Monday, November 14, 2011
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Week 10
Opinion Piece
Halloween, one of the whole points of the holiday is to dress up and look scary, right??
Well, all I see on Halloween are pictures of girls in tiny, "slutty," costumes.
Sexy army girl, sexy late night nurse, sexy Nile goddess, sweet and sexy vampire.."
Just a few of the costume names out of hundreds for women. Last time I checked.. army girls were supposed to be tough.. not sexy..
Late night nurse? Sounds like a woman in scrubs, living off of coffee and trying not to fall asleep in a hospital before her shift is over. The Nile, a river talked about in the Bible.. and a vampire.. sweet AND sexy?? Vampires are supposed to be frightening with fangs and blood everywhere.
Not to mention, the most ridiculous aspect is that it is pretty chilly in October, yet girls run around with their skin all exposed, freezing there a**'s off.
Halloween, one of the whole points of the holiday is to dress up and look scary, right??
Well, all I see on Halloween are pictures of girls in tiny, "slutty," costumes.
Sexy army girl, sexy late night nurse, sexy Nile goddess, sweet and sexy vampire.."
Just a few of the costume names out of hundreds for women. Last time I checked.. army girls were supposed to be tough.. not sexy..
Late night nurse? Sounds like a woman in scrubs, living off of coffee and trying not to fall asleep in a hospital before her shift is over. The Nile, a river talked about in the Bible.. and a vampire.. sweet AND sexy?? Vampires are supposed to be frightening with fangs and blood everywhere.
Not to mention, the most ridiculous aspect is that it is pretty chilly in October, yet girls run around with their skin all exposed, freezing there a**'s off.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Week 9
What If
Any man could be a father, but it takes a real man to be a dad.
Marriage is a 50/50 kind of situation. 50% chance a husband and wife will stay together, 50% chance they will get a divorce. There is no way to predict what could possibly happen between two people who are "in love," whatever that means.
Since I was three months old, I have lived with my mom and her only. I've grown up in believing a family only contains one parent, and honestly I am perfectly okay with that thought. My papa is my "dad" and I cannot imagine it any other way. My mom has been there for me emotionally and financially through out my entire life.. my dad, has not.
What if...
What if?
What if my dad had actually been there for me when I needed him?
Any man could be a father, but it takes a real man to be a dad.
Marriage is a 50/50 kind of situation. 50% chance a husband and wife will stay together, 50% chance they will get a divorce. There is no way to predict what could possibly happen between two people who are "in love," whatever that means.
Since I was three months old, I have lived with my mom and her only. I've grown up in believing a family only contains one parent, and honestly I am perfectly okay with that thought. My papa is my "dad" and I cannot imagine it any other way. My mom has been there for me emotionally and financially through out my entire life.. my dad, has not.
What if...
What if?
What if my dad had actually been there for me when I needed him?
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Week 7
Structure
He left her laying there on the cold, hard, winter ground. The two boys he had been riding with sped off as soon as he hit the mustang and she flew off the snowmobile and landed about 15 feet away. Not only did he at first ride off but took the time to come back and move her so it looked like she was the one driving snowmobile. Kyle ran off into the woods as the drivers of the mustang called 911. The first thing the paramedic said when he examined Martina was "she's lucky to be alive."
Kyle had a court date about a year later and within that year he started snorting cocaine and he had raped one of my friends. Also, left a girl up on Chick Hill once he had sex with her in the pouring rain. Kyle is a tall, bulky guy. One that no girl or boy would want to mess with. He is also "crazy," his mood can change in an instant and there is no idea what he could do next. His glasses make him look like a harmless guy, for some, strange reason, glasses always make a person look intelligent and less dangerous. With Kyle, that is total opposite. His body is built enough to make a "tough guy," a coward in seconds.. when he is mad.. he's mad.
I remember talking to Martina one day about Kyle when I went to see how she was doing. "It was the only time I had hung out with him, I never knew he could be so heartless." She explained to me when I asked her about what kind of relationship they had. Scenes popped into my head that I had experienced the year before with Kyle while at a party.
