Free Write

Prompt 1: The 2007 movie the bucket list popularized the idea of putting together a list of all the things that you wanted to do before you “kick the bucket.” What would you put on your bucket list? Make the list and then write about why those things are on there and how likely you think it is that they will actually happen. 

I guess there Isn’t much on my bucket list. I want to have kids. I want to travel to at least 7 countries that I do not know of yet, I want to learn Italian, I want to go scuba diving with sharks, I want to be a foster mom. I think that all of these things are going to happen in my life. I don’t have many super out there things to put on my bucket list. I guess I have always lived my life without to much risk so it makes my bucket list kind of boring. 

Prompt 2: Write as if you were a drop of water. Describe your journey wether through oceans, rivers, mountain streams, forest creeks, house pipes, city sewers, rain storms, hurricanes, whatever...

I start as a teardrop, the clouds cry me out with a forceful anger. I fall to the earth with millions of other tears and strike the ground with force. As I fall into the sewer, darkness surrounds me and I am whisked away with the million other tear drops that now make a stream. We travel by rats, their pet bugs flying around their face and piles of dirt that has collected over the years. The stream turns into a waterfall and once again we fall. Down down down we fall. We move through the tunnels of the underground and filter into the ocean.  

Prompt 3: WHich do you think is more important for your town: A hospital or cell phone service? Pick one and make your case for it. 

This is a very hard call. On one hand you need a hospital but if no one has the ability to call for help if they are not on a landline then the hospital is not helping as many people as it is intended to help. If you have a cell phone service, you can call for help but there is no hospital to call. I would say that a hospital is more important even though there is no cell phone service, people can still call for help from landlines. 

Pastorals

I take in your beauty 

the world becomes quiet and still  

Laying on the dew covered grass 

I stretch out 

My arms brush the grass, 

Makes the dew jump 

like grasshoppers 

The light

warm and inviting

filters through the branches  

I tilt my chin to drink it in 

The warmth

sinks into my face 

Lost in my own world 

I watch the bubbles 

Explode as they reach the top 

Peering closer at the fish

I watch them 

Doing underwater pirouettes 

The movements

fluid and continuous 

colors morph into a rainbow 

I move from tank to tank 

The calm 

seeps into my body

Lost in my own world 

I smell the cinnamon 

Hitting my face 

As I sit in my usual spot 

I breath in 

The aroma wraps around my nose

Tickling it as it fills me

The sweet and sour 

Blend perfectly like the Yin and the Yang 

I disregard all those around me 

Lost in my own world 

The Death of Love 2.0

You perished, in a whirlwind, of ecstasy;
And my heart is the only one destroyed
Filling my trash full of tissues and memories.
Broken Vows, Crumpled Valentines!


Do you think anyone could love you more?
Do you think I could ever get over you?
Like I could forget the moments we shared?
Your light hearted laugh, dancing around my head.


No, you still cease to love me like I adore you.
My hand, not in yours, the world seems bitter and lonely
You will move on with your life, not a care,
Destined for greatness, joy walking with you
Happiness is meant to find you, but not me;
As I began to loose you, my happiness left.

My Singing Binder

My Singing Binder

Inside you:

Creased

Wrinkled

Out of order 

The notes all about 

Creating a cacophony of sounds the minute they are let loose 

One fourth 

Two Fourth

Three Fourth 

Four Fourth

The beats stamped out 

Like a parade of soldiers marching to the beat of a drum 

Crescendo

Sharps

Flats 

Devils triads 

Making the formal notes relaxed

I find my piece, 

put it on a stand 

Relax 

Breath in 

Find the first note 

My mouth opens

Notes fall out 

Not even comprehending what I am doing

Breaks 

Trills 

Grace notes 

Gives a song flair 

I can do what I please with them 

Silence 

The music fades out 

Not longer is the melody filling the air 

The sheets are returned to the binder until next time  

An ode to my little sis

An ode to my little sis,

You are the reason my life is filled with bliss. 

You are the funny face maker,

You are the cute clothes taker.

You are basically the bomb,

You are in love with the show dance moms.

You are the one i confide in,

You are my beloved kin.

You are the one that I hold near,

You are the one that I call dear.

You are the leader of your sports pack,

You are Stromboli, I am Applejack.

You are adored by many of your peers,

You are that kid who only wore blue for two year.

You are the one who helped me pick blackberries,

You are the one that loved the Teletubies.

You are the one thats full of joy,  

The the one I love to annoy. 

