Monday, September 13, 2010

Class Blog Addresses

http://hassanfahad.blogspot.com
http://mygifttoyhu.blogspot.com
http://sydneyarnell.blogspot.com/
http://mastermindjas.blogspot.com
http://thetruthforchhs.blogspot.com/
http://onelovelygirly.blogspot.com/
http://colormecreatiive.blogspot.com/
http://www.justjtg.blogspot.com
http://urkel134.blogspot.com/
http://shonysmithblog.blogspot.com/
http://exclusivelyprofound.blogspot.com/
http://hoshivis.blogspot.com/
http://joaquinandtheblog.blogspot.com/
http://smooth1993.blogspot.com/
http://revolutionofzuri.blogspot.com
http://kidnamesplash.blogspot.com/
http://jasmine-unique-16.blogspot.com/
http://theriotwithin.blogspot.com/
http://www.ceesblogs-creativewriting5.blogspot.com/
http://soccereder.blogspot.com/
http://britney-sillygoose.blogspot.com/
http://yiza04.blogspot.com/
http://www.kaidemao.blogspot.com
http://www.nancy102594.blogspot.com
http://www.uitzcrissy.blogspot.com
http://ghettogabby17.blogspot.com/
http://www.mockag26.blogspot.com
http://www.bloggingbloggingmoreblogging.blogspot.com
http://www.jrfields.blogspot.com/
http://www.ingriduitz.blogspot.com/
http://www.viancabarajas5.blogspot.com
http://www.chanels-chcpcsblog.blogspot.com
http://www.cherish-cherishlife.blogspot.com/
http://www.strikeoutsandboxlogos.blogspot.com/
http://www.nevershoutsharlynyy.blogspot.com/
http://www.camcduffy4.blogspot.com/
http://www.ashleynichole123.blogspot.com/
http://www.beyondmarss.blogspot.com/
http://zacatecana911.blogspot.com/
http://www.kaarenp.blogspot.com/
http://www.pinkypie24.blogspot.com/
http://www.vivaciousprincess.blogspot.com/
http://www.juiceflavors.blogspot.com
http://www.berry93dream.blogspot.com/
http://www.myblogs-ashley.blogspot.com/
http://www.leshaij.blogspot.com/
http://www.llltlw.blogspot.com/
http://www.infamouskay.blogspot.com/
http://www.basketballtee.blogspot.com/
http://www.travisarmstrongchcpcs.blogspot.com/
http://www.deadpoolpenance.blogspot.com
http://www.creativevans.blogspot.com/
http://www.creativemindsonly.blogspot.com/
http://www.hamham5678.blogspot.com/
http://www.randomness-from-haqoora.blogspot.com/
http://www.monkeyinabananasuit.blogspot.com/
http://www.arianag27.blogspot.com/
http://www.reginarenee821.blogspot.com/
http://www.destinyaisha.blogspot.com/
http://www.taniascreativeblog-tania.blogspot.com/
http://www.theindiespot-lupe92.blogspot.com/
http://www.ceesblogs-creativewriting5.blogspot.com/
http://www.sampaki4life.blogspot.com
http://www.ofthejungle1.blogspot.com/
http://www.jaykayelbee.blogspot.com
http://www.blushersmind.blogspot.com/
http://www.mariaandherblogs.blogspot.com/
http://www.ernest-thoughtsandmusings.blogspot.com
http://www.iamsmoove.blogspot.com
http://www.riveraa0917.blogspot.com
http://www.lizet1124.blogspot.com
http://www.dammondr.blogspot.com
http://www.creativefilipina.blogspot.com
http://www.imkoolbrian.blogspot.com
http://www.sharnayspureandlove.blogspot.com
http://www.toomeen.blogspot.com
http://www.dsmith93.blogspot.com
http://jaysonterry.blogspot.com/ 

