This blog post will consist of a vlog reflecting on the revision of my Narrative Project. To prepare for the second draft of my Narrative Project, I read What is Fan Fiction -- and why is it making people nervous? (Stephen Downes), and listened to Rewinding and Rewriting: The Alternate Universes in Our Head (Hidden Brain Podcast). My revised paper was changed to third person and present tense, and includes an alternate ending.
1 Comment
This weeks blog post has two parts. First, I will be rewriting a scene of action from The Yellow Wall-Paper (Charlotte Perkins Stetson). The second part will be a scene from my past when someone close to me made a decision that had a negative impact on my life.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Never once have I felt an emotion so deep, so bold, so evil, just from the looks of a color. This place has some sort of something extra to it. My husband, John, constantly nails into my head that we're only staying here temporarily. "Three more weeks darling. You must rest and ignore your thoughts" he says. He always promises he knows what’s best for me. Because he is a doctor apparently he must know what I'm feeling, and how to cure it. It sounds logical, even thought I do not fully believe he can see how bad I’m hurting inside. So I nod politely, holding back the words I wish to say, and do what my husband says. I lay still in the creaky old bed. This wallpaper. It's almost as if it is something like a novel. So much to tell, so mysterious, yet intriguing. I can't fathom being suffocated any longer. The dingy yellow walls are beginning to close in on me. My eyes hurt from staring, yet I can not stop. Oh how much I hate this wallpaper. Day in and day out, I read the walls looking for an answer to my sadness. I promise you, the paper is turning me inside out. All I want is to be free. Free from the yellow cloud that I can’t escape from. The bars on the windows make me feel trapped, and being trapped is part of my comfort zone, yet for some reason I feel I must escape to find my happiness again. I spend two sleepless nights staring endlessly. From wall, to wall, to window, back to wall. It is finally our last night at this home from hell. John is staying out tonight for work. For the amount of time I’ve spent thinking and analyzing and rationalizing the past 3 weeks, I use this time to do the opposite. I simply walk over to the window and wrap my dry, cracked fingers around the cold metal bars. I softly push on them and oh! Oh my. The bars, they came off. Just like that. I quietly swing my legs through the window and off I go. I am free again, and happy. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ As I sat in math class during my freshman year of highschool, in my own little world, I felt my stomach twisting and wrapping itself up into one of those ridiculous pretzel yoga positions. I felt like my brain had lost it's operator, like that one episode of Spongebob where all his thoughts and memories were exploding all over the place. I was trying so hard to imagine all the possible places my mom could've been that morning. It was just so unlike her. She drove me to school every morning. ZZZZ ZZZ. I felt my phone buzz in the back pocket of the sweatpants I had on the night before, because of how hectic my morning was I just ran out the door for school without changing. I excused myself from the classroom and shuffled into the hallway to check my text message. It was from my dad. “Your mom was in a motorcycle accident late last night. I don’t know if she is going to be okay.” I felt the olive color of my skin flush to white from head to toe. My stomach released from that tight yoga position and exploded throughout my entire body. My throat closed up and I could feel my eyes leaking uncontrollably. As I navigated through the humid, grey concrete hallways, all I was focused on was catching my breath. I made it to my car and attempted to gather myself before driving to the hospital. All I could think about was the argument her and I had the night before which ended in me slamming my door in her face. I replayed everything in my head. It is completely mind-blowing to me how that morning, the second I opened my eyes, I immediately had a funny feeling in my stomach. I had no clue why, but I did. Come to find out my mom had went out for a drink after our argument the previous night. She got on a motorcycle with some drunk dude bribing her with cheesesteaks in the city. Little did she know he would hit a vehicle head on, causing her to fly off the back. He ditched the Ben Franklin Parkway because some how he was not injured at all, leaving her there to be rescued by the ambulance. I truly believe she has a guardian angel watching over her. This weeks blog post has two parts. First, I will be rewriting a scene of action from Bullet in the Brain (Tobias Wolff). The story was about a man who walked into a crowded bank. Two robbers end up coming in and the man instigates them which leads to him getting shot in the head. I will create a different scene within that story. Then, I will be composing a scene showing action in my current life. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Flat, washed out grey clouds lay across the sky like a blanket. Thin slivers of blue are struggling to peak through. Anders dragged his cranky self to the bank just before closing. There was a line almost out the door. He let out an annoyed breath of air and stood behind some woman who seemed to be whining about something he didn’t care about. Indeed, she was. “Can you believe that bank teller closed her station with all of these customers to be taken care of? Ugh!!!” she complained. “Unforgiveable. Heaven will take note” Anders responded, sarcastically. Her face, surprised, stared at him, and them stared past him. Suddenly her skin went white. “NOBODY MOVE AND NOBODY WILL GET HURT!” Two men, drenched in black all the way to their facemasks bolted through the bank doors. The room was robbed of any noise besides their scratchy, bold voices and deep breaths from the scared victims. Anders was one cocky man. He was not even phased by these men, surprisingly, he found them to be comical. He embraced a smirk growing across his face while the two robbers screamed at the customers. “You think I’m some kind of clown? You think you can fuck with me?” The man questioned Anders. “No.” “Fuck with me again, you’re history. Capiche?” The man said. Anders bursted out with an obnoxious laugh. The mans face went from olive to beat red. He twirled his gun out from his dainty jean pocket and into the palm of his sweaty hand and darted over towards Anders, who was still rocking that smirk. “That’s it!!!!” He screamed. The man was booking it towards him. Anders did a little side-step to the right, and wrapped his arms around his neck. With all his strength, Anders threw the man into one of the marble pillars. CRACK! Everyone in the bank gasped. The man laid still on the floor as a pool of blood began creeping out from underneath. He looked up only to see the camera had already been shot at. He took a minute to stare at the mythological creatures on the ceiling he had never noticed before. The woman who was in front of him in line began vomiting. Anders, not even the slightest bit flustered, looked around for the other burglar. He was more focused on grabbing the money and getting the hell out of there. So Anders decided to do the same. He walked out of the bank and back into the grey world. “Maybe I’ll try out the other bank tomorrow” he said. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I can literally feel the vibrations of the music throughout my entire body. My heart is pounding to the beat of the beat. The man on stage is leaking sweat from head to toe. His blue and red flannel gets unbuttoned while his mullet slicks down onto the back of his neck. I’m taking a sip as I’m jamming out to Morgan Wallen’s beautiful voice, accompanied by Dewey Beach’s finest voices in the background. Yet again, the ice cold drink lands directly on my shirt. I am now desperately scoping the room for a damn straw.
