This class inspires me to look at writing as a concept, instead of physical words. It is truly an art and an outlet to express all the emotions brewing inside of you. I wish this class was even longer, due to the bonds we all created. I think it's safe to say that this was something special. We all shared our story through the gift of writing. Sabatino helped us mold these blogs into digital versions of ourselves.
I learned that everyone you meet has a story. When we walked into that class we were all strangers, who came out as friends. This class opened new ideas and expressions, each day was different. Most classes I feel are very repetitive, teachers just spit out the same information to you, just like the last one. This class was different. Sabatino molded each class personally for the students. He knew how we wrote, and taught in a way that we would all understand. I can't thank him enough for his enthusiasm, he really does deserve an A. If we had a sad boring teacher for this class instead of him, we all would all still be strangers.
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Hi I'm Kim, and I'd just like to make a few points about how your article is totally wrong. Like seriously you don't even understand. You probably have like no followers and no life. Instagram is my life! I have so many followers and friends, my latest pic just got 2,000 likes. Scrolling through social media gives me my culture. I can view a ladies page from France and see what she's up too! I can look at posts from my uncle's wedding that I wasn't invited too because he's a loser. My page is 89% selfies and the rest are my avocado toast, but it's so interesting. Social media connects all people around the world! We can learn about news going on in Australia when were a million miles away! Oh crap I just spilled my pumpkin spiced latte, I should snap that.
I'm sorry for your loss. I can try to understand that it's hard to get over the fact that you don't rule the world. It's hard to grasp that women are strong and smart, and can take care of themselves. We're not just meaningless fighting sex toys on TV. I can understand your fear of change, it's hard to stand down. You've had us tied around your finger like a nice pink bow, but now it's time to loosen your grip. We have the power to control our own destiny, not clean your house and make your babies. Again I'm sorry for your loss, control is no longer yours.Now, how about I buy you dinner.
I never decided to go over Bubble's house to visit after so many years. I never watered her plants as an excuse just to see her, when she was slowly dying. That I didn't continue my visits regularly for two years till she died. That I never stayed with her during those painful nights, holding her hand. That I never played our countless card games of Rummy. That I never made her pies or quiche, and left her alone. I never gave her the company she deserved. We both just carried on through our lives separately. What if I didn't remind her of the daughter that passed. I never wandered through that patch of woods, to Bubble's house. What if I wasn't meant to help her cross over. What if I wasn't there when she died, and she passed with her family. What if I never made that painting to the window of her soul. I just wandered through life, thinking I'm the center of the universe. That my biggest problems in life were my Spanish essay and friend drama. What if I just was a normal teenage girl, without a care in the world.
What if. You have no idea how much it means to me that you're here for my last moments. I've been waiting for you. Like I told you before, I started slowly dying when you came along, you're like an Angel of Death. They pumped me full of this medicine so I can no longer feel that deathly pain. All I feel is numb. I can hear you talking about your day, I would like to talk about mine, but nothing much has happened. The poems you speak of are beautiful, I got that book for my son a long time ago. Please don't cry, for it will only be a moment till we meet again. I love you so much, you made my last days something special. I can see my mother now, taking my hand, ready to send me away. You need to let go, I am not afraid. The picture has been turned, my window has been opened. I can feel my soul raising from my body. Now I can see you, standing next to me, holding my hand tears in your eyes.
I love you, I'll see you soon deary. Love, Bubbles In this piece I will discuss my personal views on the films Miss Representation and The Mask You Live In. They uncover the truth of society's view on women, and how media molds the public eye. It is a sad enlightened truth, that the world we live in is repressed by degrading standards.
