- My Reflective Essay -

-Note- Yes I do recall that all of my assignments that I have chosen for my portfolio were to be printed off. Unfortunately, I have been experiencing some major technical difficulties (my printer broke down several days ago), leaving me unable to print off all of my chosen assignments from my blogger account. Anyways, I have done my best to have it so my essay is along with the rest of my work on the blog, enjoy.

To start off, here is a list of the assignments that I have prepared for my portfolio:
- the Ode and Found Poem (2 poems)
- ISU Seminar Handout (1 descriptive)
- Dramatic Monologue (1 fiction)
- Journal #10 (1 autobiographical)
- Radio Play (1 expository/script)
- Sample Chapter, Sonnet -Facing the Sun- (2 pieces of polished work)
- Query Letter (1 formal letter)

From the first time that I had walked into the classroom, I had seen this class as an opportunity to help improve my writing skills, knowing that I could improve in such things as writing poetry. I had always thought of poetry as an aristocrat's reading material, never sure why though. From the first time I had walked into Mr. Pierce's class, I knew of nothing more than poetry, just sonnets because I practiced with them in my personal time. I had tried writing stories and tried other forms of writing, but I was never that good at it. I took this course as an opportunity to make myself more capable of writing the things that I wasn't able to, as to make up for my failed attempts for doing so.
When I began this course, I had felt a little uncomfortable about taking a class that is about writing in style. With the help of Mr. Pierce, I was able to write a script for the first time without that many major flaws in it. I wouldn't say that I am a better writer than I was before, but I would say that the class time was worth the effort. Effort and discipline is the key to success in my book, never came to doubt it and if I keep to it, maybe I'll get better.When we got into the poetry section, I would say that would be my favorite unit in the course, working on sonnets, odes, dramatic monologues and found poetry. From what I have learned, I plan to use this to somehow help me in my personal projects.

-Yeah, it's a short essay, but I got all of my points on the page, didn't I?

Imitation Piece - The Silver Chair

This is supposed to happen about one week after this book ends, providing a more effective ending for its reader. Enjoy this one for size, readers!!!!!

As the wind rustled in the surrounding trees about the schoolyard, Eustace had once again made visit to the soil of which he had buried his colourful clothes from Narnia. Once he had unearthed his old clothes covered in the dirt where he hid them, he had opened his knapsack to place them snuggly inside. While he was doing this, something strange had occured, an envelope had fallen out of one of the pockets and landed infront of his dirty knees. Eustace stared blankly at this envelope. He had lifted up the envelope and inspected it closely, noticing the wax imprint resembling the emblem of a lion. A letter from the Narnians? Who knows when that had gotten there, surely Eustace didn't remember retrieving an envelope while he was in Narnia. He ripped open the envelope and pulled out a letter, no surprise there. The letter was written upon a worn out piece of musty paper, only the beavers of Aslan's keep would know what was written on this paper. Eustace unfolded the musty paper, the letter was written quite legible. The bright youngster Eustace had begun to read this letter, insecure of what it was going to tell him.

'Son of Adam, I commend you for restoring peace to our kingdom. It is I, Aslan. The royal bloodline shall continue to flow through this kingdom. If any evil that shows its head, I shall summon you to this land to aid us in preserving that peace that belongs to the Narnians. They will welcome you with open arms as long as you keep this promise. Tell Jill that this letter was placed in your clothes after you had buried them.


-Your friend, Aslan.'

Eustace had sat there as Jill was calling out to him. He then turned around and saw her run towards him as the letter rested in his hand. Jill had asked him "What's that paper say in your hand?", then she took it out of his hand and began to read the letter. Eustace looked up at her face and tried to read her facial expressions, she looked unsure of what she was reading. Jill passed the letter back to Eustace and grinned. She looked down at Eustace and said in a cheerful voice "Looks like we have their thanks, it's nothing bad." Eustace slowly got up with the letter in his right hand and his bag of clothes in the other. "It's not that." he said "I just never knew that Aslan could write." Jill laughed at that remark and said "Well, maybe Rilian had to write the letter for him." Eustace wiped off his knees and placed his dirty hand over her shoulder. She threw his arm off of his shoulder and half-yelled at him "Hey, don't get my shirt dirty!" Both Jill and Eustace began to walk away from the pile of soil holding hands. During that awkward silence, it had occured to Eustace that there was a lot of sexual tension that he had held from Jill. He had stopped and spun Jill around to himself. She stuttered to Eustace "Wha-wha-what are you doing, Eustace?" Eustace stared at her with a bold expression on his face, it was getting pretty obvious by what he was thinking. He responded with a smug look on his face, "Jill, lets make babies." She was horrified by that statement. "What did you just say?" she asked in an irritated tone. Eustace lost the smug look and it turned into a frown, "Let's make babies?" She pushed Eustace away and growled "We haven't hit puberty yet and you're talking about mating? You're the most foolish boy that I've ever met!" Eustace lowered his head in shame. The wind in the trees got louder as the wind of silence rolled in again. He started to walk away from Jill by himself and then raised his hand as if he was going to ask a teacher if he could use the restroom. Eustace turned back toward Jill and asked quietly "What if we get to your place and fool around?" Jill let out a long sigh and said with a dull, monotone voice "Okay, but my parents will be home in one hour."

Imitation Piece (copied requirements)

Here are the instructions from your original ISU handout information as well as some clarification and expansion.

Imitation Piece. Now that you have some experience and expertise with your particular writer, prepare a two page “lost artifact.” This may be couple of missing pages from a novel, some recently discovered poetry or a letter to a loved one. Use a cover sheet, which is outlined below.

The goal here is for you to produce two manuscript pages (or the equivalent) that could have been written by your author and included in your primary novel. Ideally, if your work is put side by side with a couple of pages from your novel I won't be able to tell which is which.

Your Cover Sheet should include the following information:

The Asignment Title "Imitation of (your author)'s (title of novel)"
Your Name:
EWC 4C or 4U
The Date

Description: Explain what you have attempted to create and how it fits into the larger scheme of your novel. Explain what elements of your writer's style you have attempted to capture.

Attachment: Attach a page photocopied from your novel in order to demonstrate your writer's style. (I can help with this)

Language Lab

Here you go, boss.

1) Complete Sentence - 'I had slowly approached Jack and told him boldly a second time "Take the damn money!"

2) Incomplete Setence - 'Fearless.'

3) Independent Clause - 'Jack likes to sing.'

4) Comma Splice Error - 'I held the book, I got really sweaty.'

5) Fused Sentence - 'I never thought of it as an opportunity it is more of a set up strategy.'

