Final Blog

Dear Dr. Morris, 

It’s been real. I really have enjoyed being in your class and have learned a lot. I met some really cool people and made some new friends. I loved the atmosphere that you created. Everyone was able to interact with one another. It wasn’t like most of my other classes where no one really talks and you just sit there listening to the professor drone on and on and staring at clock. You know the saying “Time flies when you are having fun” and that is what I had. Fun. You did a wonderful job keeping the class upbeat, fun, and positive. I enjoyed coming to class every week. I have never heard of creative nonfiction before I took your course and to be honest, I think it is my new favorite form of writing now. I can, however, live without the opinion editorial. It was really nice of you to let everyone who didn’t do so well on their opinion editorials re-do them. Me included. 

One suggestion I have is to take your class outside for a lesson on the days it is nice out. And to give out more free SKITTLES. I also suggest that you give me a good grade. Haha just kidding. Some of my blogs are boring and not worth reading, particularly the one about the Flyers (who is the most awesomest team in the world) so if you read them I’m sorry for the pain you went through reading them.

I look forward to broadening my horizons as I get more in depth with my major (professional writing). It was fun learning different writing techniques and discovered what I was and was not good at. If I ever go on ratemyprofessors.com I will surely give you the highest score possible.   

Memoirs

Everyone is writing memoirs these days and to be honest I really do not give a rats’ ass about the lives of celebrities who have done nothing for society except for existing. However, Eminem’s memoir is the only one I took the time to read because he just brings awesome to a whole new level. He actually wrote it himself unlike Paris Hilton who can’t string two words together to make a proper sentence. The only words she does know is “like”, “like”, and “like”. I can feel my brain cells depleting just thinking of her. She must have paid a hell of a lot of money for someone else to write a coherent memoir about how she does absolutely nothing because God knows she couldn’t do it herself. If you’re going tow write a memoir WRITE IT YOURSELF. If you have someone else writing it for you then it’s not really considered a memoir now is it? So technically your memoir is a lie and lying pisses me the fuck off. 

I mean what makes them so darn special that they think they can write a memoir? (other than they can and are famous...that doesn’t count)Everyone has done something they can write about and everyone has their own set of issues. Memoirs are fine if you 1) write it yourself 2) have done something worth writing about rather than writing nonsense no one cares about.  For example, I don’t care that Paris Hilton has a dog named Tinkerbell and that she dressed the poor thing up in ridiculous outfits. That dog has to be dead now right? Ghost writing does sound fun (probably because of the huge sums of money you’re getting) but at the same time it would be super annoying because you are not the one getting recognized for your hard work. 

It’s not like there aren’t any good memoirs out there. You have Eminem’s memoir which I mentioned in the first paragraph. And then you have yet to read Memoirs of a Geisha which I have not read but heard it was a good book and a movie so I may read that. 

Final Draft of CNF Number 3

Attempt #1:

To whom it may concern: 

Each day is a huge struggle and the tormenting gets worse. Keep in mind that I’ve been dealing with the same nonsense for the past several months. One week things seem to be going smoothly and the next people are making fun of me and putting tator tots and an open carton of chocolate milk into my new hoodie. It’s not like I have friends anymore to help me cope with things. They left for some reason.  I have a feeling that my entire life is going to revolve around this vicious cycle. So why not end my troubled and pathetic life? Nothing is worth it and I can’t find joy in anything. My friends avoid me, my sister is one of my tormentors, and the only comfort I have is the bottles of vodka I have hidden in the back of my closet. Drinking offers me an escape from what I feel. It helps me forget everything that’s wrong in my life. Unfortunately it’s only a temporary fix and I’m left with a huge hangover. 

No one will miss me when I’m gone except maybe my parents and to them I say this: “Don’t be sad. I’ll see you guys again in the next life. A better, happier life. Don’t feel guilty either, I love you both and I want you to know that you did everything right. This is my decision and I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I just want it all to end. 

Now.”  

Attempt #2:

To Who It May Concern:

I’m always tired and I have no motivation for anything. I want to close my eyes and never wake up. I want to feel death’s warm embrace.  I can’t take it anymore. I’m sorry but I can’t. The world is a cold, hard place and people will be better off if I’m not in it. Everyone at school says so. It would be easy to grant them their wish. Both my parents work and they go to bed fairly early so timing wouldn’t be an issue; except my sisters would be home around the same time I am. The only option I really have is to wait until everyone is asleep and the house is quiet. I have a rope tucked safely away in the bottom of my drawer along with a few bottles of nyquil. 