While watching these two films, I felt angry and vengeful (in a positive way). I don’t mean I wanna give a wedgie to every man in the world, just to put the bad ones in their place. It also makes me sad that the reality we live in is morphed by the media. This mass source of communication is diluted with selling the ideal of beauty. People see their idols half naked on TV, throwing themselves at anything with a pulse, and think it’s quality living. I just wanna know who’s in control of the media, and have a nice long conversation about respecting both men and women. These films make me think about all the young girls watching these so called “roll models”, and starving and painting themselves in their image. If women new how truly beautiful they were, without all the makeup, self tanning, extreme dieting, and all the other unnatural beauty supplements, the world would be happier. Beauty is just one part of the issue, the world praises the mirror too much. We should be focused on helping one another, not looking better than the other. If we cut the stress of what we physically look like, the world could conquer so many obstacles. We need to focus on ideas and philosophies, to educate the people in this modern society. This film inspires me to shoot for the stars. It lights the fire in me to go the extra mile. To show all the people who can’t see past my curly hair, that I actually have a brain under here. I want to firmly shake the hand of every pasty politician and show them that women can be amazing leaders. We should be judged on our moral character, not our weight or smile. I want to influence young girls, and show them that their beautiful in every way. That beauty comes in all shapes, colors, and sizes, just like pasta. I want to explain to men that it’s okay to be sensitive, humble and kind, that kindness is more admirable than abs any day. In this vlog I discuss my writing process, growth, and thoughts in my English class. These two videos are exactly the same, but I couldn't choose between black and white with rock and roll, or bubbles with classical music (my two personalities, or writers self and true self). So I'm gonna get you to decide. I hope you enjoy my thoughts and feelings on the writing process. This is a Tale about my Narrative Project presentation. I re-created the moment in class to a mystical fairy tale. The emotion is still there, but it's just covered in pixie dust and glitter.
Once Upon a Time, there was a water fairy named Angeluna. She flew above the rolling hills into the Mystic Forest to a celebration of life for Bubbles, The Queen of the Wood. Bubbles and Angeluna grew very close in her last years. They would laugh and talk about all the secret wonders of the world. At the celebration of Life, Angeluna prepared a speech about the night Bubbles died. She wasn't nervous, for she knew that the Holla Kingdom was kind and understanding. All her friends were gathered around an old willow tree, where Bubbles spent her last days. Even Angeluna’s professor was there, Sabini, the Elf of Wisdom. He welcomed her to the gathering where all the mermaids, pixies, talking chipmunks, dwarfs, and nymphs sat and listened. Before she began her speech, the day turned into night, and the moon was glowing brightly. The whole forest was silent, except for her small voice. She dove right into the night, getting the same sense of peace and sadness that overcame her when Bubble’s died. She wanted to give this speech her all, The Queen deserves these wonderful beings to know. As she reads the part about Bubble’s smile, each word becomes more of a challenge. The image of The Wood Queen is now flashing by her eyes. She can hear her laughing and smiling, and feels a sense of relief. Angeluna goes back to the time when she last saw Bubbles, laying on a bed of orange moss, peacefully watching the clouds roll by. Angeluna could only stay for a minute, and had way less important things to do, that she now can’t even recall. Bubble’s held her hand and said “I love you”. Those were the last words she spoke to her. Angeluna describes the chaotic scene when Bubbles died. The two good medicine witches, who were helping the Queen, lost all sense of control. They were holding on to her soul, to sad to let Bubble’s go. Angeluna had to calm them down and tell them to let her go, that they can’t anchor her to this world. Together, they spoke more peacefully, the tears and loving words surrounded The Queen like soft air. Bubble’s soul rose up like white smoke to the clouds above, peacefully and perfectly. When Angeluna finishes her story, she notices the chipmunks and pixies are crying. She feels bad for making everyone sad, she did'nt mean too. But Bubble’s was such a wonderful person, this moment impacted her greatly. The Wise Elf thanked her, and they all watched Bubbles soul glisten around them. They all understood the world a little more, and lived happily ever after. In this post I connect three clips from the Wizard of Oz to my Narrative project.
