Help Me Find Anna!

I realize that it has been almost a year since the last time someone posted on this blog. I'm a little saddened that it has been under utilized. Our class was filled with some of the most talented student writers I have met. It may even qualify as my favorite class. Perhaps I will post something in the future, but right now I have a very separate motive for posting. I am hoping that someone will see this and be able to connect me to Anna Vodicka. I need to speak with her and her University email no longer works. I even talked to the University and they have no contact info for me. I am in a slightly desperate state, so anything to help would be amazing!

-Megan Elizabeth

Writing Exercises

I need Legitimate feedback.
Let's give it to each other.

Also, opportunity to be published for us all?

check it out:

Poetry doesn't have to rhyme?

I am taking a poetry class this semester. When asked to list off poets that we were inspired by I found myself totally at a loss. Up until that point, my exposure to poetry was Shel Silverstein and whatever Maya Angelou says when she's a guest on the Oprah show. So for this last assignment I chose to work with a medium that I have more experience in. Choose your own adventure.

Tear me to shreds, please:

Figuring It Out

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about sending my work out. To, you know… potentially be published. I’m confident in my ability to write, revise, etc—the problem being this fear that my family will read and be offended by my interpretation of the truth. Joan Didion said, “Writers are always selling somebody out--”

check-up

Does anyone ever look at this page and quietly think, "someone really ought to post something new"?

Jack In Four Acts

Act One- He is strong. He is security. He drives a Jeep. He is from Oklahoma. I am in love. I am sure. I am engaged. I buy a wedding dress. I plan a wedding in Oklahoma. I smile all the time. I sell my car. I give up my apartment. He meets my parents. I smile when it is done. We workout. He was engaged once before. He offers to buy me a different ring. I like this one. I am sure.

Act Two- I am confused. I am concerned. She contacts Him. He reassures me. He promises me. We workout. He will never leave me. He will always love me. I am sure. He changes his mind. I cry. He wants to still be friends. I collect my things. I cry. I give Him the ring. He decides to marry Her. I cry. He leaves. We will not be friends. I will not let this happen to me again. I am sure.

Act Three- I am alone. I have lost my friend. I have lost my future. I cry. I spend the last of my money on a new place. I cry. I workout. I sleep. I cry. I workout. I sleep. I sleep. I cry. I sleep. I cry. I workout. I don't talk about it. I workout. I look for a job. I sleep. I sleep. I cry. I don't let people know my pain. I move into my new place. I cry in the shower. I workout six days a week. I get a bike. I am going to be fine. I am sure.

Act Four- I am determined. I accept any offers to socialize. I hate to be alone. I workout. I cry. I joke when people ask about Him. I never stop thinking. I distract myself. Then one day I don't cry. I don't always think about it now. I can't forget him entirely though. I am ready to begin again. I workout and go to a job interview. I pick up my wedding dress and I don't cry. He does not control my life. I am happy. I am sure.

Urban Diamond

On the corner of a busy urban city, lies the twinkling light of a finely polished diamond. If I were Audrey Hepburn, I would be wearing a black satin gown designed by Givenchy and an elegant necklace would hang snugly across my neck. As I would chew on my warm pastry and sip on my steaming coffee I’d admire the diamonds and hope that someday they would be mine. Although I am not Audrey Hepburn as you may have guessed, I am also standing outside the windows at Tiffany’s.
“When I get a degree those diamonds will glint across my neck, and not on a mannequin in the window.” I think to myself. “When I get a degree, I can wear jewels and dress in Givenchy.” When you get a degree, you get a future. And while we might not all be able to buy designer duds, we can be confident that a secure future is probable. Diamonds are like the best universities in the country. If you’re going to buy something that sparkles, you don’t buy a pearl, you buy a diamond. The University of Redlands is like those Tiffany diamonds; sparkling, beautiful, and full of promise. When you get a degree from the
University of Redlands, you are investing for a future that you deserve. Humans are all like unpolished diamonds. But when you get a degree from the University of Redlands, each year you spend, and each class you take, you become a little more polished. Until that final moment when you walk in your cap and gown and graduate; it is then that you will sparkle like the inside of Tiffany’s.

A Short Story

This is my ploy to secure an A for my online literature class, English 257.

Prologue.
This is short story. Sometimes a very difficult task when long stories are generally needed. Being the skilled wizard of words that I am, it is possible only for some. When I say this is a short story, I really mean short. Why? Because I have something very important to do and the self evaluation for this class is due tonight. This is not to say that my short story is any less important to me than the other important thing mentioned above. This is the story of how Idaho came to be.

Chapter 1:
Zeus was lonely one day, atop his mighty mountain Olympus. Hera was on vacation in Mexico with her three girlfriends from the city, because one of her girlfriends was just left at that alter by her boyfriend of ten years called Mr. Big. I know this sounds a lot like Sex and the City, and your right, this is exactly what happened in Sex and the City: The Movie.
Since Zeus had no one to talk to before he went to bed that night, he decided to create a state filled with beautiful gems that would sparkle from deep below the earth. He would call this state, The Gem State. Zeus really liked vodka as well, so he made this land bountiful with potatoes. He would call this new Vodka, Spudka.

Chapter 2:
When Hera returned from Mexico she was really pissed because Zeus had made a bunch of gorgeous native women and she found them lying around the Mount Oly Resort topless. Hera was jealous of these women and so she sent white settlers to move them off their land. Zeus cried because he loved these women, and blessed them with beauty and many buffaloes for generations to come.