Attempt #3:

To Whom it May Concern:

You know that rabbit hole Alice falls into in Alice and Wonderland? I’m falling into a similar hole except there’s no bottom. I’m surrounded by bits and pieces of my past I’d rather forget. I see a blur of faces tumbling over one another and blending into one giant nightmare. The songs they sing just as haunting. One kid who I recognize from school silently laughs while a guy I dated tells me everyone hated me and that I was a waste of space and air. You don’t know what it’s like to have only one person stand up for you and that one person is now dead. My parents are among the spectators; and a shiver runs down my spine at their disapproving glares. A bottle of gin floats by me and I reach out desperately trying to grab it. My hand comes away empty and I stare at the bottle in desperation. I reach out again and once more my hand passes through it. Tears spill down my cheeks as I realize that I won’t be drinking my sorrows away tonight. Tonight I will be forced to lie in bed as unwanted feelings come crashing down threatening to suffocate me. I need the alcohol. Alcohol is one of my saviors, it temporarily stops my free fall; a reprieve of sorts. So is the cutting. Except it’s not really “cutting” it’s just a few scratches on my stomach. It’s a safe place where no one but me can see the truth of what I’m trying to deny. With each swipe of my finger on my skin each error and mistake I ever made floods my mind and pours out into each scratch. The pain makes me feel better. It gives me something else to concentrate on. 

The pain eventually  stops and I’m free falling. My mouth opens into a scream for help but no sound comes out. I can’t do anything right. I can’t even write a proper suicide note. I’m tired of falling and have decided to create my own bottom, my own end. So farewell I’m sure I’ll see you all in a better, happier life. 

~ Jane Doe

CNF Number 3

For my last CNF piece I'm going to write about depression in the form of a suicide note. Within the note I was thinking of writing three (maybe more?) attempts at writing one. Here's what I have so far...

Attempt #1:

To whom it may concern: 

Life has become unbearable. I’ve tried my hardest to push past all the pain and hurt nestled deep within me but something keeps tugging me into this never ending abyss. As time moves on I fall further and further into this dark hole that is swallowing me whole. For a while I’ve tried to fight against it; but as time passes I realize that the fight isn’t worth it. 

Each day is a huge struggle and the tormenting gets worse. Keep in mind that I’ve been dealing with the same nonsense for the past several months. One week things seem to be going smoothly and the next people are making fun of me and putting tator tots and an open carton of chocolate milk into my new hoodie. It’s not like I have friends anymore to help me cope with things. They left for some reason.  I have a feeling that my entire life is going to revolve around this vicious cycle. So why not end my troubled and pathetic life? Nothing is worth it and I can’t find joy in anything. My friends avoid me, my sister is one of my tormentors, and the only comfort I have is the bottles of vodka I have hidden in the back of my closet. Drinking offers me an escape from what I feel. It helps me forget everything that’s wrong in my life. Unfortunately it’s only a temporary fix and I’m left with a huge hangover. 

No one will miss me when I’m gone except maybe my parents and to them I say this: “Don’t be sad. I’ll see you guys again in the next life. A better, happier life. Don’t feel guilty either, I love you both and I want you to know that you did everything right. This is my decision and I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I just want it all to end. Now.”  

Attempt #2:

To Whom it May Concern:

You know that rabbit hole Alice falls into in Alice and Wonderland? I’m falling into a similar hole except there’s no bottom. I’m surrounded by bits and pieces of my past I’d rather forget. I see a blur of faces tumbling over one another and blending into one giant nightmare. The songs they sing just as haunting. One kid who I recognize from school silently laughs while a guy I dated tells me everyone hated me and that I was a waste of space and air. You don’t know what it’s like to have only one person stand up for you and that one person is now dead. My parents are among the spectators; and a shiver runs down my spine at their disapproving glares. A bottle of gin floats by me and I reach out desperately trying to grab it. My hand comes away empty and I stare at the bottle in desperation. I reach out again and once more my hand passes through it. Tears spill down my cheeks as I realize that I won’t be drinking my sorrows away tonight. Tonight I will be forced to lie in bed as unwanted feelings come crashing down threatening to suffocate me. I need the alcohol. Alcohol is one of my saviors, it temporarily stops my free fall; a reprieve of sorts. So is the cutting. Except it’s not really “cutting” it’s just a few scratches on my stomach. It’s a safe place where no one but me can see the truth of what I’m trying to deny. With each swipe of my finger on my skin each error and mistake I ever made floods my mind and pours out into each scratch. The pain makes me feel better. It gives me something else to concentrate on. 