I was sitting at the round table with my three friends playing kings cup when suddenly Scott came bursting through the door. "You guys need to stay in here, I'm serious, why the fuck did I bring Kyle out here?" He questioned himself as he walked back outside. Being three eighteen year old girls, naturally, we went outside on the deck of the house to see what was going on. By the fire pit, there was Kyle holding a hand gun. Not to mention a chain saw was to the right of him on a bench. "Don't fucking come near me Scott, I swear I'll shoot you in the fucking head" Kyle yelled as he held the gun up. Suddenly he started shooting rounds into the air and behind his back without even looking at what he was shooting at. "Get inside" Scott yelled at us, we ran inside, all of us crying.. including his girlfriend. "He's always like this when he drinks.. I hate it, I'm so sorry guys" She said to Nicole and I as we sat side-by-side on a twin bed. Speechless, we all sat there in silence as we listened to Kyle shoot off rounds outside, hoping he wouldn't hit one of the guys. After about two minutes, Kyle stopped shooting the gun and yelling started. Most of it was jumbled together but the one sentence I remember clearly was Craig yelling "what the fuck is wrong with you man?" That's when the screen door came slamming down on the floor with Craig on top of it, Kyle had pushed him so hard it broke the hinges. "I'll fucking kill you man, you don't know what it's like to be me" he screamed at Craig. It took Joey, Scott, Bobby and Jerry to get him off of Craig and out the door. Craig sprinted out and grabbed the gun and chainsaw so Kyle couldn't get a hold of them. Luckily no one was hurt but Kyle was never allowed out to that house ever again.
I glance over at Martina and simply said, "Kyle is heartless, it does not surprise me one bit."
He left her laying there on the cold, hard, winter ground. The two boys he had been riding with sped off as soon as he hit the mustang and she flew off the snowmobile and landed about 15 feet away. Not only did he at first ride off but took the time to come back and move her so it looked like she was the one driving snowmobile. Kyle ran off into the woods as the drivers of the mustang called 911. The first thing the paramedic said when he examined Martina was "she's lucky to be alive."
Kyle had a court date about a year later and within that year he started snorting cocaine and he had raped one of my friends. Also, left a girl up on Chick Hill once he had sex with her in the pouring rain. Kyle is a tall, bulky guy. One that no girl or boy would want to mess with. He is also "crazy," his mood can change in an instant and there is no idea what he could do next. His glasses make him look like a harmless guy, for some, strange reason, glasses always make a person look intelligent and less dangerous. With Kyle, that is total opposite. His body is built enough to make a "tough guy," a coward in seconds.. when he is mad.. he's mad.
I remember talking to Martina one day about Kyle when I went to see how she was doing. "It was the only time I had hung out with him, I never knew he could be so heartless." She explained to me when I asked her about what kind of relationship they had. Scenes popped into my head that I had experienced the year before with Kyle while at a party.
I was sitting at the round table with my three friends playing kings cup when suddenly Scott came bursting through the door. "You guys need to stay in here, I'm serious, why the fuck did I bring Kyle out here?" He questioned himself as he walked back outside. Being three eighteen year old girls, naturally, we went outside on the deck of the house to see what was going on. By the fire pit, there was Kyle holding a hand gun. Not to mention a chain saw was to the right of him on a bench. "Don't fucking come near me Scott, I swear I'll shoot you in the fucking head" Kyle yelled as he held the gun up. Suddenly he started shooting rounds into the air and behind his back without even looking at what he was shooting at. "Get inside" Scott yelled at us, we ran inside, all of us crying.. including his girlfriend. "He's always like this when he drinks.. I hate it, I'm so sorry guys" She said to Nicole and I as we sat side-by-side on a twin bed. Speechless, we all sat there in silence as we listened to Kyle shoot off rounds outside, hoping he wouldn't hit one of the guys. After about two minutes, Kyle stopped shooting the gun and yelling started. Most of it was jumbled together but the one sentence I remember clearly was Craig yelling "what the fuck is wrong with you man?" That's when the screen door came slamming down on the floor with Craig on top of it, Kyle had pushed him so hard it broke the hinges. "I'll fucking kill you man, you don't know what it's like to be me" he screamed at Craig. It took Joey, Scott, Bobby and Jerry to get him off of Craig and out the door. Craig sprinted out and grabbed the gun and chainsaw so Kyle couldn't get a hold of them. Luckily no one was hurt but Kyle was never allowed out to that house ever again.
