Blog 12

I found a couple of good sites to submit my personal essay. The most interesting is Literal Latte online mag. It meets all the right criteria.

I also came across this website... it seems perfect for my personal essay submission, maybe more so than the one above. :) I'm not sure which one I will choose yet but I could also submit to both. Also this could be perfect for some of my classmates... it would fit perfectly for a couple of the essays that I have read of theirs. You guys should def check it out.
--------------------> http://www.slowtrains.com/slowtrainssub.html

blog 13

RHETORICAL ANALYSIS OF PUBLICATION VENUES

1. Analysis of the editorial description of essays accepted

• See http://www.literal-latte.com/submit_new.html Unpublished Stories or Personal Essays, up to 6,000 words, short plays or poems, up to 4,000 words, Art from cover art to literary cartoons. Photograph, Paintings, Drawing in Black & White or Color (Slides or Copies, not originals) -- Styles range from classical to experimental.
  
• Reading dates: 365 days a year

2. Description of several representative essays published in your venue;

• Sample essays: Julie Marie Wade - "Meditation 26" Bruce Holland Rogers "The Perfect Story"
  
• Authors they like: Ray Bradbury, Michael Brodsky, Robert Olen Butler, Stephen Dixon, Michael Dorris, Harlan Ellison, Allen Ginsberg, Daniel Harris, Phillip Lopate, Carole Maso, Nancy Milford, Carol Muske, Lynne Sharon Schwartz, Gloria Steinem, Frank Stella, Jerry Uelsmann, JOhn Updike, & Exciting new talents...
• Subject matter: Essays on personal experiences and fiction.varied subject material -not really limited by subject except, the personal essays I read were reflective and dealt with refelective life issues such as death and change.
• Voice: Reflective on personal life expieriences that are relatable to everyone.
• Depth of discussion: I only read a personal essay and a short story, not the stories labled fiction, they were fairly long and had alot of discription of the events and places they took place. Also lots of dialoge.
• Form (modes of writing/experimental) description, narration, dialog, uses imagry and reflection of childhood expierience/significant events to get overall point across.
• Artistry: High—It publishes many poems, cartoons, painting, photographs, drawingsLength: up to 6000 words for personal essays

3. Niche

• Audience - unresolved explainations, reflective, one central idea that is not resolved but examined through expierences.
• Purpose - To try and understand the human mind and life, through reflection.
  

4. Other

• No electronic submissions
• Replies within 5 months
• Publishes within a year of submission
• No mention of pay
• Include biography
• Send with self addressed stamped envelope
  

Blog 11 - Final Draft Personal Essay

That Night

There I was walking towards the crème colored double doors. I passed two unfamiliar faces; I did not smile at them or frown, my face remained emotionless. I opened the door and slowly walked in, looking around for a friend. I saw Diana standing with a couple of other acquaintances, some of whom I knew, Carmella and Crystal, and others that I only know by their faces. They hugged me hard. I could not hold back the tears as I watched their tears run down their faces. “Are you going to go up there? Cause I can’t do it.” Diana asked. I looked around, blurry eyed, there was five picture collages on large poster boards. Group pictures with smiling and happy people filled the posters from corner to corner. I looked back at Diana, “I don’t know if I can either.” She extended her hand towards me and handed me a picture, it was of her and Rye. He had his arm around her and they were smiling at the camera. He looked young and innocent, before the hardships of the world had tainted him. “Can you please put this in for me, pleasseee, I want him to remember us, I can’t, I just can’t go up there,” she could not control her tears as she asked me for a favor I was not prepared to do. I looked at Crystal she was taking things especially hard. Her and Rye dated for a several years and had a close bond. The next couple of times that I saw Crystal out I could tell that she was high on something. This was her way of surviving. I took the picture from Diana and walked robotically to the front. I knew this was my chance to talk to him and tell him I was sorry. Sorry, for not realizing something was wrong, sorry for brushing him off and sorry for wanting to yell at him for leaving people that care about him behind. I stood in line, awaiting my turn. I reached his parents and siblings; I gave them all hugs and said I was sorry for their loss. There is never anything “right” to say at these disheartening moments in time. I walked up to the casket and knelt down. My hand gradually moved across my body to make the sign of the cross: up, down, left, right. Hastily I placed the picture next to his lifeless leg. I could see that there were other pictures placed inside. I closed my eyes for a second and could not think or speak. I got up and walked away unsettled.