The pain eventually  stops and I’m free falling. My mouth opens into a scream for help but no sound comes out. 

Attempt #:

To Who It May Concern:

I’m always tired and I have no motivation for anything. I want to close my eyes and never wake up. I want to feel death’s warm embrace.  I can’t take it anymore. I’m sorry but I can’t. The world is a cold, hard place and people will be better off if I’m not in it. Everyone at school says so.

Creative Nonfiction Essay Number 1 (posted only a part of it)

I decided to post part of my first nonfiction creative essay for those who haven't had the chance to read it.

Just Breathe

My heart pounded within my chest, each beat faster than the last. My fingers curled around the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. In an attempt to calm myself, I breathed in a lungful of summer air. My heart thrashed against my ribs like a wild animal trying to escape it’s cage. Letting out a frustrated sigh I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to keep the panic attack at bay. 

I’m not that girl anymore. I’m a different person.

The pep talk I gave myself wasn’t working. Frustrated, I swung open the car door and hesitated, trying to prolong the inevitable. I didn’t want to go back in there to the hell I was put through. Even though the building was renovated it was still the same. Ahead of me was the chain link fence that surrounded the blacktop and jungle gyms, the sun dancing brightly off the cold metal. Taunting me. A shudder rocked my body and goose bumps formed along my exposed skin as my fingers curled around the chain link fence.

“I choose...Sally.” Joe said, as he bounced the bright red kickball against the blacktop. I started to thrum my hand against my leg, anxious. My throat started to close and my heart hammered in my chest; making breathing almost impossible. The two captains exchanged a glance as they realized I was the only one left. “You can have Breezy,” Chris said glancing over at Greg who was looking up at the clear blue sky. At the sound of Chris’s voice Greg turned his attention to his friend. “I have more people than you do.” 

There was a look in his eye filled with words unsaid. A feeling of dread rushed through me and not saying a word I trudged past the small group with my head down. I ran off to the jungle gym where my “friend” Kim was playing. She was dangling from the monkey bars laughing as Sean pulled off her shoe and threw it. “Hey Kim!” I said. A fake smile plastered on my face. Sean looks at Kim and snorts. “I’ll see you later.” I watch as he runs away to join the kickball game. I watched in envy as Greg welcomed him onto the team and I turned back to Kim. She was shuffling her feet and looking down at the woodchips, avoiding my gaze. 

“Hey Bree,” Kim said. Turn this into another sentence. 

“We’re friends right?” I said. I wasn’t sure why I asked. but at the same time, I knew. No one liked me. I was ultimately alone. I had no friends to play with. No friends to talk to or joke around with. They slandered me with crude nicknames and talked behind my back. 

“Uhm...no. I can’t be your friend anymore.” She said. My heart fell into my stomach.

“Why?” 

“Because you’re embarrassing to be around. You’re a huge cry baby and no one likes you.” The words were said and I knew they were true. It explained why no one wanted to be seen with me. That’s why everyone ran from me like I had an infectious disease and they were going to catch it. The only people who loved me was my family and at times my own sister was embarrassed of me. 

I couldn’t breath anymore. I was going to die. My heart sped up and my hands became slick with sweat. 

I didn’t say anything. I just turned away and ran aimlessly. Hot tears fell angrily down my cheeks. The further I ran the more I convinced myself I couldn’t breath. I shook as sobs wracked my body. I blindly ran over to the small cluster of teachers who were on recess duty. 

“I need to go to the nurse,” I nearly screamed the words and the teachers looked to one another, not quite sure how to respond. 

“Not now. Recess is almost over.” It was Mrs. Cambell who spoke. She was used to me acting like this. This wasn’t the first time I said those words.

“No. I need to go NOW!”  I said.  I was jumping up and down, trying to make them understand that I was going to die. I needed to get home. I needed my mom. I knew once I was with her I’d be fine.  I’d be safe.