I glance over at Martina and simply said, "Kyle is heartless, it does not surprise me one bit."
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Week 5
Adult Memoir
I put my keys in the ignition and started the truck. Flipping through all the channels trying to find music other than Adam Sandler's "Thanksgiving song." I finally gave up and turned the radio off. Driving out to my dad's house was something I rarely did, so whenever I drive out there, I see different scenery that went unnoticed before. The ten minute drive took me straight to his driveway and the first difference I recognized was my sister's car wasn't there, instead I saw a black GMC Envoy.
Is that a girl or a boy.... I wondered as I sat across from "it," trying to choke down my mash potato. It spoke with the whole family instead of me, except for the occasional "pass the salt" or "pass the butter." "Michelle, what do you do for work?" My father asked.. finally I knew what gender "it" was.
I tried my absolute best not to stare at Michelle. She had red hair which was cut in a style a man would have. She wore a white polo and did not have any jewelry anywhere. Her voice was even a little bit manly and she had much more in common with my dad than my step mom.. they were getting along like peanut butter and fluff. Although I knew she was a girl, there wren't any facial features that made her look like one.
Dinner remained somewhat awkward and my sister barely said a word to me. I left the house to head back home and decided to not tell my mom about the encounter.. it was probably nothing.
***
I was unwrapping my Subway sandwich when my mom walked through the door in her uniform. "We have something we have to talk about," she took a deep breath and set her suitcase on the floor and walked over to the table to take a seat across from me. "Okay, who is it about?" I asked, nervously, hoping she wouldn't say me. "It's about your sister and something she told your father recently."
***
Family events became awkward for the longest time. I was never sure if it was as strange for everyone else as it was for me. Michelle talked to me once and a while during a family conversation but never one on one. I felt weird around her, if she was attracted to my sister, was she attracted to me too?
I put my keys in the ignition and started the truck. Flipping through all the channels trying to find music other than Adam Sandler's "Thanksgiving song." I finally gave up and turned the radio off. Driving out to my dad's house was something I rarely did, so whenever I drive out there, I see different scenery that went unnoticed before. The ten minute drive took me straight to his driveway and the first difference I recognized was my sister's car wasn't there, instead I saw a black GMC Envoy.
Is that a girl or a boy.... I wondered as I sat across from "it," trying to choke down my mash potato. It spoke with the whole family instead of me, except for the occasional "pass the salt" or "pass the butter." "Michelle, what do you do for work?" My father asked.. finally I knew what gender "it" was.
I tried my absolute best not to stare at Michelle. She had red hair which was cut in a style a man would have. She wore a white polo and did not have any jewelry anywhere. Her voice was even a little bit manly and she had much more in common with my dad than my step mom.. they were getting along like peanut butter and fluff. Although I knew she was a girl, there wren't any facial features that made her look like one.
Dinner remained somewhat awkward and my sister barely said a word to me. I left the house to head back home and decided to not tell my mom about the encounter.. it was probably nothing.
***
I was unwrapping my Subway sandwich when my mom walked through the door in her uniform. "We have something we have to talk about," she took a deep breath and set her suitcase on the floor and walked over to the table to take a seat across from me. "Okay, who is it about?" I asked, nervously, hoping she wouldn't say me. "It's about your sister and something she told your father recently."
***
Family events became awkward for the longest time. I was never sure if it was as strange for everyone else as it was for me. Michelle talked to me once and a while during a family conversation but never one on one. I felt weird around her, if she was attracted to my sister, was she attracted to me too?
Friday, September 23, 2011
Week 4
Childhood
Tap, Ballet, hip-hop and jazz.
