you and I’ll totally make it up to you! Maggie Moos tomorrow?” I suggest her favorite ice cream place as a desperate attempt to show her I’m a worthy friend.

“Of course,” she smiles. “As long as you’re driving, I’m there.”

“Love you!” I’m yelling as I grab a different coat, dust on a layer of blush and run out the door. We live on the fourth floor but sometimes it seems as if the flights of stairs are never ending. I’ve definitely been known to joke that paying for a gym membership is pointless since we run flights every day. I push out the back door and jump in my car as fast as possible. Backing out while I pick up my phone to dial Brad, I try to jiggle my seatbelt but I can’t get it in one handed.

The phone is ringing and I’m waiting until finally I end up leaving a message. “Hi love it’s me I’m so sorry I’m late. Megan grabbed me and was talking but I’m on my way!” I turn the two lefts to get to the highway, and I’m trying to whip out quickly to get to Brads. I see a gap and quickly accelerate but then there’s a car in front of me. I try to turn the wheel but before I can even move my hands the car slams into my side and I’m flying into the windshield.

“Some Habits are Hard to Break”

Her face turned red and she shrunk down at her desk in U.S. History II. The teacher had just called her name out and asked her how she could possibly still be biting her nails, a habit which eight year olds would have already given up. The girl pulled her brown hair in front of her face and mumbled a response about being sorry and nervous about something. It was the third day of junior year and she had thought she would be able to give up the habit, a gross one that her friends were forever making fun of her for. They called her the machine gun. They said was an affectionate nickname but everyone around could tell that it was embarrassing. After all, no one would want to be called that themselves. It was a vicious cycle: the more people noticed she chewed her nails down the more embarrassed she got and the worse she would bite and bite.

Once she got home she immediately googled how to stop biting your nails. The first site that came up was a health site and it’s first suggestion said to wear fake nails. She looked down at the ten ragged stumps she had at the tip of each finger. She imagined them with long beautiful, brightly colored nails and immediately felt a twinge of longing. She was determined.

After returning home from a quick trip to CVS, she had brightened up considerably. There had been rows and rows of beautifully colored nails, all different lengths, colors and patterns. After looking through each different set, she had finally decided on pale pink, average length nails with one single sparkle on the right ring finger. She tediously matched each real nail up to the perfect sized fake and then opened the glue and got down to business.

She couldn’t believe how beautiful her hands look. Such a simple solution, she couldn’t believe she’d never tried it before! Imagining that her real nails could look like that made her smile--she would keep these on for a week or two and then would take them off and watch her nails grow so beautifully. All of her girl friends would apologize for spreading around such a heinous nickname and would ask her secrets, ask her how she had turned around such a terrible habit into beautiful tips at the ends of her fingers. As she looked down and smiled, she then looked up at herself right in the eye. She dug through the bathroom drawer and then, for the first time in years, she reached up and pulled her hair back away from her face.

Who's in Danger?

As I press end on my cell phone, I sigh and look around for a bra to put on. It’s the beginning of August, and since the end of summer is approaching it’s a no brainer that Mary and Deanna decided to do something stupid to kill the time. I’m sure it’s the same as always, some dumb prank that they build up in their heads, and by the time I get there to “fix” the problem, it’s already forgotten.

I finally find a hot pink bra in the middle of the pile of clothes I have on my floor. For some reason I thought it was a good idea to leave all my clothes from school on the floor, so they didn’t mix with the clothes I had in my closet that I never wore. As a result, all summer I’d lost any sense of fashion, and if I could even find a cute dress it would be as wrinkled as a ten-year old boy’s shirt.

As I head down the stairs, I try to imagine some sort of response in my head to the inevitable question that my mother is going to ask me. As I round the corner into the kitchen, I see her sitting there, and brace myself to evaluate the situation so I can go “save” my friends.

“Jenna, where are you possibly going at 12:30 at night?”

“Mary and Deanna called. They decided to have an impromptu sleepover and they asked if I wanted to come. Well, they demanded I come. Is it okay if I go?”

“That’s fine. Just drive safely. It’s late, you know there’s always crazy drivers on the road.”

“I always do. See you tomorrow.” As I breathe a sigh of relief that’s she’s letting me go, I realize I’m now going to actually have to spend the night at one of their houses. Instead of in my super comfortable bed, where I had been holed up skyping with my boyfriend....how many days until I go back to school? I love them, but wow I can’t wait to get that cherished break from cleaning up their messes, due to the same lack of boredom I’m suffering.