You are the reason my life is filled with bliss,

An ode to my little sis. 

Comatose

    Comatose 

A Full-Length Play 

By Nicolina Kristof

Cast list: 

TRISH: the daughter. keeping a secret. on the outside she looks fine. on the inside she is a wreck. 

JESS: Trish’s friend

LAURA: the grieving wife of a man who is brain dead. Not coping with this well. 

GRANT: the son. Angry for an unknown reason. Acts like his dad is dead. 

CURT: the comatose husband. Never talks or moves. 

Act 1: Scene 1 

A bedroom, overly elaborate. Trophies occupying ever space on a large bookshelf placed next to the bed. TRISH and JESS sit in the room. TRISH sitting on the floor listening to her music one headphone in. JESS on the bed. 

JESS: 

(Looking up from a book)

Hey,(Pauses)HEY Trish. (Trish looks up) What did you get on the bio test? 

TRISH: 

Eh....a 34. 

JESS: 

Out of a hundred...Trish....You never get F’s. You should talk to Mr. C. I’m sure he will let you retake the test just cause of what’s going on right now. 

TRISH: 

No it’s fine. 

          JESS:

(A loud medical alarm sounds, the beeping sporadic. This is followed by running in the hall and orders being yelled. You hear the words “Charge to 200” monitors still chaotically beeping screaming now starts. JESS startled. Jumps off the bed Shaking TRISH)

TRISH! TRISH! what’s going on! Is the house on fire? Do we need to get outside? TRISH! 

TRISH: 

      (nonchalantly removes a single headphone) 

 Calm down Jess. Don’t worry about..it happens all the time. 

Distant Voice: 

Charge to 250! Again! AGAIN!!

(beeping becomes steady again alarms quiet)

JESS: 

(Sitting up against the bed. Sighing and runs her fingers through her hair. picks up a picture which has been poorly thrown under the bed up. And looks at it.)

How...how long has it been?

  TRISH: 

Donno, I lost count....ever since...it’s been a blur. Don’t worry about it Jess. He’s fine, I’m fine, were all fine! Don’t worry. 

(reinserting headphone) 

JESS: 

(JESS crouches down on her hands getting level with TRISH’S face. In one quick movement she yanks her headphones out) 

 No. No trish! You are not okay! You might say you’re okay. The teachers might believe you are okay. Your friends might believe that you are okay! But you are MY best friend. I grew up with you! I know you’re not okay so stop pretending you are. Do you understand! I want to be here for you. I don’t want you to deal with this alone anymore. TRISH! TRISH! 

(Shaking Her)

TRISH: 

 Jess I think you should leave. Please stop worrying about it. I AM fine.

Jess: 

    (Sighing) 

Fine Trish. I’ll leave. Let me know when you can’t fake being fine anymore. 

(Gets up. Grabs bag. and walks out of the room) 

TRISH:

(TRISH getting up and picking up book. Throwing it on the bed she sits down on the edge.)

Your fine. Your fine. Trish you are fine. (elbows on knees and hands covering eyes) It’s going to be fine. (sobbing starts) We are all fine. WE (sob) Are. (sob) Fine. (curling up into fetal position and falling onto the bed still sobbing) 

Lights fade out. End Scene. 

Act 1: Scene 2 

A poorly lit room. A women sitting in a chair next to a bed with a man laying in it. The man is hooked up many machines. flashing lights/beeping sounds/ a pump going up and down. Tubes extend from the machines and hook up to him. The woman in a bathrobe, hair a mess, clutching the hand of the man. A Doctor moves a stethoscope on the mans chest. 

DOCTOR: 

(Sitting next to the woman)

MaM...I hate to bring this up but it has been seven months. Your husband is not coming back to you. His heart stopped again today and he is in liver failure, we can keep him on dialysis but... 

LAURA: 

He just had a little setback today. He’s getting better he’s going to come back from this. 

DOCTOR: 

Laura...It’s been a hard seven months, I think you need to think about what your doing. Are you sure this is what your husband wants. (Gets up, starts walking out of the room. Stops at the door, looks back at Laura.) Are you sure he would want this? (Exits room) 

LAURA: 

  (sobbing)

Baby...Baby please baby! Just hold on a little bit longer. The doctors didn’t believe you would survive this long and you have. Baby your a fighter you want to live. I know you will survive this. Just you wait. You’re going to wake up. Your going to be fine. You’re going to help me raise our kids. Your going to be fine. This family is going to go back to being normal. Your going to be fine. (Sobbing harder) Baby please be fine. I need you. 