6) Dependent Clause - 'Whenever he makes his visit, he makes sure nobody is watching him.'

7) Compound Sentence - 'Drake once again drew out his sword as he had flashed forward faster than I could see him.'

8) Complex Sentence - 'I told him strictly "I drank the elixir myself."

9) Adverbal Phrase - 'The experiment will be ready to test soon.'

10) Compound-Complex Sentence - 'Drake was the supplier of the material, but Jack, who isn't as handy as Drake, had sat back and watched me examine the parts.'

Journal #12- Free Write

-Future Ideas-

At the time being these days, the majority of my focus is at the Hair musical. What I plan to do afterwards is get back to work on my current series with Drake and the gang. Here is what is going to be done once I'm back on track:

-I'm going to resume creating locations and maps, due to the fact that I forgot to record some of the older ones or that I want to improve the idea.
-There will be a storyline structure check, if need be, I'll fix any flaws or mistakes.
-Create a comic based on background information for support.
-Design a final set of weapons and materials to use.
-Lastly, create a few more characters of choice from the traits of people that I know (don't ask, it's something I like to do to make things more interesting by making characters based off of actual people).

When I base characters off of people, I usually aim for ideas upon those who I can contact easier, building an experience from how that character will act. For example: I took my best friend, Chris and I took his traits such as his smarts and his sense of determination to make him into that of a military strategist. Following that, I took his traits of calmness and sharp vengeance (something that is a rare case in him) to create a type of sword that resembles a blade made of water itself.

Now you might be wondering, who would I be? That question lingered around a long time in my mind and it turns out that Drake is the characterization of myself. Originally, Drake was supposed to be the image of my old man, a figure of strength, courage and a sense of justice. The only difference was that Drake isn't too bright, so it can suit my standards as well (chuckles softly). To match that, he has a large appetite to support his multiple strengths which he may have gained or has yet to gain. He is also wielder of a mythical weapon that has existed since the dawn of the world that he lives in, this weapon resembles the power and might of what man can accomplish when they work together. This weapon, however, can only be wielded by those filled with the most courage, those without that courage will not be able to wield it, appearing that its weight will become too much for the weaker-hearted to wield.
I'm not here to put myself in a higher position than everyone else, but here is how I see it. Of all of those who think they're so tough, they live behind a mask and behind those masks are their weaknesses and fears. There are those, however, that do not hide behind those masks and possess the courage to succeed or to emerge victorious, this is where I tend to differ from other people, I don't fear challenge and opposition. So whatever you have to say about this, I am here to listen.

Query Letter - Shell Study Guide

Kyle Lowe
13896 Sodom Rd.
(905)-382-3277
L2E 6S6

Good morning Vietnam!!!!!!

Let me inform you that my work may be what you are looking for in today's literature. From what I have started on in my writing ideals as of late was adding a twist on the natural essence of life and the power of science. By putting them in the mix, you may think it sounds quite similar to Mary Shelley's 'Frankenstein', and this occurred as a problem. To solve this, I decided to mix it up even further, basing it from an old piece of work that I had done before this story came to conception, giving it a stronger backbone for the plot and the overall theme. As I had said, this new twist is taken from a shadier portion of old, previous work, how you could say "kicking up old dust into the fresh air." From that, it can provide a darker theme for the story together with an edgier state of mind for the reader, the edginess is one of the key points to the story.

That is only where it begins with as it is included with a comical tidal wave of life and energy that will leave the reader both amused and confused in one fell swoop. This is another additional twist handpicked and placed into the mix, by taking another factor from previous work and adding it into the plotline, adding the comic relief and action sequences, an emotional rollercoaster for all to see (or read). This acts as the things people will do in order to try to bring life back to their world in time of war and as for those who called death a disease. In the eyes of the elusive Dr. Jenkins, who believes in this philosophy, sees to it that he can restore life to all who have come to their bitter end, especially his deceased wife.

Mathew Piccirillo says "I can't believe that this is a book. I almost had a stroke!"

Edward Di Martino shouted in a crazed rampage "I'm going to kill the one responsible for putting me in this book, I did not sign up for this! I swear I saw someone writing inside some sort of lab journal while I was using the public facilities."

Arguably a gripping tale of sorts where the heroes are the ones behind the research, looking for an answer for their troubles in time of a war between neighbouring countries. Will there be a 'cure' for this disease? Can there be an answer for all of their troubles? Can I stop asking these questions now? If you find this as something you might be interested in, please contact me by dialing 905-382-3277 or contact my email, throwmonkeysontominefeild@hotmail.com. Happy readings and enjoy the rest of your day.

Kyle Lowe, Student

Sample Chapter - Shell Study Guide - Chapter 4

Shell Study Guide – Sample Chapter Assignment

Chapter 4

It was late one night while I was working at the lab with Dr. Jenkins, making the final

adjustments to our latest experiment, the Shell unit. Dr. Jenkins had requested that we should

order some take-out because this might take all night. I picked up the phone and ordered a pizza

for delivery, then returned to Dr. Jenkins to assist him with the unit. About thirty minutes later,

there was a ring from the doorbell and so I had answered it. It turned out to be Jack, the

delivery guy I was friends with. I welcomed him inside and told him to watch the experiment. I

asked Dr. Jenkins "Is the Shell ready for testing?", he answered very sarcastically, "Oh yes,

Edward. That explains why I'm still working on it, jackass." From that response, I took it in as

another dumb question asked. I walked over to pay Jack but he declined on taking the money.

So I asked him "Don't you need it, for your job?" He looked up at me and said in a rather shaky

voice "To tell the truth, I got fired three weeks ago. I'm not a delivery boy anymore." I then

looked down at the pizza box and then glanced back at him to ask "Then why the hell did you

order a pizza for us?" A few seconds later, he got up and started dancing, I knew what this

meant. You see, I have a lot of weird friends and what makes Jack special is that he thinks life is

a dream where a song for a musical can happen at any given time. He began to sing a song in a

confessional, apologetic manner.

Eduardo I must also confess.

That pizza I gave you

Has been in my car

For three weeks!

I apologize for not telling you sooner,

But I was ashamed

To tell you the truth.

Oh, I love the friendship

That you and I share....