My life revolved around dancing for about four to five years. I would attend the lessons every night after school at Top Hat Dance studio in Holden, Maine. My best friends: Chelsea, Bekah, Ashley and Allison would be right by my side while practicing the routines. "One and two and three and four, five, six, seven and eight." Instead of having lyrics to my favorite songs in my head it was numbers one through eight, repeating themselves every second of everyday.
Even when I wasn't in the dance studio, I was rehearsing wherever I was, school, home, on the playground, you name it. I was often giggled at by my friends who didn't dance for doing it all the time, but, practice makes perfect.. well almost perfect. My mom was constantly having me practice in front of her as well. I came home one day to find two large mirrors in my basement, "I thought these would be helpful so you can watch yourself dance" my mom said to me as I looked at my reflection.
Dance was what my life revolved around. Countless hours of going over the same steps until they were correct and then moving on to a new eight count. My friends and I lived for our performances which took place at the University of Maine. Our glittery outfits were the best part, as well as caking on make up like there was no tomorrow. By the time we were ready to go on stage we looked like clowns with all our silly eye shadow and lipstick. Our parents would take pictures like there was no tomorrow while we were performing. I would review them with my mom once we got home and in half of them I had my eyes closed because the stage lights were so bright.
I enjoyed the constant repetition of school, dinner, dance for about two to three years. One night over supper my mom suggested that I transfer to Thomas School of Dance in Bangor. I had started to give it some thought but rejected the idea because none of my friends would be with me if I switched over. Like any parent, my mom over time made the decision for me and pulled me out of Top Hat and signed me up at Thomas. I cried and cried because the anxiety of having to make all new friends and meet new dance instructors made me sick to my stomach.
The night came for me to attend my first dance class at Thomas and I was so furious that my mom was close to banding me from the computer for a week. Sitting in the car, I did not say a word and just glared out the window and kept thinking about all my friends back at Top Hat having a wonderful time without me. The car came to a stop and my mom told me we had arrived. I grabbed my nike bag with my dance shoes and slammed the car door shut. Tears were already starting to form in the corners of my eyes as my mom and I walked through the entrance door.
The building was old and the front desk to sign in was taller than I, making the whole situation a lot worse. "Hillary Craig" my mom said to the lady when she asked my name.. the woman told my mom what room to take me to and what my instructors name was. We made our way up the stairs and there was a peculiar smell the hallways had, making me hate the place even more. The dance instructor was a tall older woman who introduced herself as I walked into the studio, I forgot her name instantly simply because I did not even have the interest to remember it. Next thing I knew my mom was saying bye and told me she would pick me up around 8:30.. wonderful, I thought to myself.
After about ten minutes, all the girls had showed up and we all put our jazz shoes on, ready to dance. I stood in the corner by myself, realizing I didn't know or had never even seen any of the girls before.
"Okay ladies, I want half in one corner and half in the other."
I stayed in my corner as everyone else scurried around the room to choose what side they wanted to be on. Music started to play and one by one girls were doing full splits from one side of the room to the other. "What the Hell is this???" I thought to myself, watching the other girls. I was a good dancer but not nearly coordinated enough to do a full splits across the room, my legs were lanky and long. My turn came quickly and I started to cry.. my instructor came over and did not comfort me but instead pushed my front and bag legs down to the ground as far as she could. The pain was very difficult to maintain a she did this until I made it to the other side. By the time my turn was up, all the other girls were standing and watching me. I immediately walked over to my bag and took my dance shoes off, as anyone could guess, I sat there the entire rest of class and waited for my mother to get me.
I never ever step foot back in Thomas School of Dance again. I also never went back to Top Hat, unfortunately the experience ended my dancing career. But as they say "every ending starts a new beginning," that spring I bought my first field hockey stick.
Tap, Ballet, hip-hop and jazz.
My life revolved around dancing for about four to five years. I would attend the lessons every night after school at Top Hat Dance studio in Holden, Maine. My best friends: Chelsea, Bekah, Ashley and Allison would be right by my side while practicing the routines. "One and two and three and four, five, six, seven and eight." Instead of having lyrics to my favorite songs in my head it was numbers one through eight, repeating themselves every second of everyday.