(light comes up on the doorway to reveal GRANT who has been standing there the entire time. A sneer across his face. Arms clutched in a tense manner. Jaw tense. Leaning up against the doorway. All dark clothing) 

GRANT: 

Your talking to a corpse mom. Don’t you get it he can’t hear you. He’s not going to respond. Your husband is dead. 

LAURA: 

(Tensing, standing up crossing to the middle of the room obviously enraged) 

How dare you Grant! How dare you say that about your father. After all he’s done for you..after all he’s sacrificed...after all the love he gave you! How the hell can you stand here and tell me he is dead. How can you lose hope so damn fast? How can you sit here and just believe he will never come back to us! Did you not love him? Were you not the son he did everything with? How can you have such little hope in the man who raised you. 

(GRANT leaves the doorway, walks across the room and stands over his father. LAURA follows him. Putting her hand on his back she pulls him into a hug. 

LAURA: 

Tell him you love him Grant. Tell him you believe that he will get better. He needs to hear it from you. He needs it. Grant please tell him. 

GRANT: 

(Pushing his mother off of him. She falls to the floor. Glances down sneers) 

That man stopped being my father the night of the accident. That. man. Is. NOT. my. father.

(Storms out of the room)

LAURA: 

(picking herself up off the floor and stumbles back to the chair. Throwing herself into the chair she returns to her original position. She continues to sob. Lights dim. One light turns on focusing on a clock in the room. 

End Scene

Act 1: Scene 3

From 10 P.M. it speeds up until it stops at 1:45 in the morning. lights light up the stage dimly.TRISH walks into the room quietly, opens a cabinet and begins rummaging through it. Pulling out medicine bottles they rattle as the unknown person pockets bottle after bottle. They pause uncap one bottle, shakes it lightly and downs the content in their hand. Sighing they recap the bottle and put it in their pocket with the others and turn to leave. LAURA who has fallen asleep still clutching her husbands hand begins to stir and the person stops in their tracks.

LAURA: 

      (Sleepily)

Who....Who’s there. Is someone there. Turn around so I can see who you are. 

      (TRISH turns around keeping head down)

Trish? Trish is that you? Oh Trish have you come to talk to your father? How sweet of you. You were always the best child. Don’t tell Grant but your daddy loved you the best. Come, Trish, come sit with your daddy and me. Come tell him that you love him just like you did every night before you went to bed. Tell your daddy to get better. 

TRISH: 

  (going up to LAURA. Brushing the mangled hair from her face) 

Mom....you need to leave this room. You haven’t left for weeks. Dad will be fine. You need to get out of this dark room. It’s driving you crazy. Your dying in this room. Just like dad is. Watching dad dying is killing you. Please leave this room! Do it for me? Do it for Grant? Be the anchor you once were. You were so strong what happened?

LAURA: 

(Clasping TRISH’S hands) 

Baby I need to be here when your dad wakes up. He’s going to wake up soon baby. Tell him you are waiting for him to wake up. 

(Dragging TRISH towards bed. TRISH struggles but LAURA doesn’t notice. Wrapping her arms around TRISH. LAURA sits down so TRISH  is sitting in her lap. LAURA’s movement are jerky as she takes the limp hand and puts it in Trish’s hand. TRISH recoils at the touch by holds on anyway.) 

Trish! Trish. Tell your daddy you love him and you can’t wait for him to get better. Tell him you miss him! Tell him baby tell your daddy. 

TRISH:

(Tears sliding down face) 

Da...da...daddy I l...lo..love you. 

LAURA: 

(whispering in daughters ear) 

Tell your daddy you want him to wake up. Tell him you want him to wake up so you can be his little girl again. 

TRISH: 

  (sobbing intensifies)

Da..daddy please....wake......u...p 

(Jumps up, runs from room sobbing. Slamming the door behind her. Lara returns to the position she had started out in. On the other side of the door, TRISH takes one of the bottles she took out of her pocket and tries to uncap it but her hands are shaking so much she spills them all over the floor. Scrambling to pick them up she doesn’t notice Grant walking towards her. He stoops down and scoops up a handful of pills and drops them into her hand. They make eye contact. 

GRANT: 

Look at you Trish. Your falling apart. She needs to find out. We need to tell her. Trish....it was my fault...we need to tell her. 

TRISH: 

(Dropping the eye contact) 

No, No. Grant No. We are fine. I am fine. You are fine. Stop thinking we are not fine! 