Diana and I went to our bar on Friday night. I just got out of work and needed to have a drink, the stress of serving people all night can lead me to drink. We sat in our usual spot, right next to the brass taps, about ten steps from the door. I got a Bacardi and coke, with a lime, of course, and Diana got a draft beer. We always have a good time when we go to this bar. This particular night we ran into a couple of people we knew and had not seen in awhile. There is nothing better than catching up with old friends. Rye was there. I had not seen him in months. His parents always come into my job and I wait on them, they are such great people, sometimes it is hard when I have to face them. Rye was wearing a black and white bandana, a white tank and jeans. As soon as he saw Diana and I he came right over to say hello and gave us each a kiss on the cheek and told us how great it was to see us. We did the same.
Diana is a social butterfly and had to make her rounds talking to everyone she knew. As I sipped on my drink, Rye kept me company.
“So what have you been up too?” The typical way people who have not seen each other in a while start a conversation.
“Well I’m still working at Friday’s and going to school.”
That was my automatic response every time I was asked that question. I asked him the same question and he told me he was doing some landscaping work for now but was going to go to school really soon. I thought that was great because ever since I have known Rye he did not have much direction in his life. I could tell he felt ashamed that his life was not in order because when he mentioned he did not have a car, he looked away as if he said something wrong.
“Thanks for that response on MySpace.”
I did not think that he was going to bring that up. I was hoping he was not going to bring that up, but he did. In his message, he confessed that he had a huge crush on me and he wanted to take me out.
I did not know what to say, “Umm… well, I was trying to be polite, I’m sorry, you know Dave and I just broke up and I don’t think I’m ready or looking to date anyone right now.”
I liked Rye, but just as a friend. I did not want to hurt his feeling or make anything awkward that night.
“Daph, if I take you out, I promise you will have a good time. Do you think I’m not good enough for you or something, that the impression that I get?”
“I know we would have a good time, that’s not it, I just went through a breakup and I just want to be single and not have to deal with men for a while.”
Then I went on my usual tangent about how men are horrible human beings, all they do is cheat and all they want is sex.
Then he said the sweetest thing to me, “You just haven’t met the right guy yet who will treat you that way that you deserve.”
I just looked at him and smiled. Diana came back; she and Rye were talking about her birthday plans next month. She told him he had to celebrate it with her or she would be mad at him. He said how happy he was to see us that night and that he would definitely go out for her birthday.
Rye went back to his friends and Diana and I just sat down at the bar and had our usual girl talk. I did not tell her about my conversation with Rye. I did not want to talk about it while he was still around just in case he overheard. I decided I would tell her later that night but I never got the chance and then I never wanted to.

I took a puff of my cigarette and let it out. It felt so good. It was a busy night at work and this 5-minute cigarette break was all I needed.
Rye walked up and lit a cigarette, “You don’t mind if I join you?”
“Of course not, I enjoy the company, so what’s up? How’s work been going for you tonight?” I tend to ask a couple of questions in a row without waiting for an answer.
“Good. Why is it that girls always smoke cigarettes standing in the same position? My sister does the same thing.”
I was standing with the cigarette in my right hand while my left hand cradled my right elbow. “I don’t know I guess it’s just the cool thing to do, maybe you should stand like that too!”
We both chuckled. We were always joking around. Laughing. He liked to laugh at almost anything that I said. I would say, “You don’t have to be nice I know I’m not as funny as you make me out to be.”