After I turn the keys in my ignition, the radio comes on blasting in the middle of Luke Bryan’s ‘Drunk on You,’ my current favorite song. It makes me smile and I start to sing along, hoping that by the time I get there they have solved their “serious” issue, and we can just go get a pint of Ben and Jerrys and fall asleep watching a ridiculous chick flick. I pull out of my driveway and take the three short turns that lead me to route 22, the main highway that goes through Bridgewater. The stupid ‘meeting place’ that they love so much is behind the Starbucks that’s next to the mall. However, I lucked out since it’s only three minutes from my house, while it’s fifteen from Marys. As I start to pick up speed since there’s no one around, I laugh. My next favorite song just came on--it must have been fate. I feel bad for dreading seeing my friends so much, and realize that we’ll get to go do something ridiculous instead.

Suddenly, I see headlights in my face. What? Cars tail lights aren’t that bright...and before I can think, I have to swerve out of the way as a car going over eighty miles zooms through the lane where I just was. The last thought I can remember is flying toward the ditch on the side of the road, in a panicked daze.

My Watch

The curved glass face is framed by shiny silver titanium.

When the light hits the edges, the shine is magnified and the time stands out.

The row of six white stitches stand at attention on the black leather band.

The worn leather near the clasp shows clear signs of wear, as tiny brown marks slowly appear with age.

The feel so comfortable, banded to my left wrist, only to leave when there is a fear of water.

The simple joy of being able to always tell the time brings a smile to my face.

A Christmas present that I didn’t ask for, but has become a daily part of life.

Knowing how happy it makes my mom every time she sees how well she knows my style.

The small black numbers, now an insurance that I never write the wrong date on my papers.

The comforting knowledge that I can now discretely count down the minutes in my classes without annoying my teachers.

Slip Away Like Air

It can slip away like air

as you find yourself alone

once a part of an inseparable pair

you’re abandoned, cold as stone

As you find yourself alone

Wonder where you’ll go to next

you’re abandoned, cold as stone

how you got here, too perplexed

Wonder where you’ll go next

the heartbreak is so unbearable

how you got here, too perplexed

after this pain will I be repairable

The heartbreak is so unbearable

It was there, you gave yourself away

After this pain will I be repairable

trusting anyone won’t return another day

It was there, you gave yourself away

So different, it seemed, the love we had

Trusting anyone won’t return another day

reminiscing on the love that went bad

So different it seemed, the love that we had

It simply slipped in and wrapped around me

Reminiscing on the love that went bad

here alone, an inadvertent escapee

It simply slipped in and wrapped around me

Now it’s gone and I’m left behind to rot

Here alone, an inadvertent escapee

Slipping into the world’s blind spot.

I chose to write my poem in the pantoum form, mainly because this form caught my attention the most. Usually, I feel like repetition and rhyme make my poems take on a childish feel, but I think that in the specific form it actually helped. I think the repetition enforced a lot of the points that I wanted to make, and I like the way it slips into a rhythm due to this repetition. I thought the rhyme scheme of ABAB for every line was at times difficult, because the meaning of the line didn't always end up matching what I originally meant in my head. However, after working with the rhyme sceme a little bit (and, admittedly, the use of a rhyming dictionary) I managed to make most of the lines have a similar meaning to what I originally meant. I think the pantoum form complements the dark feeling of the poem, since the point of the poem was to talk about how easy it is to lose someone's trust. The repetition helps to reiterate lines with specific meanings, and the rhyming actually helps it to flow. I think the Pantoum style is definitely good for serious poems.

Gessner Reflection

David Gessner’s speech did not really catch my interest. Although he made a lot of interesting points about where our environment is going, and how we should be treating the problem, I can’t really say I’d be interested in reading his books.

I liked that he seemed very down to earth, talking about the cognitive dissonance between the way we live and the way we know we should live, because it was a very relatable topic. I definitely agreed with him that its hard to be an environmentalist when people are saying that everything we are doing is “the end of the world.” I also liked the way that Gessner compared humans to Northern Gannet birds. I had never heard of the birds before, but the way that he talked about how they are glutinous, and eat as many fish as possible and compared them to humans it really rung true. When he was asking the question of whether or not it will be possible for us to be happy with less than we have now, I found myself really thinking about the issue.

However, I think that a lot of the points he made were not anything that I would really want expanded upon. They stimulated a lot of personal thought for myself, but I don’t think that I would be propelled to by a book and read more about what another person thinks we should do. I liked hearing his main points, but I think that reading a full book on environmental reflections similar to those he talked about would just bore me. I’m glad I went to the reading-- it gave me a lot of food for thought. Gessner is asking a lot of good, important questions, and I hope that someday soon we will find an answer for them.