(Stands up and pushes past her brother.Leaving him leaning up against the wall with his hands on his head.) 

The Unnamed play

 Name Of Play

A Full-Length Play 

By Nicolina Kristof

Cast list: 

TRISH: the daughter. keeping a secret. on the outside she looks fine. on the inside she is a wreck. 

JESS: Trish’s friend

LAURA: the grieving wife of a man who is brain dead. Not coping with this well. 

GRANT: the son. Angry for an unknown reason. Acts like his dad is dead. 

CURT: the comatose husband. Never talks or moves. 

Act 1: Scene 1 

A bedroom, overly elaborate. Trophies occupying ever space on a large bookshelf placed next to the bed. TRISH and JESS sit in the room. TRISH sitting on the floor listening to her music one headphone in. JESS on the bed. 

JESS: 

(Looking up from a book)

Hey,(Pauses)HEY Trish. (Trish looks up) What did you get on the bio test? 

TRISH: 

Eh....a 34. 

JESS: 

Out of a hundred...Trish....You never get F’s. You should talk to Mr. C. I’m sure he will let you retake the test just cause of what’s going on right now. 

TRISH: 

No it’s fine. 

          JESS:

(Loud alarm sounds. JESS startled. Jumps off the bed Shaking TRISH)

TRISH! TRISH! what’s going on! Is the house on fire? Do we need to get outside? TRISH! 

TRISH: 

      (nonchalantly removes a single headphone) 

 Calm down Jess. Don’t worry about..it happens all the time. 

JESS: 

(Sitting up against the bed. Sighing and runs her fingers through her hair. picks up a picture which has been poorly thrown under the bed up. And looks at it.)

How...how long has it been?

  TRISH: 

Donno, I lost count....ever since...it’s been a blur. Don’t worry about it Jess. He’s fine, I’m fine, were all fine! Don’t worry. 

(reinserting headphone) 

JESS: 

(JESS crouches down on her hands getting level with TRISH’S face. In one quick movement she yanks her headphones out) 

 No. No trish! You are not okay! You might say you’re okay. The teachers might believe you are okay. Your friends might believe that you are okay! But you are MY best friend. I grew up with you! I know you’re not okay so stop pretending you are. Do you understand! I want to be here for you. I don’t want you to deal with this alone anymore. TRISH! TRISH! 

(Shaking Her)

TRISH: 

 Jess I think you should leave. Please stop worrying about it. I AM fine.

Jess: 

    (Sighing) 

Fine Trish. I’ll leave. Let me know when you can’t fake being fine anymore. 

(Gets up. Grabs bag. and walks out of the room) 

TRISH:

(TRISH getting up and picking up book. Throwing it on the bed she sits down on the edge.)

Your fine. Your fine. Trish you are fine. (elbows on knees and hands covering eyes) It’s going to be fine. (sobbing starts) We are all fine. WE (sob) Are. (sob) Fine. (curling up into fetal position and falling onto the bed still sobbing) 

Lights fade out. End Scene. 

Act 1: Scene 2 

A poorly lit room. A women sitting in a chair next to a bed with a man laying in it. The man is hooked up many machines. flashing lights/beeping sounds/ a pump going up and down. Tubes extend from the machines and hook up to him. The woman in a bathrobe, hair a mess, clutching the hand of the man. A Doctor moves a stethoscope on the mans chest. 

DOCTOR: 

(Sitting next to the woman)

MaM...I hate to bring this up but it has been seven months. Your husband is not coming back to you. His liver shut down today, we can keep him on dialysis but... 

LAURA: 

He just had a little setback today. He’s getting better he’s going to come back from this. 

DOCTOR: 

Laura...It’s been a hard seven months, I think you need to think about what your doing. Are you sure this is what your husband wants. (Gets up, starts walking out of the room. Stops at the door, looks back at Laura.) Are you sure he would want this? (Exits room) 

LAURA: 

  (sobbing)

Baby...Baby please baby! Just hold on a little bit longer. The doctors didn’t believe you would survive this long and you have. Baby your a fighter you want to live. I know you will survive this. Just you wait. You’re going to wake up. Your going to be fine. You’re going to help me raise our kids. Your going to be fine. This family is going to go back to being normal. Your going to be fine. (Sobbing harder) Baby please be fine. I need you. 

(light comes up on the doorway to reveal GRANT who has been standing there the entire time. A sneer across his face. Arms clutched in a tense manner. Jaw tense. Leaning up against the doorway. All dark clothing) 

GRANT: 

Your talking to a corpse mom. Don’t you get it he can’t hear you. He’s not going to respond. Your husband is dead. 