My phone rang earlier than usual on a Saturday morning. I didn’t think anything of it until I picked it up to her undistinguishable sounds.
“Diana I can’t make out what your saying. What’s going on, what happened?” “It’s Rye. He’s dead”
“What? What are you talking about? We were with him last night, what happened?”
“He’s gone, he committed suicide last night, after he got home from the bar.”
“Are you sure because he looked fine last night. He even said he was coming out for your birthday and he was going back to school. Are you sure?”
“I know. He seemed so exciting to see us. It’s true though. It was confirmed by an officer that was at his house today.”
We were both crying and wondering how this could have happened. We just saw him! It felt unreal. We went over last nights events in microscopic detail looking for clues to suggest that this was going to happen. There was nothing. In the back of my mind, I kept thinking about the conversation that Rye and I had. To think, while I was lying in my warm bed that night dreaming and thinking about my life, he was putting an end to his.

The barbeque was seven months after that night, the night Rye passed away. Since then I kept replaying mine and Rye’s conversation; I couldn’t get it out of my head. I still had not told a sole about it because I felt guilty. As the sun started to set, more people began to arrive. Groups formed and conversations filled the air. Crystal came up to me and said, “I haven’t seen you or Diana since Rye’s funeral.” She did not remember seeing me numerous times since then and I decided it was better not to mention it. “I had a really hard time dealing with Rye’s death. He called me a couple of times that night. I didn’t pick up. He left messages and I deleted them without listening to them. If I knew what was going to happen I would have picked up. I have no idea what those messages said. Then after all that I don’t know if you’ve heard or not but I got involved with drugs and went to a institution for a while to clear my mind. I was in real bad shape but I am doing a lot better now.” I just listened I didn’t know what to say. She continued, “Yea, I don’t mind talking about it now. It actually helps me to talk to people and I’m ok with everything. I had a dream a couple of weeks ago about Rye. He came to me and told me that I can’t keep beating myself up about what happened. He said I have to let it go and live my life. It was the weirdest thing because when I woke up I could still feel him. I believe it was really him, he came to me, and I’m trying listen to him. I feel a lot better these days.” While she was telling me about her dream, I felt a shiver run through me. I believed it too. He would have wanted us to be happy, the way he never could.

Blog 10

This is from my observation of the fossil in class. I found out, through the wonders of the internet, that this fossil is called Exogyra erraticostata and is found in Texas' Austin Chalk.

Outside
5” long about 3 pounds
Shell-like.
Ridges
Curve in shape, spiral
Towards the spiral it is smoother, like a seashell, with subtle ridges
Where it gets larger in shape the ridges are paper thin but the layers are more noticeable.
It is choppy in the back, like it was broken
In between the layers there are air pockets where tiny pieces of sand are imbedded.
Dark grey, light grey, white specks
Back side, where you can see the inside layers perfectly, light brownish color.
Looks like a rock layers
Large holes like something was attached to it

Inside
Deep
Smooth
Light, crème color
Flaky, dried up pie crust.
Rust
Outside
5” long about 3 pounds
Shell-like.
Ridges
Curve in shape, spiral
Towards the spiral it is smoother, like a seashell, with subtle ridges
Where it gets larger in shape the ridges are paper thin but the layers are more noticeable.
It is choppy in the back, like it was broken
In between the layers there are air pockets where tiny pieces of sand are imbedded.
Dark grey, light grey, white specks
Back side, where you can see the inside layers perfectly, light brownish color.
Looks like a rock layers
Large holes like something was attached to it
Inside
Deep
Smooth
Light, crème color
Flaky, like dried up pie crust.
Rust stains

Blog 9

I am sitting on a white cement bench that feels cold and hard. The wind is blowing furiously, howling through the branches of the trees. The leaves sway and send a chill through me. Winter is on its way. The smell of wood burning fills the air. It is dusk and the sky is slowly becoming black each minute that passes. Nothing that can be heard besides the wind and the thoughts in my mind. With each passing breeze, a new idea floats into my thoughts, the coldness, and my life.