Jack was interrupted by Dr. Jenkins. "Goddammit! I'm trying to concentrate boy! Furthermore,

that pizza tastes stale." Jack and I walked back into the lab as Jenkins was reassembling the

outer parts of the Shell unit, it was almost completed. I picked up my lab journal and jotted down

our latest course of experimental events. Dr, Jenkins finished the assembly of the unit, he stood

there with a wide grin on his face before he cheered "Done!" All three of us stood around this

model that rested upon the doctor's table, observing this abomination of nature. Jack especially

took interest into it, he had never seen something like this, but he had no idea how it works or

what it was for that matter. "How will you make it work?" Jack asked Dr. Jenkins.

"We will animate it using the elixir that we had made months ago.... the one we had to pry you

from."

Jack jumped at that statement and replied "Come on, that was one time!" Dr. Jenkins took a

large sample of elixir and had injected it into the neck of the lifeless body. Jack asked why the

doctor was testing this on a dead person before, but he never got a straight answer out of him.

This project from the start, was an attempt to bring his wife back from the dead, Dr. Jenkins’

dream was going to become a reality. We waited for the elixir to take effect and as we knew it,

the Shell unit started to move by itself and started to make eerie sounds. As I looked at Dr.

Jenkins, he was getting all nervous and sweaty from excitement. I then gestured to Jack and

whispered to him "Hey, if this works, it will be one stiff less to worry about." Jack chuckled as I

formed a cheesy grin on my face. Dr. Jenkins approached the experiment slowly, then it

suddenly leaped upright on the table. We all paused as we stared upon its face, which resembled

the face of Dr. Jenkins' wife, Jill. Jack got up onto a lab table and started to sing again.

Joy to the world,

The dead have risen,

To do as we please.....

Forever living,

Forever without death.

He was once again interrupted by Dr. Jenkins, who shouted "Jack, shut that mouth or I'll

sew it shut!" Jack started to kick lab reports off of the table which he stood on and picked up

bottles of various potions and sniffed them. One of which he began to drink a green, rather

viscous liquid compared to most potions. Dr. Jenkins turned back to the Shell as it stood there.

Jack seemed to lose interest in the experiment and said "Boring, I'll catch you later at the

movies." He was about to leave, but then the Shell finally reacted. Jill had leaped over Dr.

Jenkins and kicked Jack off of the lab table, seeing this filled me with a sudden shock of fear and

concern for all of our safety. Jack slowly got up, slightly dazed and spoke confused "What just

happened?" Jill landed in front of Jack as he struggled to move, she lurched forward as it was

about to attack him, I looked around for a weapon to use. I had spotted a gun on the lab table, I

picked it up and shot at the Shell in the back. It collapsed and fell to the floor while Jack was

shaking in fear, then he arose and chuckled again like nothing had happened. I called over to him

in concern "Jack, are you okay?" as he stumbled over to the table to lean on it. He had a rather

strange look on his face like if something was on his mind, then he glanced over at Dr. Jenkins as

the room grew silent. "Doc', I thought you knew what you were doing with this project." he said

with a harsh tone in his voice. Dr. Jenkins finally spoke after an awkward moment of silence, "Of

course I know what I'm doing. If I didn't know what I was doing, then I wouldn't have tried to

bring Jill back to life!" Another awkward silence filled the room, then I realized that the gun that

I was holding was just a stun gun, which means it's very unlikely that the failed experiment was

taken care of. After looking over the table, the Shell's body started to move again, Jack came up

to me and asked what's wrong.

I pointed at the body and backed up to the doctor's table. Jack turned towards me and said "You

sure told that thing who's boss." What he didn't know was that it wasn't dead, I yelled "Behind

you!" Then Jill grabbed Jack from behind, he started to cry for help. Dr. Jenkins yelled "Use the

plasma drill!", I pulled the drill off of the table and turned on the drill. As I ran over to save Jack,

the plug ripped out from the wall and I shouted "Shit!" Jill let go of Jack to retrieve a sword that

rested upon the next table. This sword was found with the original Shell that we based our

technology on, we had almost no idea how it worked, but we were told that it eats souls. Thinking

about that, it sparked idea for a future experiment, God knows what using it's sword will do. Jill

clenched the Shell's hand around the sword and lofted it high, freezing all of us into place, with

fear. She wailed ominously with a sharp screech as she lunged towards me, pounced and

prepared to attack. I lifted a nearby stool, then threw it at Jill, but there was no success. She had

sliced the stool in half, so I rolled out of the way, just narrowly evading the sword. The floor was

covered in blood, it wasn't my blood, but the stool's blood. Jack and I made a dash for the supply

closet and locked ourselves inside, temporarily while we thought up a plan. Jack then brought up

a clever idea, to contact my assistant for help. You see, my assistant has been known to have

battled these foes before, so he could easily take this one down. I pulled out my phone and dialed

his number, as in that split second, the phone that he was supposed to have turned out to be in

my pocket. But luck was on my side, he smashed his way through the brick wall and pulled out

his phone from my pocket. He threw it to the floor and crushed it with his foot, leaving the

buttons and broken plastic in the middle of the supply closet floor.I then decided to speak after

that unusual introduction, "Drake, we need your help."

"With what?" he asked.

"The experiment has gone horribly wrong!" I cried. Jill broke through the door, Drake turned

and noticed that it was the Shell experiment that I was talking about. He puffed out his chest and

shouted "Be vanquished, foul fiend!" as he rammed into the Shell out through the doorway.

Drake then walked back over to me and rummaged through his knapsack, pulling out some sort

of booklet with plenty of dirty fingerprints and yellowing pages. He held it out to me and smiled,

"Here's that book I was talking about, boss." He ran back into the lab to do battle with Jill.

Drawing out his sword, he leaped high into the air above Jill as she was anticipating his first

move. He forcefully pounded downward, driving her back while she blocked his sword. Jill

pounced forward again, this time Drake ducked under the blade as it got jammed into the wall.

He made his move by severing the arm of the Shell's body, warding her backward to avoid

Drake. Jill was still capable of fighting, despite the fact that the blood-like, neon blue-coloured

elixir used to animate her was dripping out from where her arm was. She tripped Drake and he

fell to the floor, leaving him open to be attacked. i finally decided to take action by distracting

her. I picked up a round bottle of antidote and smashed it against the back of Jill's head,Dr.

Jenkins then fainted, I knew I was going to get barked at for doing that. Jill turned towards me

and grasped her cold, lifeless hand around my neck. By doing so, this left her vulnerable as her

back was turned to Drake, so he used his sword to pierce through her chest, almost getting me as

well if it were another five inches. This was followed by decapitation, lopping off Jill's head and

the elixir spewed out all over the armoured body. The body toppled over after Jack waltzed over

and and nudged at it. "That was cool!" Jack exclaimed.