“HEY!!! Where’d you get that straw?!!!” I startled this short girl who is standing in front of my best friend Dana. “In the bathroom!” She responds. I give her a look of confusion, but at this point I don’t really care. I’m on a mission. Straw!!! Dana and I walk into the bathroom, and we both are looking in awe. In a bathroom, I know. But this is not just any bathroom!! The counter top is over-crowded with everything and anything a girl might need. From candy, to perfume, hair supplies, gum, lotion, and straws!! I grab it and plop it into my drink. “Oh, just leave a tip and you can take whatever you want!” A small voice says from behind us. I turn around and see a nice lady sitting in the corner. She has a pink cloth outfit on with dainty white sandals. Her hair is permed and her face is glowing. She is wearing a necklace that seems to be very old. It’s a brass owl with yellow eyes. “My name is Keesha, by the way. I was once you two girls. I always wondered why nobody thought of this back in my day. I hope you girls found what you needed” Keesha said, “I found this necklace in here months ago and for some reason it inspired me”. “This is amazing. You are such a great person for doing this all out of your own time and money!” Dana responds, as she throws in a 20$ bill. “Oh sweetheart thank you. Have a blessed evening!” We are walking out of the bathroom with smiles on our face. She gives off a vibe of such wisdom and pureness. There are good people in this world. Before composing this blog post, I read two pieces of writing called What is Creative Nonfiction? (Lee Gutkind), and Making Scenes in Memoir (Lee Martin). The authors of these readings wrote all about putting together and creating scenes in creative nonfiction pieces. In this blog post I will be creating a scene of a moment in my present life. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It is a beautiful Sunday afternoon as I lay on a stiff rainbow of threads, slowly swinging back and forth. Back and forth my thoughts are swaying, mimicking the leaves on the plant in front of me. My eyes are wandering, gazing into the ómbre blue sky. Salty fumes flowing consistently, creeping up and into my nose. I can hear the sound of the waves crashing, as well as the click click of the grill turning on. What a wonderful combination. My family is gathered in the kitchen whipping up a seafood smorgasbord. I can feel the hidden sun rays beaming on my forehead, as if it switched my brain into gear.
“A penny for your thoughts?” My aunt approaches me with her gentle yet strong voice. I snap out of my daydream. I didn’t even get a chance to think before responding. This is how I knew it's time to acknowledge my daydream. “It’s time. I need to begin a new chapter of my life. I can’t stop thinking about it.” I respond. My aunt waits for the right moment to slide on the hammock with me. She wraps her sun-kissed arms around me. “You have to do what’s best for you” she assures me. I can feel the heat of her skin seeping through her white t-shirt. “I know I do. But I know you know how terrible I am with handling change. I am so used to my routine. Working at that daycare for the past 3 years has brought so much joy to my life. I don’t want to abandon my babies.” I felt myself choking up. “All good things must come to an end in order for even better things to grow” my aunt responds as she swings off the hammock, leaving me to rock back and forth some more. She always knows how to get me to believe in myself. I wait for the swinging to slowly come to a stop. I lay still and imagine all 50 ways the conversation of me giving my notice would go. I know I can't work there forever. I also know I can not truly excel in college while taking care of 12 babies when I should be studying. I am at a point in my life where I should be thriving. Learning. I don’t want to feel so incredibly drained anymore. I love taking care of those children. However the toll it takes on me mentally and emotionally can not be justified. I sit up and place my bare feet onto the cool, smooth deck. I look out into the dunes, and let out a sigh of relief. I can finally clearly see a glimpse of the future ahead of me. The smell of the freshly steamed seafood and the vegetables on the grill is lingering over towards me. I get up and make my way back into the kitchen, feeling the love of the room smack me back into reality. I can do this. |
AuthorWelcome to the home of Katina Galante's blogs. Scroll at your own risk. Archives
December 2018
Categories
All
|