Lady Lazarus by Sylvia Plath

I have done it again. One year in every ten I manage it---- A sort of walking miracle, my skin Bright as a Nazi lampshade, My right foot A paperweight, My face a featureless, fine Jew linen. Peel off the napkin 0 my enemy. Do I terrify?---- The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth? The sour breath Will vanish in a day. Soon, soon the flesh The grave cave ate will be At home on me And I a smiling woman. I am only thirty. And like the cat I have nine times to die. This is Number Three. What a trash To annihilate each decade. What a million filaments. The peanut-crunching crowd Shoves in to see Them unwrap me hand and foot The big strip tease. Gentlemen, ladies These are my hands My knees. I may be skin and bone, Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman. The first time it happened I was ten. It was an accident. The second time I meant To last it out and not come back at all. I rocked shut As a seashell. They had to call and call And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls. Dying Is an art, like everything else, I do it exceptionally well. I do it so it feels like hell. I do it so it feels real. I guess you could say I've a call. It's easy enough to do it in a cell. It's easy enough to do it and stay put. It's the theatrical Comeback in broad day To the same place, the same face, the same brute Amused shout: 'A miracle!' That knocks me out. There is a charge For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge For the hearing of my heart---- It really goes. And there is a charge, a very large charge For a word or a touch Or a bit of blood Or a piece of my hair or my clothes. So, so, Herr Doktor. So, Herr Enemy. I am your opus, I am your valuable, The pure gold baby That melts to a shriek. I turn and burn. Do not think I underestimate your great concern. Ash, ash --- You poke and stir. Flesh, bone, there is nothing there---- A cake of soap, A wedding ring, A gold filling. Herr God, Herr Lucifer Beware Beware. Out of the ash I rise with my red hair And I eat men like air. A conversation And so it goes For every time a new challenge Every time a new vice. The scars are worthy You’d be surprised For they come and go Ankles and hips Wrists and consciousness, A determination of sorts. Dying, Is a challenge Could I have a call. Can it feel like hell Will you get there For when you want Are the 9 lives lucky Or could you end it all It’s easy enough To come back and try Again, To see the effects you have. Flesh, bone, A body collected A reserve of ideas Going to waste In the blood For a word or a touch. The grave can call A miracle may last, I may collapse shut.

December Lust

snow falling,

catch the flakes on your tongue,

and admire the beauty of the white.

turkeys, stuffing, mashed potatoes,

the most delicious of spreads you could imagine,

and family spilling all around.

the scent of evergreens touch your nose,

you smile at the christmas cheer in your cup,

everyone loves a little baileys and hot cocoa.

winter brings the cold,

some hate it, and some love it

but none can deny,

it’s a beautiful time.

such a beautiful time,

the time of the Sagittarius.

Original:

We walk to the church in a group of about twenty. As we enter through the front doors, I look up in awe. I’ve never been in a church like this before, shaped in a circle with little classrooms all around the edges. We take our seats in the firs few rows, when someone calls us to attention. I look up, and see the four members of what I assume to be the executive board, sitting on the alter and looking out expectantly. The only guy up there is scanning the room, and our eyes lock for a split second, and I can’t break away. I have never, ever seen eyes this breathtaking. As I give a shy smile and turn away, I hope that there’s a birthday surprise coming my way.

---------------------

I’m walking on the main pathway through the maze of buildings, alone after the day of training. We got back with twenty minutes left in ninth period, and there’s no way I’m going to class. I’m still in a haze from the day’s activities. Although I never spoke to Dave, I’m determined to have him be mine. He seems perfect--smart, funny, involved, and my god those eyes. I can’t imagine anyone else, and I’m lost in a daydream, smiling about him happy. As I look down the walkway, I seem him walking up. I’m alone and he’s with two people I don’t know, but we make eye contact again. He smiles at me, winks and says, “Happy birthday, birthday girl.”

Rewritten:

I’ll never forget when I first met you. We all walked over to the church, a group of twenty of us. You were in the back, talking to the other execs, and I was in the middle of the pack, awkwardly trying to make friends. Once we went inside the strange circular church, I took my seat in the second row. You went up to the altar and sat down on the steps with the other board execs. You hadn’t seemed particularly interesting, until you looked up and I caught your attention. As I looked into your eyes, I had a split second moment of realization that I had never seen any eyes that incredibly breathtaking before. And right then, before you had even learned who I was, I knew I wanted you to be mine. After all, it was my birthday right? What a birthday surprise that was, to find someone as wonderful as you.