"All in a days work." said Drake. I asked him about the book and he flipped through the pages to

something he wanted me to see. He paused, stopped flipping through the book and let out a

hearty laugh, so I looked over the topside of the book to read the page. This page contained

information on the monster known as "Seaman", then I looked over the quote "Don't let them

form into large groups." I began to chuckle from that and then I took the book to find the page

on Shells (if there was one). After flipping through a dozen pages, I found a page with information

on Shells. "Well, here it is. An answer to our problem." I said. I read the page and here is what it

said:

A Soulstealer in the form of a soldier. It's body is a faded armour, brought to life by the

Corruptive Seeds, animated as a strong warrior. Can wield any of the weapons that are linked to

Soulstealing.

Corruptive Seeds, is that what what supplies the power of life into inanimate objects? The

purpose of those 'seeds' is easy to understand by its name, to corrupt, to animate something with

some sort of evil ambition. However, the Shell reacts differently under the same influence, but

why? There were questions that only science could answer in this time. As far as I would know

about this, I had a lot yet to uncover. From all this thinking, I lost track of what was going on.

Drake and Jack were arguing in the washroom, I could hear Jack squealing "Dude, stop looking

at my penis!"

"Well sorry if you decide to turn while you're still going." said Drake.

"You threw your bag at me!"

The argument continued as I took notice in the Shell's sword again, still lodged in the wall. I

approached it slowly to retrieve the artifact, but Drake shouted "No, don't touch that!" He

marched up in front of me and continued. "Boss, if you touch that, you're going to become one of

the bad guys."

"Who?" I asked, confused.

"Hold on", he flipped through the book again. This time he showed me a page on a rather unusual

selection, known as the 'Soulstealer Clan'. "This is what the Shells and the sword are from." said

Drake.

"So how am I supposed to get this sword then? It is important for my research, Drake." He held

out his hands, "Give me your gloves." I put my lab gloves on his held out hands. Next, he

stretched his legs and held out his right hand at the sword. He ripped the sword out of the wall

and juggled it as he ran over to the lab table. Then he dropped it there and breathed deeply,

acting exhausted from doing that. "What's wrong Drake?" I asked.

"Boss, don't pick it up." he said breathlessly.

"What happened?" He took my hand and held it above the edge of the sharpened-looking blade.

I began to feel this ominous surge of energy in my forearm, it felt like when you get angry, the

tension that fills out through your entire body. This didn't last long, though, this energy was then

drawing away my body's energy. I began to feel lightheaded, weaker by the second, possibly

beginning to lose consciousness. He finally let go of my arm, allowing me to back away. I gasped

for air as Jack watched curiously, appearing as the odd one of the group. He looked at me and

said "You okay, Eddie?" You look like hell."

"Yeah, I'm fine." Jack picked up a bottle of the blue, glittering elixir and twisted off the lid. "I'm

sure thirsty!"

"Jack, don't drink that!" I yelled at him.

"Ed, I ran out of money and this is the best thing you guys got around here."

"That elixir is needed for experimental use only!"

At that moment, Drake was chugging a container of of the elixir behind Jack. Drake licked his lips

and dropped the container onto the floor, he belched as he had made his way over to me.

"That is quite some fruit punch you got there, boss."

"It isn't for drinking! It's for our experiment."

"Want a sandwich?" said Drake, pulling out a sandwich out from his knapsack.

"What kind is it?" I asked.

"Oh, ummm... There's some ham, mustard, cheese and peanut butter."

I held up my hand to decline the offer, "No thanks, Drake. I'm allergic to nuts." I winked over at

Jack and he caught onto the joke. He started to laugh and he lifted up the bottle of elixir to pass

it to me.

"Drink it, man." said Jack.

"Why should I?"

"Hey, boss! The doctor ain't here." said Drake from behind the lab table. "It's like he got up and

waddled his penguin body outta here."

"I bet he's ranting in his lab journal someplace." I said, uncaring.

Jack picked up another bottle of elixir and twisted off the lid, placing it in his mouth.

"Ah, what the hell!" I said, sucking back on the fruit punch-flavoured elixir. I took out my

sunglasses to put them on my gorgeous face (which I must say so myself), I then climbed onto

the lab table and held out my hand to Jack. He took my hand to climb up and I said "Jack, lets

sing the song."

"Which one?"

"Oh, you should know which one." I said before I made that cheesy grin on my face again. We

cleared our throats when Drake sat down on the lab stool.

I turned to Jack and asked "Ready?"

"Ready." he snickered as he raised his thumb as a sign of approval. Drake popped in a computer

disk and the music started to play. He exclaimed "Ready, boss." After the song introduction, we began to sing a tune like this:

We're two lonely guys

Livin' in a lonely paradise,

The true story lies

In these sexy guys.

"Hey man, we know how it is." Jack said confidently.

Because...

I got two kidneys

Under my skin.

I got them for work,

Got them for business,

Gimmie a break, man,

Here's my sunglasses, Dan.

I took off my sunglasses and wiped them off, then put them back on. Jack and I climbed down

from the table to lift Drake from his seat.

Oh, darling

My sweet old octopus,

If I weren't so lonely

I would make you into a purse.

Forget about childhood stuff,

I was only a kid.

Drake applauded and clapped with joy, for so I had said "That's it for now folks. Have a good

night!"

Journal #11 - A Piece of Fiction - Mr. Lowe

I believe that fiction is easier to write than reality or autobiographies, there is a few reasons to why I believe so. When you think fiction, what comes to your mind? Maybe it's a flying beluga or perhaps a world that has been eclipsed in darkness for centuries as the inhabitants live under a dreary enchantment that can unravel to their inevitable end. Fiction leads the mind to that of the imaginative, fantasy-related genre that just glues the reader to the book, it draws that 'magical' feeling into our perspective.
That's just where it begins, on a given set of terms, it can be used to assist us in trying to understand what we can't manage to understand with science, a series of indescribable phenomena. Such as that of the Twilight Zone series, this show in general was about using your imagination to try to understand what it is that science can't determine as fact or fiction itself.
I also believe that deep down inside all of us, there is that 'magical' desire that we wish to have as a reality, but not all of us can see it as easily as the next person. Fiction takes that element of desire and draws it onto the page in what we see as the interesting, yet satisfying thing that we might want to be or live in.
We all live in a world that has such limited supplies to entertain us because our attention span is getting smaller within each generation it comes by. The more advanced our technology develops, the further this problem will go, but why is this? The child's mind is known to run on imagination, their minds drift out of place. Now that is a bad thing, they give into their desires to try and be on top of the world and this can lead to cockiness. What it takes is to whip the kids into shape is discipline, good old-fashioned discipline, which can be served on a silver platter or as a slap to the face.
I don't belive that fiction writing is for everyone, there is some exceptions, just throwing that out there. Here is my example: Imagine if a kid reads the Twilight series, I don't mean that this kid is probably going to start having sexual fantasies of vampires, but by reading this, they will not understand the real complications that love can kick up into real life.
Just keep this in mind, fiction may not be the best thing for people to read, but it is by far the more favorable type because it can be comical, dramatic and possibly whitty. This is what I have to say, some of the fiction writers are quite incapable of making their story captivating and moving (I'm not pointing myself out as an exceptional writer here). For those who are capable of making of doing so, I would pat them on the back for doing a good job of displaying the imaginative wonder that they were seeking while writing their literature.