Even when I wasn't in the dance studio, I was rehearsing wherever I was, school, home, on the playground, you name it. I was often giggled at by my friends who didn't dance for doing it all the time, but, practice makes perfect.. well almost perfect. My mom was constantly having me practice in front of her as well. I came home one day to find two large mirrors in my basement, "I thought these would be helpful so you can watch yourself dance" my mom said to me as I looked at my reflection.
Dance was what my life revolved around. Countless hours of going over the same steps until they were correct and then moving on to a new eight count. My friends and I lived for our performances which took place at the University of Maine. Our glittery outfits were the best part, as well as caking on make up like there was no tomorrow. By the time we were ready to go on stage we looked like clowns with all our silly eye shadow and lipstick. Our parents would take pictures like there was no tomorrow while we were performing. I would review them with my mom once we got home and in half of them I had my eyes closed because the stage lights were so bright.
I enjoyed the constant repetition of school, dinner, dance for about two to three years. One night over supper my mom suggested that I transfer to Thomas School of Dance in Bangor. I had started to give it some thought but rejected the idea because none of my friends would be with me if I switched over. Like any parent, my mom over time made the decision for me and pulled me out of Top Hat and signed me up at Thomas. I cried and cried because the anxiety of having to make all new friends and meet new dance instructors made me sick to my stomach.
The night came for me to attend my first dance class at Thomas and I was so furious that my mom was close to banding me from the computer for a week. Sitting in the car, I did not say a word and just glared out the window and kept thinking about all my friends back at Top Hat having a wonderful time without me. The car came to a stop and my mom told me we had arrived. I grabbed my nike bag with my dance shoes and slammed the car door shut. Tears were already starting to form in the corners of my eyes as my mom and I walked through the entrance door.
The building was old and the front desk to sign in was taller than I, making the whole situation a lot worse. "Hillary Craig" my mom said to the lady when she asked my name.. the woman told my mom what room to take me to and what my instructors name was. We made our way up the stairs and there was a peculiar smell the hallways had, making me hate the place even more. The dance instructor was a tall older woman who introduced herself as I walked into the studio, I forgot her name instantly simply because I did not even have the interest to remember it. Next thing I knew my mom was saying bye and told me she would pick me up around 8:30.. wonderful, I thought to myself.
After about ten minutes, all the girls had showed up and we all put our jazz shoes on, ready to dance. I stood in the corner by myself, realizing I didn't know or had never even seen any of the girls before.
"Okay ladies, I want half in one corner and half in the other."
I stayed in my corner as everyone else scurried around the room to choose what side they wanted to be on. Music started to play and one by one girls were doing full splits from one side of the room to the other. "What the Hell is this???" I thought to myself, watching the other girls. I was a good dancer but not nearly coordinated enough to do a full splits across the room, my legs were lanky and long. My turn came quickly and I started to cry.. my instructor came over and did not comfort me but instead pushed my front and bag legs down to the ground as far as she could. The pain was very difficult to maintain a she did this until I made it to the other side. By the time my turn was up, all the other girls were standing and watching me. I immediately walked over to my bag and took my dance shoes off, as anyone could guess, I sat there the entire rest of class and waited for my mother to get me.
I never ever step foot back in Thomas School of Dance again. I also never went back to Top Hat, unfortunately the experience ended my dancing career. But as they say "every ending starts a new beginning," that spring I bought my first field hockey stick.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Week 3
Travel Essay
I swear this is the longest car ride of my life... especially since I am stuck in the back seat of my Grandmother's van with my mom. Of course, we had to take the back roads instead of the interstate because everyone wanted to see the "scenery." The "scenery" is actually just a bunch of crappy houses and run-down farms strewn out here and there. We have been on the road for only two hours and I am already wanting to die.. ten more hours to go.
I swear this is the longest car ride of my life... especially since I am stuck in the back seat of my Grandmother's van with my mom. Of course, we had to take the back roads instead of the interstate because everyone wanted to see the "scenery." The "scenery" is actually just a bunch of crappy houses and run-down farms strewn out here and there. We have been on the road for only two hours and I am already wanting to die.. ten more hours to go.
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