Just strolling along...

I have always just written to write, possibly with no focus or purpose, or maybe there was. It has been hard for me to realize what writers go through as they write and make revisions. I don't exactly know what I thought, maybe it was that published writers just wrote and everything came out perfect, no major revisions, no sitting around finding a focus, analysing each word and paragraph... I thought it came naturally to them. I thought that while I was reading all of these books, novels, short stories, etc... that the way everything fit perfectly might have been a major coincidence. I couldn't have conceive the amount of thought that goes into their works... I have a greater respect for writers now. Just wanted to share. :)

Blog 18

My writing has always been a way to work things out in my mind, it kept my sanity and helped me get my emotions out without having to burden others with my problems. I sometimes feel that people are so self involved and would much rather talk about themselves and therefore I have always taken on the role of listener.

I need to spend time on form and reflection, I think that I learned alot about that from this class. and although i have to admit that I have realized from this course is that unless I am inspired by something I can't write just to meet a deadline... I get stumped and then I think too much about it and too much into it that I just can't do it! It was very frustrating to me because I was so excited about taking this class and I feel that what I have written is not my best work, at all!

At this point, I feel that I am not ready for any sort of writing group. As I stated above when it comes to creativity I can not have a set time to meet and read work. It would prob stress me out knowing that I had an obligation to go weekly. I think if anything I would do something casual like go read something I wrote, that I felt proud of, at an open mic one night on a whim, that is more me.

I am not sure what I want to do in the future. I thought I wanted to go into teaching but I am not sure. And as far as using my writing in the future I'm completely unsure. haha... lots of uncertainty for this response. All I can say is that I will keep writing when I am inspired and see what happens and where it will take me.

I would like to write personal essays, life, love, happiness, sadness, very emotion, real and raw. I am a very honest person especially in my writing I don't hold back. I tell the truth especially when it comes to how I feel about things... I am true to myself.

Right now the only publication that I am going to send out is my personal essay to Literal Latte. As far as for the future it possibly might be just for the people around me... as Prof Chandler was just saying in class. I think that at this point I am more comfortable with that.

Nature Essay

Nature Essay- I started writing about the Christmas trees then it went in a totally different direction and focus than my original plan. I don’t think it’s much of a nature essay but if you could give me some feedback that would be great. Thank you.


I get out of my car and walk towards the entrance. I walk the wrong way at first and am blocked by a large metal fence. I giggle and think to myself that I hope no one has seen my mistake. I turn around a head towards the area where I think is the entrance. I reach my destination and walk inside. Hundreds of Christmas trees surround me. Some were wrapped up in netting and some are loosely displayed. I take a walk around once and just look at them. They all look the same and I am ready for the employee to come over and help me. I know exactly what I want, “A tree not too big but not too small, full and pretty.” I don’t want to be difficult it will be an easy choice. There is only one employee to help the flocks of people that are walking in to buy the perfect tree. I stand to the side and wait for him. He notices me waiting and says, “Sorry, I’ll be right with you, you’re next, I promise.” I was in no rush so I stood there patiently. More and more people started to come in and they looked around, touching and opening up the trees, admiring their beauty and with precision choosing the perfect one for their homes. Once they had selected it, they went to the front and the one employee helped them. I waited and waited some more. I decided to take another look, it seemed so important to the other families to look at every tree and select “the one.” I wanted that too. I walked around this time and touched the branches. As my fingers grazed the pine needles, they swayed with my touch and some of the needles fell to the ground. They were not secure enough to hold on to the branch. I realized that some needles were longer and thicker than on other trees. Some trees were fuller than others were and everyone wanted those; no one wanted a sparse tree.

There was only one available spot to park and of course it was half a block away from my apartment. I got out of the car, said, “I can do this”, and unlocked all the doors. I took out a pair of little scissors I had, opened the back door. I hoisted myself up with both arms and then let go of one. With that one hand, I cut the strings that held the Christmas tree on the roof of my car. I slid it down the one side of my car, it toppled over and wow was it heavy. Was I going to make it half a block and then up two flights of stairs with a seven-foot tree? I was going to try. I started strong; I held it tight with both hands and lifted it up. I got pretty far before I had to put it down. I was tangled in it. The netting around the tree was caught on my jacket buttons. We were stuck together so I untwisted it and kept going. It kept happening repeatedly. I lugged it all the way up, by myself. I was so exhausted but the excitement in my feat overpowered that.

I placed the tree in its stand; I stood back and looked at it. It was beautiful but there were things that I was now noticing that I didn’t when I first picked it out. Each pine needle was individually attached to its branch. At the end of the branch there was a small cluster of small bulbs, it was as if a flower could sprout from it. In the inside, I found a dried up leaf. At first, it looked like a shriveled up piece of cigar paper. As I unrolled it I noticed the lines in the leaf, they were faint but still there. It was dead. The heart shape it once possessed crumbled into a million small pieces as I was holding it. I looked inside the branches for more signs of the trees natural surrounding but there were no more to be found. The branches at the top of the tree were very close together making it hard to see inside to the base of the tree. The branches at the bottom are sparse and the base is exposed. At the stump of the tree, there is a secretion of sap oozing out of the bark. It leaves me feeling melancholy. I lean down and touch it. It makes my fingers sticky and as I rub them together, the sap turns brown.