-Idea for a Chapter- (not for class!)

Okay, so get this. There is two guys in a room, one of them gets shot and it's not suicide. The other man is trying to figure out who had killed the man, knowing that he did not cause this event to take place.

Just a personal idea, so I'm just gonna keep this one as an idea if I can't think of anything later on.

-Character Types- (this isn't for class!)

Character: Characterization is one of the five elements of fiction, along with plot, setting, theme, and writing style. A character is a participant in the story, and is usually a person, but may be any persona, identity, or entity whose existence originates from a fictional work or performance.
Characters may be of several types:

• Point-of-view character: the character by whom the story is viewed. The point-of-view character may or may not also be the main character in the story.

• Protagonist: the main character of a story

• Antagonist: the character who stands in opposition to the protagonist

• Minor character: a character that interacts with the protagonist. They help the story move along.

• Foil character: a (minor) character who has traits in aversion to the main character

Journal #10 - Most Memorable Moments in Highschool

As teachers, we are often reminded that some of the most valuable lessons students learn in high school aren't the ones we plan for in lessons. A student, for instance, may learn more (in life terms) from a teacher who refuses to accept a late assignment than from one who teaches her how to factor binomials.What have been some of the most important lessons or skills, both curricular and non-curricular, that you have learned in high school? What are some of the moments from the past 4 or 5 years that you think you will be most likely to remember as an adult? Don't forget to be reflective...

I gotta say, in my lifetime, I had a lot of laughs, shits and giggles really. Bumpy roads, good times and the bad times.... I've had it all to be honest. I could also say this for high school, really a lot of hit and miss moments here and there. "Where will this goof start his rant?" would be the first question I assume that the reader will ask. It all began in my meadow, while I was meditating and listening to the crickets chirping before my first day of high school, the time before my first visit to HELL.
Well, actually I am not exactly overjoyed by highschool, but it sure beats living at home, working the fields and raising cattle. I never really cared for school because of F.J. Rutland, the worst school I ever went to, until Mr. Enns showed up, school for me sucked.

I would think that one of my best high school memories would be when I met my best pal, Chris Essig. Second semester, period 2: art class. I walked in and sat down at a table, unaware of what I was going to be forced to do, not sure of how to feel. As the school days passed, I glanced over at a table of people who were laughing and joking around and so I asked myself "Who the hell are those guys?" They were my future friends, but I was such a jerk. I walked over and abused them from time to time because I had nothing better to do. Some I have come to like and some I've come to detest. After countless (three and a half) years, Chris and I have become like two cactus' and one rock, inseperable straight guys, partners in crime. To me, I see Chris as the brother that I could've had, but didn't get, which by saying that would just lead into another story that I might explain at another time.

Another good memory comes in a chain of little, mini memories wrapped up in a series:
Nathan's "emotional" outbursts. From the 10th grade until today, this guy has really flipped out over the stupidest things. There's this one time at a fry truck with me, my friends and Nathan and he bought his food and sits down on this unstable picnic table. Now this table flips over and his food falls on the ground. He starts yelling at us that we should've stopped the table from flipping, but we couldnt because we weren't standing near it. Just between you and me, he has more than his fair share of 'frozen moments'. What I mean by this is that when he's just pissy enough, he stops moving, stops what he's doing and puts his head down..... then dead silence.
-Personal thought here, he reminds me of a cheap, huskier version of Donald Duck.

-Grade 9, Semester 2, Period 4: Gym/Health class-
I made a couple friends in this class: Ed DiMartino and James Murray. This class was rather interesting and scary, especially the health class..... I dread the day about the sperm and whatever flavor it may have (I was told about that, don't tell anybody).

Well, I don't want to say too much, but that's just a sample of what I remember. I will say this now instead of later. Goodbye and enjoy reading!

ISU Novel Choice

This is my choice for an ISU novel: C.S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia, The Silver Chair.

Journal #9

-On Poetry-

Now that you've had a chance to dwell with poetry awhile, reflect on what you feel is its usefulness and relative importance in the grand scheme of the universe. What would life be like without poetry? What arguments could be made for doing more poetry than we do in public school?

Did your experience this time around change your relationship with poetry at all? Which was the easiest poem to write? Which was the most difficult? Are you left with any questions about poetry or poets in general? Have you any desire to read and/or write more poetry independently of this class?

Oh my, now that's a good question. Where should I begin? Well, to start, but without poetry, songs may not have reached their conception as we know them today. If we did more poetry in school, of course, I would enjoy that, but not everybody would agree to that idea. "Why not?" you may ask, I believe there is a pretty simple answer that we all can understand. Not all minds are alike, so in conclusion, not all of us are going to be capable of writing effective poetry. Although it is good that most people think differently, it can lead to certain frustrations, time after time.
I wouldn't really say that my relationship with writing poetry hasn't changed all too much, I still enjoy it, even after writing in new styles. Believe it or not, unlike most people, I guess, the easiest type of poetry for me to write is the Sonnet. I managed to take some time in writing a few out and after that, it just occurred to me that sonnets are my favorite type of poems. To me, the most difficult types of poetry would be the Found poetry and Imitation poetry. Behind the wheel of the flat-tired bus that is my mind, moving at a rate of 25 mph, my fragile, egg shell mind, most things work in reverse. If people think it's easy to make found poetry, I'm going to be wasting hours on end, trying to understand how it all works. If it's a sonnet, on the other hand, it will be easier for me, but more challenging for the people around me. That's how 'special' I am, the difficult stuff appears easier, but the easier stuff confuses me over and over.
After working through this 'Poetry Unit' as it is called, I heard that Mr. Pierce said that we aren't going to be studying all types of poetry, which I understand the reasons why. Either if it's not for our maturity or that there might not be enough time to look at all of them. I devised a few questions to possibly ask Mr. Pierce:
- Mr. Pierce, why didn't we try Haikus?
- Are you hiding more poetry from us apart from Limericks and those 'Dada' poems I wrote in the seventh grade?
- What's the next unit again? I forgot.
- Oh boy! if I came back next year, would we be doing the same types of poetry?
- Is it true that if you wear your tie too tightly, that you will lose blood circulation to your brain?
Ahem, now this will be a surprise to you. I would be interested to read and write more poetry in this class, indeed. I enjoy poetry, to read and write, it's what I do.... sometimes.