The coy fish that are in the pond in the backyard had babies and we are going to keep them safe until they are big enough to go back into the pond. We crouched down around the pond, which has eight beautiful fish swimming in it. There are two that are smaller then the rest and are dark grey. Four of them are bright orange, one is a mixture of white, orange, and black, and the biggest one is completely white. We sit there silent looking for the baby fish, there are hidden between the rocks that surround the pond. These rocks are large and not sturdy they move as we crawl on them to get a better look into the water. The water filter is on which is making small ripples of waves. It makes it harder to see into the water and find the small fish that are the size of a peanut. We know they are there but are concealed to the naked eye.

I am looking at a picture I took when I went to the Everglades in Florida. It is the most magical picture. It was taken during dusk. The sky has so many layers of colors in it that you cannot distinguish when one begins and the other ends. The land and water are a dark black, they fade together. Above the sea and earth a symphony is created. From light blue, to purple, then a faint rose color then back to blue. A perfectly round, bright white moon hangs in the upper right-hand corner of the scene. In the distance, there is a figure of a man. His features indistinguishable, he is solid, only an outline of his frame is captured against the rainbow of colors in the sky.

Blog 8 Nature Writing

This is what I wrote about when we went outside during class...

The slow moving water basically still, murky. Leaves from the sweetgum tree floating in the water like stars. The weeds are peaking through the edges of where the water and soil meet. There are all sorts of weeds, one with purple little flowers buds on it, some are just random long leaves sprouting from the dirt. They emerge from the sides of the banks, angling towards the center of the water. Tall grasses are futher down the stream, cover the sides as the lift in the ground gets lower and lower. The water and land are becoming level. The roots from the trees are exposed, large veins leading towards the stream, there are also some small ones that look like worms. brown the same color as the dirt, almost hidden, their outside layer is not as rough and harsh as on the tree stump. The tree keeps dropping something from high above. Little light brown pieces, almost creme colored, fall to the ground. With the stillness in the air, as they drop you can hear them hit the ground. There are large qualities surrounding the stump. Where are they? High in the leaves nothing can be seen, not an animal or insect. These pieces are dicarded as useless, thrown away and unessesary.


There could be some themes in here. I have been trying to think of some interested concepts.
The seeds of the "gumballs" are eaten and then discarded. (used and thrown away)
The river is the source for all. (One thing or person that holds your family together)
The roots of a tree can be interesting to work with. They are hidden underground, you can't see them (usually) but there are there and are needed as a source to the life of the tree. It keeps it grounded. "Roots grow where water, minerals and oxygen are found in the soil. Because the greatest supplies of these materials usually are located in the surface layer of soil, the largest concentration of feeder roots exists in this zone." http://www.ext.colostate.edu/PUBS/garden/02926.html
The were exposed by where the stream was, it was seeking water. I don't know if any of this might translate into nature writing with a reflection, I'm just writing ideas as they come to me, whether they make sense of not.

Blog 7 - Truth

In my personal essay I can honestly say that everything that is writen is 100% accurate to my memory of what happened. The diaologe is basically how it went, I obviously don't remember the exact words.

In my memior, everything is pretty precise. It happened many years ago so maybe everything is not accurate. I know I am uncertain about his height in the story, he wasn't 3 inches shorter than I was, he was short but I think that he was my same height. I guess now that I realize it was an exaggeration on my part, I will have to correct it because I know it is false information. He was a nice guy overall but I guess I wasn't interested in him and therefore painted him in a bad light so that others could sympathize. When he spit the drink at me that did happen that was but I am sure I embelished to make it seem more dramatic. The other part of the story was pretty accurate to what I remember there is nothing in there that is incorrect. As, I read it over that is how I remember it happening. This excercise really makes you think about the truth in your story and makes you want to correct it.