Chapter 3:
Zeus and Hera consider getting a divorce. Marital troubles. They fix their issues and decide as a celebration of their renewed marriage to build a learning institution for the inhabitants of this beautiful land. They call it the University of Idaho.

Chapter 4:
Zeus really likes this young woman named Liz Sandoval and bestows upon her the gift of story- telling. Zeus comes down and invades the mind of her English 257 professor Rick Fehrenbacher and gives Liz Sandoval and A in the class because she is so funny.

Epilogue.
Liz Sandoval remained happy and told many more stories to the people of the gem state. She remained forever grateful to Zeus and Mr. Fehrenbacher. She then received a Grammy Award for best narration of an audio tape for this story.

The End. *Applause. *

Cinco de Mayo

Happy 5th of May!

"Cinco de Mayo" stands for "the Fifth of May" in Spanish. It is a holiday held on May 5 that commemorates the Mexican army's unlikely victory over French forces at the Battle of Puebla on May 5, 1862. While Cinco de Mayo sees limited significance and celebration nationwide in Mexico, the date is observed nationwide in the United States and other locations around the world as a celebration of Mexican heritage and pride.

I have numerous friends that are Mexican here in Moscow, and all of them insist on significant amounts of drinking during this holiday. My friends and I typically play drinking games on Cinco de Mayo, accompanied by watching recorded wrestling or fighting videos. Last year, we played a drinking game called "asshole," which is a card game. The loser is designated asshole, and has to deal the cards and remove them suring the game when the piled is cleared (the rules are highly complicated to explain in text, so I'll spare you). However, my friends and I always create an "asshole hat" that the designated asshole has to wear. It is typically made of s beer box and cans of the chosen drink. We also like to wrestle, box, and have a BBQ consisting of chicken, hamburgers and hotdogs and a warm fire. I love living in Idaho at times because it means being able to have a firepit in your backyard and loud music because most of your neighbors are just like you, Nine times out of ten, your neighbors hear the commotion next door, and instead of calling the cops, they come over and join you for a few beers and a celebration of just living another day.

I Still See You're Shining Today?:Soft Shifts of Lovelies

His knees prayed for a battery that would last

Her knees wondered if that bump in the dress was just fabric

His knees shifted and balanced and went over speeches

His knees bent and shook while he walked her down to meet them

His hands pushed and clicked and focused and apertured

Her hands held little boys shoulders to keep from floating

Her hands caught single tears that formed in dark slits

His hands had to let go.

Its eye remembered things most didn't see

Its breeze collected the soft lovelies around them

She whispered, "Should I try to hide the way I feel inside?"

He whispered, "I can tell the way you smile."

Last Thursday they began again

Leaving worried knees and fluttering hands behind

This Thursday they barely remember

Their eyes were so focused on the other

that they married.

"The Way I Feel Inside"-The Zombies

My Last Minute Blog

So... It is my turn to blog again. I have to be honest and say that I have not thought about what to write until the moment I sat down at the desk and opened my scratched and beaten Toshiba laptop a few minutes ago. I then proceeded to think of the ridiculously self centered things that I could tell you about. I do not dillude myself with the idea that anyone out there actually cares what I ate for breaskfast, whether or not I am getting good grades, or my opinion on political or local events.

I do not think there is someone reading write now who actually cares that I was up until three this morning watching an opera with subtitles on TV-or that I was both intrigued by and mocking of the magnificent costumes, giant stage, and lady in her late forties who was playing the lead (male) role, kissing a woman in her mid forties who was the lead soprano (female) role. You are not interested in the fact that I was up to three, wondering about the history of cross dressing in theatre, because I have insomnia, or that I have insomnia as part of a condition called post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).

Your life would be fine without knowing that in my Creative Non-Fiction Writing class a guy named Mountain ripped a page out of a brand new book to write a question to the author of said book, and thought nothing of it. Why would you care that I think Mountain is an amzaing name, even if that makes me a little hippie-ish, or that this action disturbed me. You have no way of knowing that when I was a child I stayed up until three in the morning most nights, sitting under the window in my bedroom for starlight, or hiding under the bed with a flashlight I stole out of the emergency kit, to read, or that this reading was the way I escaped the causes of my PTSD.

There is no point in telling you that my hardest assignment this year was to rip, tear, cut, glue and reinvent a perfectly good book as an art project, because most people would not see why this is difficult, why this felt like I was destroying a best friend. I can not explain to you that the only way for me to spend four hours doing this was to create a piece about my Fiance and I, and I can not explain why this made it acceptable to me because I was turning it into another testament of hope and a witness of the protection and safety that Jack represents for me. You might laugh if I tell you that I cried when Jack placed it next to a picture of us as the second decorative piece of "us" in his bachelor pad living room. It is almost as cool as his pink flamingo neon light. It would be foolish to think that you, my fellow reader, have an interest in my life, and I would be surprised if you are not reading this because you are in my english class.

But maybe you do care that I watch opera in the early hours. Perhaps you are reading this because this is the way you express the basic human need of connecting with another human. It is possible that there is universality in each person's experiences and you know exactly what it is to stay awake until three because you will not-you can not-fall asleep. It is possible that you know what it is to love books and all that they represent in the form of safety and escape and hope and stability-that they represent something missing from other parts of your life. It is possible that you care, but it is more likely you are getting graded on this. If that is the case, I more than understand. I wouldn't want to read what I have to say.

Let me first start off my saying: Happy Belated 420!
That being said, I hope everyone had the chance to swing by East City Park two weeks ago for the annual Hempfest.