Dramatic Monologue - Scoutmaster

Remember how I talked about the Scoutmaster in one of my previous notes? Well, here he is! I made him a background story and made in the form of a NARRATIVE MONOLOGUE!!!!!!
Enjoy.

-Scoutmaster Monologue-

Greetings and welcome, who am I,
You may wonder.
Why I am the Scoutmaster,
A man with the brain
A guy with the rulebook,
Following the rules is the plain
Essentials to a moderate lifestyle.
I take your kids in; I take them on trips,
By the fly on my short shorts,
I won't let them down.
I shout out my love for the wild,
The bears and the bees,
Scents that are quite mild
And a deer when it pees.
When the urine is fresh, I stick in my nose,
I stop and sit back, looking at the moss that grows;
What the thing is that the parents don't understand
That life in the woods isn't as crazy as it seems.
Rabies and poison ivy is where it's at,
Mouthwash and toilet paper if you learn to improvise;
Oh my, what the outdoors is!
It is such a wonder and such a glorious day,
Would it be a shock if I told you I wasn't gay?
Like it or not, I taught your kids to use guns,
Don't you dare yell at me, it wasn't for puns.
Next time you're out in the woods
You might get attacked by a bear,
Don't ask for my help
If you can't scare him off.
If your kids act like a dog that begs,
They will help me shave my legs;
Oh, what a life it is...
To take a stroll in the outdoors.
To look for creatures like boars,
Gazing across the street for whores.
Oh, the child's mind, what a device;
A tape recorder, evidence for a lawsuit.

At one point after another, I was brought to court
Accused of violating children,
Corrupting their minds.
I told the judge "I did nothing of the sort."
He glared down at me, after calling me 'Sport';
I reached into my knapsack
And pulled out a dead skunk,
Then I told him "If you send me away,
I'll stick this in your bed."
After squirming in fear, he let me go.
I ran out of the courtroom,
Shouting "Honey, I'm home!"
You may think I'm a monster
Or a perverted, bad man,
Don't worry, sweet pea....
I'm the Scoutmaster, man.

Ode - Ode to Fantasy

Before thinking about what I was going to write a poem about, I thought that all dreams had a purpose, but I have come to learn that not exactly all of them might be easy enough for us to understand. So I chose to write about dreams and fantasies to reflect my thoughts about it.

-Ode to Fantasy-

When we sleep in the night-time, we let go
Of all the struggles that we come to see
We enter a world we seem to know,
A place of comfort, special place to me.
We all dream, we all think of that one dream,
To have it come to life, for good will;
If it's lust or desire, it foresees,
As egg-whites or flour or a fresh cream.
In a barren land, where we are to kill,
Not just an army of men, but some fleas.

Dreams and nightmares, equally one,
The fear that we feel leads to our loss.
It smothers us until resting is done,
Take control of yourself, you are the boss;
Don't sweat it, kid, luck is on your side.
Nightmares just come and go, night after night,
Darkness of the dream world, as we know,
Suck in your gut, show us your pride.
Don't give up on yourself, face the light,
It will wash away, like the melted snow.

When we think of fantasy, we go out

Of our heads to see what is real,

We fear reality, without a doubt.

Consider it a lost cause, what to feel.

In our souls' content, you forget

About all of the times you let go,

Memories lost are moments of old pain.

Truth given away is what you regret;

Take the fantasy apart, take it slow,

Will you live your life or dream once again?

Lyrical Poetry - Brotherly Love

This poem I wrote is just a gathered up set of feelings that I have felt not too long ago which remained glued to my memory. This sounds kind of stupid to say, but this is what I was feeling. I guess that you could say it's like that compassionate feeling you have for a special friend and not like a girlfriend, like a friend that you have a brotherly-like relationship with.

-Brotherly Love-

Where do I begin to tell my story?
It has many ups and downs
Would you take any interest in me
Or just give me lots of frowns?
When we eat our daily supper,
What we consider as our sustenance;
Are you satisfied with what you get?
When it comes down to me, you will feel one of two things.
Either you feel encouraged
Or maybe unwell.
Just open your heart,
Come out of your shell;
You don't have to lie,
No need to hide.
I'll be waiting around for you just in case,
If you get sadly or lonely, I'll stick around,
Because this isn't my story, I'm a part of yours.

Narrative Poetry - Perspective of the Void

This poem may not seem like a narrative poem or narrative at all, so allow me to point this out if need be. The narrator is from the perspective of somebody who may or may not actually exist, made to appear as a minor remnant of existence. This narrator displays their believed to be summarized story of humanity and how it is seen in their eyes. I also must confess that this does relate to me in some ways, but not entirely. Read and comment, please and thank you.

-Perspective of the Void-

Here is a story of the night,
Which causes to fill us with fright.
Why we all live under the light,
Should we fear the force of God's might?
Born of darkness, we are the weak ones,
We tell jokes, stories, lies and puns.
We are survivors, kings of pain;
Full of pride, we take our lord in vain.
Under Lucifer's hand, I stand;
People of Earth, who command,
Beware of the traitors who lurk.
In the night, who wields the dirk
Will harvest the lives of the strong.
You can fear the fact, I'm not wrong.
Light and darkness, which I so hate,
The foggy road ahead lead to my fate.
You conquer a land and want peace,
Once this starts, it will never cease.

Extra Poem - Additional Sonnet

Over the March Break, there was somebody, not going to point any fingers here, but they were getting on my nerves. The point is, they made me angry by writing a poorly made poem about their 'feelings', now that's a new low. Since I knew that this person was aiming below the belt, I thought to myself "Maybe it's not such a bad idea to retaliate back upon someone who thinks so low of me," and that's what I did. After piecing together my thoughts about this person, I wrote it out and here it is. Enjoy :)

Story of the Confused One

You say that I am your own enemy;
You think I am just out to get you,
Bare me your wills child, your dull feelings.
Learn to grow up, your tricks are long past due.
Give up the damn act, I am unimpressed;
You're a slave to your feelings, just a pest,
I hold back the hate, feelings unexpressed.
You make yourself weak and wreck the love nest.
You call me a rat, you call me a snake.
What you don't realize is that I don't care
Of all of those 'episodes' that you make;
We don't play by your rules, they are unfair.
You need to face reality, get a hint,
It's not your fantasy, not a fresh mint.