Part of the Opinion Editorial I Re-Did

During my first week of high school the first week of High School the class of 2010 was called to the auditorium to hear a presentation by the school principal.  Each student slowly made their way into the venue and took their seats.  We were excited to hear how our senior year would unfold and what was in store for us during this final year of high school.  We heard about class trips, college choices, prom and other exciting events.  But there was one message I was not prepared to hear.  After information overload of what to expect throughout the year, the Principal abruptly switched gears.  He cleared his throat, his body language projected discomfort and I could detect a slight nervous tone to his voice.  The presenter told us to take a look at the person to our sides and to the front and back of us.  He paused and went on to tell the audience that some of us in the group would not graduate.  He told us that some of us would not live to see our friend's on graduation day.  My initial thought was that he was attempting to "scare us straight."  The Principal talked about dangers of drinking and driving and the responsibility we had to our friends when we got behind the wheel of a car.   He reminded us of the dangers of texting and driving and how we could injure ourselves, or worse, one of our friends.  The principal provided examples of situations he felt were "real" and those that he felt we had the ability to control.  However, there was one particular example the Principal did not prepare us for and that was the possibility and probability of one or more of our peers not making it to see their graduation day due to suicide.

It is said that nearly one-third of all teenage deaths are a result of suicide.  It is also said that teenage suicide increased 18% since 2004.  Why the rise in suicides over the last 8 years?  There are many causes for teenage suicide from depression, alcohol or drug abuse, bullying, a breakup with a boyfriend or girlfriend or some other life changing event such as a death in the family or divorce.  When you stop and think about it, there are other factors that may impact the 18% increase.  For example, many prescribed drugs have side affects including increased suicidal thoughts. Although the drug labeling is listed as a warning or disclosure, does it indirectly raise awareness and inadvertently plant or reinforce the idea of suicide?   Maybe not, but if someone is already depressed or in an unpredictable state of mind, does the drug labeling raise the awareness of a suicide tendency?  

Todays teens are far more dependent on technology than teenagers of years past.  Teenagers today are connected all day, every day including having their phones by their side in bed. Bullying, on the other hand has been a part of growing up for decades past.  However, the style in which bullying is done nowadays is very different; and unfortunately, bullying is a lot more effective today.  With the introduction of computers, phones and social media, bullying has reached a new level of sophistication.  Stuffing tatter tots in the hood of a sweatshirt, or having a plate of spaghetti and meatballs dumped on you in the cafeteria is still a very effective means of bullying.  But with the advent of technology, word of the cafeteria bullying spreads within minutes.  By the time the poor spaghetti splattered student gets to her next class, 50% of the school knows what happened and "why" - there is no escaping the incident and no where to hide.  Thanks to modern technology, by the time spaghetti girl gets home, her parents greet her at the front door already knowing what occurred earlier in the day. In years past, a student may have been bullied, however, word did not spread at the same pace as it does today.  It was possible to get home and in the door without having to explain to your family what happened.  It was possible to forget the day's events long enough to eat and possibly get a few hours of sleep.  In today's society, the constant electronic connection does not allow a moment's peace.  The Facebook messages, text messages and other sources of media will make sure the bullying incident is not forgotten quickly.

Tape Recording and Handwritten Regarding Interviews

The only interview I have ever done that I can remember was back in tenth grade. I had to interview my grandmother about geneology and I remembered handwritting the interview. I didn’t mind it but I wish I had used a tape recorder instead. A couple of times I had to ask my grandmother to repeat herself because I had somehow missed the first part of what she had been saying. She had to speak slowly enough so I could write down everything she said which, for me, was kind of awkward. With tape recorders you can look at the person you’re interviewing with and take note of facial expressions and anything else you wouldn’t be able to notice if you’re looking down at a piece of paper. On the downside using a tape recorder could intimidate the person you’re interviewing which wouldn’t help you gather the information you want. For any upcoming interviews I may have I think I would choose to use both the tape recorder and handwritten notes. Both have positives and negatives but I think they outweigh each other. By doing both you’re able to get down anything you may have missed during the interview (specific quotes, etc). 

Then there’s the ethical use of tape recorders. You can only use tape recorders when you have permission from the person you want to tape. That’s a good rule but when it comes to the well being of other people I think it’s okay to use a recorder without permission. It’s like in the movie Horrible Bosses when the one boss threatens to kill his employee and his two friends. If they hadn’t been recording then the three guys would have gone to jail for murder. There are other instances where it should be okay to bend the rule without worrying about getting sued. For example, the incident with the one coaches wife where she knew that her husband was molesting kids and someone got her on tape saying that she knew what he was doing the whole time. The ethical line is a fine one and I think that it should looked at again.