If I only had a Brain, Heart, Nerve ; Meeting the Wizard ; You’ve always had the Power in these links, the videos highlight the main aspects of the movie. My narrative allows me to travel into my brain, by focusing on certain details that were not obvious in the moment itself. The symbol of the dove flying toward the window is a big connection I've made in my life now. This writing piece helped me explore my emotions immensely. The same sadness rushed through me just as it had that night. My emotions now are the same, but I've learned to move forward and let go. I think my narrative explored the nerve element when I was brave enough to let her go. At first I was so afraid to never talk to her again, to never hear her laugh or smile. In that moment I had to be brave, everyone else around me was falling to pieces, I was the only one left to pick them up. Re-examining this life event made me realize all the symbolism in effect. From turning the page of the dove, the poems, and the air gusting through the door, this night was filled with unspoken messages. I believe the stories we tell ourselves about the life event shapes our sense of identity. My friend and I experienced the same exact moment in time, but had two completely different roles. Tabbi didn't know Bubbles, and was mainly there for me. I asked about her personal perspective of the event, and it was completely different from my own. She was standing to the side watching the emotional chous explode. Tabbi noticed things that went way over my head in the moment. She noted how I was talking to Bubble’s, like nothing changed. She also was aware of the nurses loss of control, and how they were screaming and crying. She thought how impactful Bubble’s was to have these people react like this. She too was emotional during this time, it was her own personal experience. The following piece is inspired by Hills Like White Elephants (Ernest Hemingway). In my story and Hemingway's, symbolism is heavily used. The value of light and dark is incorporated in both scenes. In "Hills Like White Elephants", the woman has to conquer a hard decision, as her lover pushes and shoves to make a certain choice. The relationship in "Hills Like White Elephants" inspired me to write about my own.
It’s late July, I’m taking a bath and my mom knocks on the door, and says that Dan’s here. Oh God I think, how am I going to do this. My moms says “Don’t be rude Angelina! That boy is waiting down there for you.” I slowly get up into a towel and make my way to my room. I get ready, dreading what awaits downstairs. I choose a black and white skater dress with converse, something easy to run in. I fly down the stairs ripping off the awkward band aid. Dan and my brother Dominic are sitting there stiffly on the couch, staring at the TV screen. He’s in his work clothes, all black, and immediately stands up at the sight of me. Dominic gives me a “good luck” smirk as Dan and I make our way out the door, into his little beat up green car which we traveled near and far in. The car ride back to his house is mostly silent, he knew what was coming, and so did I. We have some awkward chit chat, talking about our day, and our surroundings. I instantly regret not dropping the bomb at my house, but he insisted on me coming over. We pull into his driveway, and his dog Rocky awaits us barking like a pitbull, but he’s only a little beagle. I look at Rocky and feel sadness rush through my body, I love that little guy. Dan and I walk up to his room, in the attic, the smell of weed and paint hits me in the face like a truck. I look around and see all the art work we created. His is dark and full of intense colors and rough shapes. My work is more light and earthy, full of color. Our hand prints are covered all over the room, mine blue and his red, the paintings are covered from floor to ceiling. I look at what I created, a giant golden tree on top of a dew drop, with roots growing over the ball of water. We sit down and look at eachother. I feel out of my skin and want to jump out the window. “Listen Dan, I’m sorry but I don’t know what to say” “What do you mean” he says “I feel like we’re going nowhere, like we’re in a loop.” “You’re saying this because of what Lyn said arent you!” “What ? No we were both there when you exploded, she just noticed your dark side as well” “I swear, I want to hurt her” “What?” “Not like that, I just feel like she is telling you all this shit about me” “This isn't about her this is about us!” I say He sits there for a minute, thinks, and finally says “I have one question for you: what will make you happy?” “Being as far away from you,” I think to myself “I don't know” “What do you mean you don’t know!” he screams "I'd like to be laying on the beach by the ocean right now, that would make me happy" "BE SERIOUS" “I don’t know Dan, I’m happy being with you, because I feel like I’m making YOU happy. I feel like I’m still in this because I don’t want to upset you, I don’t want to hurt you.” “You saying that makes it so much worse” he says with a sigh “I’m sorry “For what!?” “For hurting you! I want to do this as painless as possible! I’m sorry” the thought of hurting an innocent soul pained me. “There is no painless way to break up with someone, stop acting like this” “I’m sorry!” “STOP SAYING YOU’RE SORRY” “Okay….sorry” “Why! Just tell me why” he whines “I feel like you don’t love