Journal #8 - Free Write

-Free Write-

Lately, I have been asking myself this question off the top of my head "For each character that I've made up to this point, what is their point?" So far I have come down to the conclusion that most of the characters that I haven't made background information on can still be made during this period of time, before I get to a different topic in my work. For example: one of my older characters, known as the Scoutmaster, has almost no back story at all. I mean, yeah, I made him just for kicks, but he can still be useful some point in the series. On the other hand, the Scoutmaster isn't one of my main characters that I have created, so should I take my time and think up a good set of information for him? The answer to that is yes, even though he doesn't play as a major role at all. Here is my original idea for him - when I made him, I had made him as a redneck stereotype because I wasn't all too fond of rednecks, hell, I'm still not fond of them. The Scoutmaster also had the assistance of the scouts, who each carried a rifle or shot gun, you may be asking why I decided on that, and my answer would be like "Yeah, what do you think scouts learn to do, help the elderly cross the streets?"Okay, that was a bad example because some boy scouts may attend to help the elderly cross the streets.

I also got this general problem with a few villains in the process, some of them tend to share the same motive. Now, sharing motives isn't that bad, but when they start to sound alike, that's when it crosses the line. It's like watching the Brady Bunch re-runs on the television. I manged to fix this problem by diversifying the personalities of the villains and their back ground stories, which really made a difference. For example: the villainess Scorcho. Originally a demon with two serpent heads, which the left head breathed frosty air as the right head spit flames. The newer Scorcho, however, is now a dark sorceress who controls these two demons. After a series of events, she returns as some sort of strange creature on time and time again. Only after that, she comes back one last time as the original dark sorceress for her final showdown.

the Found Poem

-My Found Poem-

an addictive, engrossing, believable, heart-rending story.
"Long live the King," hailed Entertainment Weekly upon the publication of Burger King,
And the man with the diamond patterns on his socks said, "Oh Christ. Oh Christ."
-BIKE OF THE YEAR & OTHER HALL OF FAME ENTRIES-
This improbable story of Christopher's quest to investigate the suspicious narrative quotes.
Jill and Eustace must rescue the King from the evil Witch.
Never bend your head. Always hold it high.
An old lady who is about to die, an old friend who once saved your life.

Here are my sources:
From scanning the books 'On Writing', 'The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time', and 'the Silver Chair'. I also looked upon the cover of a Dirt Bike magazine and glanced at the papers which were stapled to the wall next to where I was sitting at the time.

the Sonnet - Facing the Sun

-Facing the Sun-

I have been in the dark, contemplating.
Left in the shadows without my own light,
Nobody has a sure understanding
That to get out of here, you have to fight.
You live and learn, laugh and play just for fun.
To live or die, this is how we all go;
We live in the heat or we dodge the sun,
We face these conditions before our foe.
Get loose from the rules, get loose from the pride,
Life is an adventure, not a kid's game;
Find your true courage as you make your stride,
The anger in you heart turns into flame.
If you go into a fight, give it your all,
Keep up your speed and try not to fail.

Imitation Poetry - White Fog

Imitating the poetry of famous authors can be a great way to practice writing poetry.

Your first writing task is to find a poem that you like by the poet of your choice, and to write an imitation of that poem. The poem should be at least 8-10 lines in length. If the original poem that you choose to imitate is longer than this, you may choose to imitate just a few stanzas instead. The poem you create should reflect your poet's style, including the following:

White Fog - by Sarah Teasdale

Heaven-invading hills are drowned
In wide moving waves of mist,
Phlox before my door are wound
In dripping wreaths of amethyst.

Ten feet away the solid earth
Changes into melting cloud,
There is a hush of pain and mirth,
No bird has heart to speak aloud.

Here in a world without a sky,
Without the ground, without the sea,
The one unchanging thing is I,
Myself remains to comfort me.

-My Imitation Poem-

Sky-touching slopes are lost
Into the dark whirling mist,
The cold air leaves its fresh frost
Which leaves me to clench my fist.

Darkness surrounds the whole earth
The sunset has come too soon,
Starless skies have given birth
Risen up high comes the moon.

Here in a world without a sky
Without my friends, without my eyes,
The only one person left is I
I am the only one who dies.

Journal #7

"The Myth of Technology"In the 1950's, futurists predicted that the invention of labour saving machines such as the household dishwasher and robots in factories meant that the common worker would enjoy a 3 day work week. Ironically, improvements in technology have led to the disappearance of better paying, skilled work and people working harder than ever before. What is your opinion? How much does technology improve your life and the lives of people in general?

That is a good question to ask, seriously, I am not too sure on how to answer that question. Our technology today is beginning to go from performance to sheer entertainment, our music systems with additional functions. I have come to ask myself this question a couple times "Is it actually necessary to add the extra functions to our hand-held technology?" It really depends on how you look at it because you are getting your money's worth spent on such a device. If you know me well enough, I tend to break things accidentally pretty often so what I would ask for is something that can resist a drop test or whatever else can go wrong. The rate of these things breaking is pretty high, I mean I heard a lot of stories about ipods and phones breaking so I'm thinking that they can't have that function.

Technology in general, it takes a lot to produce, but is easy to use. If we use it for assembly production line, it's alright because who can keep up with that? Machines are good to an extent, but what we don't realize is that we need to work for money, like making burgers, they each need to be made with love. There are some things that really shouldn't be done by machine: making burgers, cloning and of course, being a critic. Machines are just what we use to make our lives easier, not to replace our way of life in an overall sense that we only talk through texting and silly expressions.

Writing a Children's Story - The Gift (just for the kids)

Assignment: Write an 8-10 page children’s story. (4U students may aim for 12-14 pages).
Make your story an adaptation of an adult story. In order to deal with mature themes you will need to adapt (rather than omit) some elements.
Consult the chart above for ideas on how to (and how not to) construct it in such a way that it will appeal to children.
Include 4 major and 4 minor graphics. *If you are artistically challenged, you may trace your visuals. You may not cut and paste.
Write your story first–about 600 words is suitable



The Gift is a movie that was released in the year 2000, based on the events of a murder witnessed by a woman's fortune-telling. It's a thriller of which anyone could be the killer, they all have motives. In this rewrite that I am going to produce an animal-theme story that doesn't have death, but a kidnapping. This is my personal version of the film, without the vulgarity and nudity that may have gotten you stricken with horniness.



the Gift - the animal version

There once was an elephant named Annie,
who had quite a large fanny.
With ears so large
that she was in charge
of the village's safety brigade.