--------------------------------

As I walked alone on the maze of pathways in our school, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I’m in a haze from the days activities, and although we barely spoke, I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be alone with you. I can’t imagine anyone else, and I’m lost in a daydream, smiling to myself. Then, I remember looking up, and seeing you coming up the pathway. You were with two other execs, but I was only looking at you. Once you looked up, you smiled and winked at me, and said, “Happy birthday, birthday girl.” Four simple words, but you’d caught me in your trap.

On Infatuation

They always tell me that one day, someone will walk into my life and i’ll finally understood why nothing ever worked out with anyone else. But how does that work? I look and wait, I fall in love and I wonder when that sign comes.

The movies tell me to look for when life as I know it ends*, or when I catch someone’s eye across the room and I melt into a puddle on the ground. But is that really how the chips fall?

I’ve watched and listened. I’ve seen shows on love. But it never happens. Ted** is always looking for the one, the one he wants to marry, but his hopes are always dashed, and I don’t understand why.

I’m in love now. You could definitely call it that. But where does it change? From infatuation to love? They tell me that in a moment, everything I know could disappear, I’ll be forever changed. But it doesn’t work like that. It can’t work like that.

As our lives intertwine, I find myself wondering if he’s the one. That’s stupid, everyone around me will tell me that the love you have now won’t last. But am I to be damned for hoping that it might? To dare to think that it could? Do I deserve the crazy label that anyone would tell me when I spit these thoughts out loud?

It seems easy, to be infatuated. The pint of Ben & Jerry’s in my freezer is the closest thing I’ve ever experienced to perfect. Since I think about it all day, does that make me insane? The thought that happiness can come from all sorts of places? When you word it like that, it’s not a crazy thought at all. But when you take a step back, does anything ever make sense?

They always tell me that it will work out for the better. That sometimes, if there’s something you really want, to ask for it. And if you don’t get it, that maybe it wasn’t worth having in the first place.*** I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever understand the advice that they’re giving me.

I’m told to give it my all. To be a hopeless romantic. But in this world, in this day and age, if you give it this all you’re simply cast off. Her hopes will be dashed, and failure is imminent. Do you think I’m crazy? To believe in that love?

I’ve seen a life changing love. I know that it’s out there. Is my love that love? I don’t think you know. I think it must be something you stumble upon. Twenty years later, finally realizing that you were the lucky one. That you married your soulmate.

*PS I Love You

**How I Met Your Mother

*** Gilmore Girls

Tayari Jones

When I walked into the Tayari Jones reading, I was ready to hate it. I was prepared to be bored for an hour, and then leave wondering why I’d had to come. However, once she started reading, the smooth sound of her voice and the way she brought her characters to life enraptured me.

At the end when we were having the question and answer, she said many lines that actually stuck with me. When she was talking about Silver Sparrow, she said, “think about parents having custody of children, but children have custody of their parents,” and that seemed like a very interesting concept to me. Family dynamics are always hard to write about, and since my family is very close I feel like what she said really applies to us. I’ve never thought about writing with the idea behind that I have custody of my parents, but I feel like writing about the relationship in a reverse way might actually shed more insight into our relationship.

I also enjoyed that she spoke about how much of a processes it is for her to get a good story. She was very open, and I like that she spoke about writing her way into a story, and once she gets good ideas she threads them throughout. I think I’d like to work on this, since I usually plan my story out, and then write it. It seems that just starting with an idea and going from there might leave me with a better story than planning out the whole story beforehand. I’m glad that I went to this reading, because I feel like I learned a lot of different techniques I could apply to my own writing. I found it very interesting, and I think I might go read the rest of Silver Sparrow!

FTK

I count down the days. It comes once a year, and that next day after, we’re back at 364. Counting down, day by day, checking off the boxes. There are concessions, yes, like the day captains are picked, 100 days till THON, Coldstone Scoops FTK, and Color Wars Kick-Off. These days provide excitement, and bring joy. But finally, on that third weekend in February, the real thing is here. The most amazing 46 hours of my life. Of Penn Stater’s lives. And most important, of the kid’s lives.