Friday, September 10, 2010

When I was Brave

Every now and again a situation arises that requires an enormous amount of strength and courage. Over the course of my life I have been faced with these challenges that have changed my perspective and given me a new awareness of who I am and how far far I have progressed in my life journey. One such instance occurred when I was in my junior year of high school. The morning started routinely. My brother and I awaken to the smell of bacon frying. My mother called to us to get up, get dressed and ready for school. It was snowing lightly, so I knew we had to hurry before it really started coming down. My brother and I grabbed our lunches and put them in our bags. Mom handed us the bacon and egg sandwiches wrapped in paper towels, told us to hurry, and kissed us goodbye. We were going to take the stairs but, we decided to take the elevator. We walked across the breezeway to the elevator. My brother pressed the button and we waited. After a few moments the elevator door slowly slid open and for a second; everything seemed to be in slow motion. Our vision seemed to be obstructed as the lights in the elevator car were dim and yellowed, one of the lights was missing adding to the uneasiness. The air had a strong unfamiliar smell. As we stepped into the car, I heard a moaning. I looked to my right and in the front corner there lie one of the brothers from downstairs. He was semiconscious his eyes had a icy glare and his mouth slightly parted. I could see saliva moving slowly down the side of his face. Around his arm was a belt and hanging from his arm was a hypodermic nettle. My brother  gasped and a chill shot through my body. My brother whispered, "...is he dead?" I bent over and looked the boy in the face. I could feel breath ever so slightly. "No, he's still breathing. He's overdosed on heroin." During the late 1960s and early 1970s, heroin was the drug of choice in poor urban cityscapes. Troops recently home from Viet Nam brought with them a new, stronger drug that became the scourge of the poor. The spread of addiction invaded many homes and cut short many lives. The young man on the elevator floor was about to join those no longer above ground unless someone could revive him. That someone was me. I did not wake up with the intention of saving anything or anyone but there was no time to think I had to act. As the elevator door closed everything I ever knew and was taught flooded my entire being. As the elevator came to rest at the ground floor a sudden calm swept through me and I barked to my brother to knock on the apartment door to my right and ask for a tray of ice, some table salt and warm water. He followed my instructions and seconds later he handed me the item. I then rinsed out the bloody heroin filled needle and replaced it with a salt solution. I then re tightened the belt that was around my friend's arm and continued to inject the salt solution into his lifeless arm. We put the ice wrapped in a towel around his and in his pants in the crouch area. Within seconds the young man started to stir. I signaled to my brother to help me get him to his feet. Still groggy, he started to respond. He started to mumble incoherently, we walked him outside into the lightly falling snow. The reality of we we had just done sent a chill through my body. My brother looked at me and smiled. We were brave that day and came to understand that we were a little different from that day forward.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Do You Remember...

Do you remember when things were simple?
Candy was a penny, and you got so many
It was Okay if you gave a piece away.
Do you remember when things were simple?
A train ride less than a quarter you could ride to the border...
Of Brooklyn to Coney Island and play in the sand.
Do you remember when things were simple?
Coloring was in books ...we never looked
Now the Bell Curve tolls ...we are different I am told 
Is that really the truth?
Do you remember when things were simple?
Times tables used to give us the answers
What the hell are 486 co-processors?
A net was for butterflies, fish and things with a shell,
Now my son's surfing the Internet, trying to get in touch with himself.
Do you remember when things were simple?
We'd play tag in the park, down by the river ... long after dark
Seemed much safer, now statistics make a case for a big dog that barks.
Do you remember when things were simple?
Candy was a penny, you got so many
It was okay if you gave a piece away

Thursday, September 2, 2010

Assignment: Free Write

Make use of these prompts or trigger lines for easy free writes. Pick two of them – quickly; don’t think about it too much – write it down and keep writing. Anything at all. Whatever the prompt suggests Keep going. A little bit more. These will be the next two blog entries.



This journal is…



My mother used to have…



There was something about the way he/she …



The house we lived in…



In this dream I was…



He/She got out of the car…



The first thing I want in the morning…



When I wake up…

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Protocols for Creative Writing Workshop

It is the obligation of each reader and writer to prepare in advance, focusing on what succeeds in each piece, and where and why, noting judiciously where improvement is needed, and why.

The piece is under discussion. The author is not. Make sure your comments relate to the nature of the writing and not (even by implication) to the character of the writer. Separate the writer from the voice or character.

Continue to interrogate the piece: What kind is it? What does it suggest? What is its apparent aim?

The goal of the workshop is to make every piece the very beat it can be. There is no place for dismissal or disregard. On the contrary, the workshop is there to identify and foster promise in every story, essay, poem, or drama.

As the writer, your obligation is to listen attentively, take everything in, and keep your natural defensiveness in check. You will always have an opportunity to speak. But this is the least important part of the workshop process for you. The most important part comes later, when you get back to work. Then (and only then) you will begin to sort out what’s most useful in your piece.