LAURA: 

(Tensing, standing up crossing to the middle of the room obviously enraged) 

How dare you Grant! How dare you say that about your father. After all he’s done for you..after all he’s sacrificed...after all the love he gave you! How the hell can you stand here and tell me he is dead. How can you lose hope so damn fast? How can you sit here and just believe he will never come back to us! Did you not love him? Were you not the son he did everything with? How can you have such little hope in the man who raised you. 

(GRANT leaves the doorway, walks across the room and stands over his father. LAURA follows him. Putting her hand on his back she pulls him into a hug. 

LAURA: 

Tell him you love him Grant. Tell him you believe that he will get better. He needs to hear it from you. He needs it. Grant please tell him. 

GRANT: 

(Pushing his mother off of him. She falls to the floor. Glances down sneers) 

That man stopped being my father the night of the accident. That. man. Is. NOT. my. father.

(Storms out of the room)

LAURA: 

(picking herself up off the floor and stumbles back to the chair. Throwing herself into the chair she returns to her original position. She continues to sob. Lights dim. One light turns on focusing on a clock in the room. 

End Scene

Act 1: Scene 3

From 10 P.M. it speeds up until it stops at 1:45 in the morning. lights light up the stage dimly.TRISH walks into the room quietly, opens a cabinet and begins rummaging through it. Pulling out medicine bottles they rattle as the unknown person pockets bottle after bottle. They pause uncap one bottle, shakes it lightly and downs the content in their hand. Sighing they recap the bottle and put it in their pocket with the others and turn to leave. LAURA who has fallen asleep still clutching her husbands hand begins to stir and the person stops in their tracks.

LAURA: 

      (Sleepily)

Who....Who’s there. Is someone there. Turn around so I can see who you are. 

      (TRISH turns around keeping head down)

Trish? Trish is that you? Oh Trish have you come to talk to your father? How sweet of you. You were always the best child. Don’t tell Grant but your daddy loved you the best. Come, Trish, come sit with your daddy and me. Come tell him that you love him just like you did every night before you went to bed. Tell your daddy to get better. 

TRISH: 

  (going up to LAURA. Brushing the mangled hair from her face) 

Mom....you need to leave this room. You haven’t left for weeks. Dad will be fine. You need to get out of this dark room. It’s driving you crazy. Your dying in this room. Just like dad is. Watching dad dying is killing you. Please leave this room! Do it for me? Do it for Grant? Be the anchor you once were. You were so strong what happened. Please leave this room.

LAURA: 

(Clasping TRISH’S hands) 

Baby I need to be here when your dad wakes up. He’s going to wake up soon baby. Tell him you are waiting for him to wake up. 

(Dragging TRISH towards bed. TRISH struggles but LAURA doesn’t notice. Wrapping her arms around TRISH. LAURA sits down so TRISH  is sitting in her lap. LAURA’s movement are jerky as she takes the limp hand and puts it in Trish’s hand. TRISH recoils at the touch by holds on anyway.) 

Trish! Trish. Tell your daddy you love him and you can’t wait for him to get better. Tell him you miss him! Tell him baby tell your daddy. 

TRISH:

(Tears sliding down face) 

Da...da...daddy I l...lo..love you. 

LAURA: 

(whispering in daughters ear) 

Tell your daddy you want him to wake up. Tell him you want him to wake up so you can be his little girl again. 

TRISH: 

  (sobbing intensifies)

Da..daddy please....wake......u...p 

(Jumps up, runs from room sobbing. Slamming the door behind her. Lara returns to the position she had started out in. On the other side of the door, TRISH takes one of the bottles she took out of her pocket and tries to uncap it but her hands are shaking so much she spills them all over the floor. Scrambling to pick them up she doesn’t notice Grant walking towards her. He stoops down and scoops up a handful of pills and drops them into her hand. They make eye contact. 

GRANT: 

Look at you Trish. Your falling apart. She needs to find out. We need to tell her. Trish....it was my fault...we need to tell her. 

TRISH: 

(Dropping the eye contact) 

No, No. Grant No. We are fine. I am fine. You are fine. Stop thinking we are not fine! 

(Stands up and pushes past her brother.Leaving him leaning up against the wall with his hands on his head.) 

Act 1: Scene 4 

Writing in Public Places!