Then, you walk into the Bryce Jordan Center. If you’re lucky enough to be a captain, you’ll arrive around six am friday morning. And you’ll watch it transform. You see the decorations go up, the stage get rearranged, dancer storage get put together. Then, the moraler’s will come in for an hour, maybe two. What was a bunch of wooden squares will transform into a decorated area for each dancer to put all the belongings they considered important enough to come along for their 46 hour trek. Then finally, at four pm in the afternoon, the tunnel gets built. The dancers will run through all of the moraler’s outside, into the BJC, down the stairs, across the floor, and they will finally be at the start of their life changing weekend.

There are no words for how it changes you. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll feel more exhausted than you ever have, even if you’re not dancing. You’ll spend 42 hours working towards a goal, surrounded by thousands who share your passion. Then, once the last four hours come. You’ll get that inspiration. You’ll hear parents talk about their children, children talk about their lives, and you’ll watch a slideshow, ‘The Celebration of Life,’ that will make you cry your eyes out. THON really does change your life. It will put everything in perspective, and you will make a difference in the life of a child. How can you not count down the days, hours, and minutes until that weekend? When you see kids who got dealt the worst hand running around shooting a watergun with the largest smile on their face, you finally understand what’s really worth it. And after all....

"I never thought a hero could be barely 3 feet tall, inspired we chant FTK for the heroes, for them all. if you take one thing back from THON after everything you give, remember what it taught you about what it means to live."

Let the Races Begin

He sits at his desk, sweating, re-reading the words to make sure he understands the full meaning. Once he signs, it means that the 20-year old ban on sports betting in New Jersey will be overturned. His shirt is slightly sweat soaked, and if you look closely there’s perspiration slowly gathering at his temples. His tie is thrown over his shoulder, and his jacket is in a pile on the floor, haphazardly left behind. This bill means thats betting can begin, it will be open for business on all professional and college sports teams. It’s a big change, from the way it was before.

As he picks up a pen, we all take a breath. Four of us are looking at him, waiting so anxiously to see if he’s going to start a new betting era. He uses the pen to underline words, a disappointment to us. He’s been so quiet on the subject, no one knows how he feels. No one knows if he’s on board.

Then, he smiles. His face literally breaks into a grin, and there’s a sigh of relief that accompanies it. It seems as if there’s a shift in his persona, no longer stressed and sweating, but almost excited. He signs the bill and looks up at us. His face looks relieved, ready to go. There’s a chance that the casino and horse racing industries will be kickstarted. New Jersey will be changing, and hopefully for the better. Although many challenges lie ahead, everyone in the room is ready. Let the races begin!

http://www.nj.com/news/index.ssf/2012/01/gov_christie_signs_bill_allowi_4.html

Leather Jacket Swag

As soon as I saw it, I knew I had to have it. Now the only problem was the price. I had a sneaking suspicion it would be high. And a sinking feeling that there were only forty euros in my wallet. If only I hadn’t tried to be responsible, and had taken out more money like I had originally wanted to! Suddenly, I saw another girl eying up my beautiful maroon leather jacket, and I swooped in. Credit card fees be damned, I needed it.

As I turned over the price tag, I felt intense joy. 18 euros?! Only 18 euros for the perfect leather jacket I had been scouring France to return home with It was elation. It was love. I knew that as soon as I put it on, I would be cooler than Jess Mariano, and command more attention than Audrey Hepburn once she donned those shades.

The rest of my two weeks in France changed my life. I know, a leather jacket, changing someone’s life? Absurd, but true. I had never been cultured before, but somehow, when wearing my leather jacket, I was suddenly cool enough to utilize my french skills, and speak to that cute waiter in the cafe, or ask directions to the place I was trying to find. Before, although embarrassing to admit, it had been very like me to worry too much to ask directions, and I would return back home without actually going anywhere in this amazing country. On one of these days, when I finally felt confident armed with my leather jacket, I turned and asked a man (in french, of course) how to get to the Louvre. He told me the way, and as I walked the few miles, the intimidation that museums had earlier held disappeared.

In the Louvre, I realized that I should embrace becoming the person I was destined to be. I knew that it was time to mature, discover who my true friends are, and end the on going petty arguments that had been deteriorating my relationship with my mother since I turned fourteen. In those moments, I changed my high school experience. Somehow, my leather jacket had given me the confidence to leave fake friends and petty arguments in the dust, and embrace those who loved me.

And now, whenever I put my very faded leather jacket on, I’m back in France, looking over the Seine and fully understanding the decisions I needed to make. I know that without it, I wouldn’t have the relationship I have with my mom today. And when I look at my best friends, the ones who stood by me through it all and showed me what true friends are, I’m so grateful for that fateful day, back in Plimkie, when I stumbled upon my perfect leather jacket.