me, that you love the idea of being in love” I said with guilt. I was talking about myself, not him. “What do you mean! I tell you how I feel all the time, you’re the only thing that makes me happy. You know what, I think you’re the one who doesn't know how to feel” “You're right” “So it’s you not me” “Dan you told me you were in love with me a week after we first hung out” “That doesn't matter” “DAN we’ve been dating for 3 months! “ “That doesn't matter!” I think for a moment, how do you tell someone why you don’t like them, in THAT kind of way? When we hang out together, I get this little voice in my head telling me to run, that he’s evil. I immediately think I’m crazy and contemplated calling one of those over the phone therapists. But, it’s everything, I don't feel safe, I feel out of my skin. There’s so much hidden dark inside of him, it slowly comes out. I notice it in his artwork, he draws bloody, dark things. At first I thought it was just his style, but I realized that’s who he truly is on the inside. I feel like I’m being drained, pulling me down with him. I want to be there for him during this darkness, but I’m afraid he is the darkness. So I told him just that. “You think I’m evil?” “No I just think you’re going through a weird part in your life” “You know what Angelina, you’re not perfect, you think I’m evil, well guess what you are, you're like a Siren. One of those beautiful mermaids who lures you in, and then drags you into the ocean and drowns you” I sit there, letting him rant. He says “I’m sorry I said that, but I’m not sorry, we can fix this okay, we can work this out” “I’m sorry you see me that way, I’m not intentionally trying to hurt you. When we met in English class I felt like I knew you already, that we instantly clicked.” “When you would call me on the phone, I would think to myself, wow this girl actually loves me, was any of that real?” “Yes! Of course, Dan I’ll always care for you, but I don’t know if I can be what you want. I feel like the emotions I felt came into bursts, like I had to force them to be there. ” “Was anything you felt for me real?” “I don’t know” “STOP SAYING THAT” “I dont think it’s gonna just magically workout” “What do you want! Just say it! Just fucking say it” he screams “Dan, we’re breaking up” He looks at me, starts crying, and yelling and throwing things. I start feeling sorry and want to put my arms around him to comfort him. But then he starts acting like a pissed off toddler with a poopy diaper. I just sit there, trying not to laugh, I can’t handle people when they’re being dramatic. “I hate when you do that, when you laugh at awkward situations!” “Dan, just sit here for a minute, instead of blowing up like this just talk it out okay?” “Are you fucking serious!” “Stop calm down, please calm down!” He throws a shoe at me, but completely misses, and keeps screaming. This time I laugh. I feel terrible for doing this but I really can’t control it. I’m giggling to hide my fear. Laughing in the face of danger. I feel like I’m in an out-of-body experience. He’s putting on a show and I’m the audience, but I definitely bought the wrong ticket. I tell him “I can’t help it! You're acting like we’re married! We’ve been dating for 3 months!” “Fuck this” he says Dan jumps out the window. There’s a flat porch roof about 10 feet long outside of it. I go out the window after him and notice that he’s nowhere to be found. I look up and there he is, standing on the top of the attics roof, which is about 8 feet higher than the surface I’m standing on. “Dan what are you doing?” I can’t help it, I always laugh at very awkward or intense moments. Also he’s just so dramatic, I feel like I’m in a sitcom. “Dan, just talk to me!” He says nothing and quickly paces back and forth on the roof, balancing on the edge, like the tip of a triangle. “Dan please come down, I’m sorry, can we talk about this more, please come down please. Stop acting like it’s the end of the world” I contemplate if he’s actually human, I’m pretty sure no one can run back and forth on the tip of a roof without something extra. “How did you even get up there dude?” “I don’t know, I have a lot of adrenaline right now!” While he looks down at the ground from the roof, I scream and scream for him to be rational. He finally listens to me, and jumps all the way down to the surface I’m on. “What was that?” I say “I wasn't gonna really do it” “Okay, but what was that.” “Can we talk about this more? I feel like we can work it out?” He says “I don’t think I’m gonna change my mind, I feel our lives will be better a part” “If you walk out that door, I’ll know it’s over” I look at him, give him a hug, and walk down the stairs. I pass all our artwork we spent hours and hours on. As I’m walking through his house I can hear him screaming. I’m almost at the door and I see his sister Lila, wearing the same smirk as my little brother. I throw her a peace sign and walk out the door. We were each other's first relationship. Even though I broke up with him, I took it really hard. I kept feeling so bad for hurting him, and wanted to get back together to make him happy. But I knew in my heart I’d be a bad person if I did that, I couldn't lead him on. For some reason as I was broken, trying to pick up the pieces, I listened to Mr. Blue Sky about 140 times. |
-Angelina-
I will use this blog as an outlet for my ideas and emotions. |