As I was reading "Writing in Public Places", I started to wish I possessed the ability to "genuinely love and look forward to writing" like the author said she did. It made me question why I never liked journaling. Maybe it is because I feel as if I have no stories to tell like peers my age. No stories to tell or people to talk about because I find myself feeling isolated and out of the loop. If that is the reason, maybe I hate journals because I hate feeling alone and I don't want to share with a journal my social struggles and challenges which have haunted me since childhood. But back to the book.
It is obvious that this author is not fond of keeping a journal one a computer. To say she dislikes journaling on a computer is an understatement and I can see why. When I read books on the Ipad, I long to have a hard copy in my hand. In a way, I feel like annotating on a Kindle takes away from the annotation itself and adds pressure to the reader to make a concise formal annotation instead of a short sentence that is nonsense to everyone except the writer. Maybe its the knowledge that your annotation can be longer because you are not confine to the small space not taken up by words. I don't know.
I can't really understand how a writer gets anything accomplished in a public setting. Whenever I try to get work done in a public place I am constantly distracted. I want to know who is walking past me. Where they are looking. What they are wearing. What they are doing. And more. Because of this I can't really understand the reason she and other authors likes writing in public

Idea for a play: 

Trish - Main character (seemingly perfect, but tends to be quiet and recently glum)

Jesse - Her friend 

Suzanne- mother 

Josh - brother 

Gram - father 

Nurses - extras 

The play will take place in a max of three rooms: Trish’s bedroom, Kitchen, her fathers room. 

Overview of plot: Trish is a teenage girl who is just trying to keep her life together when it all seems to be falling apart. Her dad is a vegetable only being kept alive by monitors and machines. Her mother has fallen into a deep depression over the past year and her brother is very rarely ever home and when he is he pretends like her father is already gone. Trish doesn’t know what to think, with her mom completely out of it and a brother who barely talks to her. 

Next idea: 

The play is about a girl who sneaks out of her bedroom window every night and finds that she has a passion for tagging. 

Next Idea: 

The play revolves around a couple halfway through an argument. As he play goes on the audience will realize that the argument is more then the credit card bill. 

A Sea of Blue Ink

While reading this piece I could not help but wonder if this was one of the authors last entries in one of her journals. At first I was a tad bit skeptical about this author when she stated, "The point of this journal is to record parts of my life I would otherwise forget" which made me wonder, "how could you possibly think that you might forget the fact that your nephew was dead". Non the less I ended up warming up to her and ended up liking her entry much more then the previous entry we read.

I really liked how over time she came to the realization that over time her writing developed and showed evidence that she had changed and grown into a different person compared to the person who first started out writing in a journal. I also liked how she titled her work. I wish that I could flip through these pages and try to figure out where the title of each journal originated from.

I would agree that her journals did make her a better person. How could they not? In them contained past mistakes she could learn from, a way to cope with her problems, a way to accept the things she could not change, and a place to express what she really wanted from life and from others. This seems like a very helpful tool when it comes to navigating and her entry has forced me to consider keeping a journal of my own even though I have never felt much use for them before today.

I never knew that someone could change my life so drastically until the day I met her. She was fearless, quirky, and energetic. My first encounter with her happened by chance. It just so happened that that very day my mom had watched a television show about how kids should have at least an hour of outside time a day. With her newly gained knowledge she confiscated my books and pushed me outside into the warm, sunny day. I grumbled. Why did I never have a say in my activities. Why should I be forced to walk around in the hot sun when I much would have rather been sitting on my bed, as the air conditioning hummed above me, traveling into one of many alternate realities I could escape to through my books. I would much rather be running through the South American rainforest looking for the land of the lost people in my mind, than dismally walking down the block as the sun beat down on me. Walking by the school playground, I saw her. I had never seen her before, not that I saw much of anyone due to the fact that I had been home schooled my whole life. But her worn jeans with so many holes in them that one more rip would turn the pant leg into shorts and eccentric blending of layered shirts made her stick out like a sore thumb in our small town of uptight, preppy and privileged kids. 

That is when she turned her head and smiled at me. Suddenly I felt self conscious about the 200 dollar pants my mom had insisted I wear and the ironed polo shirt. I must have looked just like the kids I can’t stand.  

Response One

I thought that this piece in the reading was very cool. I thought it was interesting how the author used moments from the past to help create an idea and plot for a book he was creating at the time. In the beginning he said that others may look at his notebook as incoherent and messy but obviously. It seems to me that the naked writing he did when his defenses were down allowed him to create an idea that he had scribbled onto many pages along with ideas that were maybe not worth writing down.