Annie had the largest ears of all the animals in the entire village. She could hear from here and there and everywhere else. Almost all of the animals liked Annie, except for Donnie the mole.

Donnie was stepped on while digging into the ground. He also had a wife named Valerie the mole, who was also a friend of Annie's. Valerie did not like what Donnie had to say about Annie."That elephant is up to no good!" as he would cry, "Her ears are so large that I can't get some privacy." As he would get angry, Valerie would just go out to visit Annie. What Annie would hear were the many voices and sounds that flowed throughout the village, stories, jokes and even secrets. She would tell the jokes to make people smile and laugh, but the secrets she heard were kept secret from others.

Annie had three elephant sons, Miller, Mike and Ben. They all liked to cause trouble and get into fights, until their mother has to put them in time-outs. One day, Annie had to see the school principal, for one of the boys started a food fight.

She said to the principal "Mr. Collins, I heard that you wanted to see me." Mr. Collins started at for a moment and then burst out with a laugh. After seconds of thinking of why he was laughing, he fell out of his chair as he dropped his hat. He finally stopped laughing and got back in his chair, he licked his whiskers and groomed his hair.

Mr. Collins then told Annie what Ben had done. She told him that he's upset because he lost his pet frog. While these two were talking, Ms. King walked into the room. Mr. Collins got up and walked over to Ms. King and asked "Hello Jessica, can introduce you to Annie?" Ms. King waved to Annie as she stepped out to get Ben.

That night, as Annie's three boys were sleeping, she walked to their beds, she said "goodnight" and gave them each a kiss on the head. After she went to bed, she awoke at 1 o' clock after having a bad dream. She thought she heard a scream from outside, but she laid in her bed and then didn't sleep a wink. In the morning as she woke up her three boys, she heard the phone ring as she stumbled past the toys.

Annie picked up the phone and said "Hello", there was a long silence and then she heard a voice. "Who is this?" Annie asked, "Annie, I am Mr. Johnson. I'm calling to tell you the missing of a Ms. Jessica King." Annie was shocked, "Did you say, Jessica King?" she asked quietly. Mr. Johnson answered "Indeed I did, ma'am. I heard that your ears can help us out in our search to find Ms. King." About half an hour later, Mr. Johnson came to Annie's home. He made a light knock on the door, nobody had heard it, so Mr. Johnson had to knock louder so that someone could hear that somebody is outside.

After a couple minutes of waiting, Annie finally noticed that someone was waiting outside, so she answered the door. She had looked around, but nobody was in sight. She heard a voice, but couldnt see anybody, "Down here" said Mr. Johnson. He was a rather short skunk, with a shiny gold badge and a small slingshot.

"May I come in, Annie?" Mr. Johnson asked. Annie said "It's kind of early for you to be on duty, isn't it?", Mr. Johnson replied "There never is the time to rest for the town sheriff." Several hours later, the search for Jessica King had gone throughout the entire town and throughout the forest. The search had gone on for about five days and six nights, without any luck.

At 10 o' clock the very next day, the search got to Donnie and Valerie's home and Donnie was not happy to hear about this. Donnie argued with Mr. Johnson that he can't search his home. Mr. Johnson said "As sheriff and head of the search team, I have full rights to search around your home for clues to Jessica King's whereabouts."

In the pond out front the water started to bubble, they all gathered around and stared. "Do you think she's in there?" Annie asked, Mr. Johnson said "I'm not sure, but we need to check if we haven't found her yet." All of a sudden, the bubbling had stopped, they all looked at each other. A small fish popped out from the water and the search team sighed.

Annie heard a sound from behind her and she called out "I think I know where Jessica is." She pointed her trunk towards an old tree and then they heard a scratching sound. The animals scratched and ripped away at the tree bark until it broke open. A mountain of acorns and walnuts spilled out, and on top of that was Jessica King, who was blindfolded. Jessica's father ran over in shock and cried out for her and then he threw his arms around her to hug.

As Donnie came up, he noticed all of the nuts scattered across the ground. He noticed that they found Jessica and he saw that his tree was falling apart. "What is this?" He asked, Mr. Johnson walked over to Donnie and said "Donnie Barksdale, you are under arrest for the kidnapping of Jessica King."

When they got to the Sheriff's office, Mr. Johnson asked Donnie some questions. "Did you kidnap Jessica King?" Mr. Johnson asked, Donnie answered "No, someone set me up." "Who do you think would try to set you up?" Mr. Johnson asked as Donnie looked at Annie. He said "I think that Annie did it." Mr. Johnson was starting to get angry, he walked over to Donnie and said "Mr. Barksdale, we have evidence that Annie was at her house at the time of the kidnapping."

Valerie walked into the Sheriff's office and told Mr. Johnson where he was that night. He turned to Donnie and chuckled "Mr. Barksdale, your wife here just told me where you were that night. You weren't at home, but you were out with Ms. Jessica King." Everyone else in the room had gasped, but Donnie didn't react to it. Donnie then told Mr. Johnson that he wasn't the kidnapper. Mr. Johnson said "Donnie, you had something to do with Jessica at the same time that she was kidnapped. Now, what is it?" Annie looked at Mr. Collins, who was starting to sweat and she thought that he might be hiding something. Annie then stood up and interrupted Mr. Johnson, "Mr. Johnson, I believe that Mr. Collins has something to say."

Everyone turned to the nervous Mr. Collins and asked him to tell them what he might know. After this long pause, he finally spoke "I kidnapped Jessica." Everyone except Annie and Mr. Johnson gasped, "Why did you kidnap Ms. King, Wayne Collins?" asked Mr. Johnson. Mr. Collins said "I saw her and Donnie outside of the school at 12:30 at night. He was giving her nuts, acorns and walnuts, acorns and walnuts, ACORNS AND WALNUTS!" Annie told Mr. Collins to calm down and then he continued, "After waiting for Donnie to leave, I had snuck up on her, tied her up and pushed her into the back of my car. I drove to Donnie's house and placed her inside the old tree after filling it with acorns and walnuts." Mr. Johnson put hand cuffs on Mr. Collins and said "Wayne Collins, you are under arrest for the kidnapping of Jessica King."

Annie left the Sheriff's office and all of the other animals yelled out "Annie, you're a hero!" as they tried to lift her off of the ground. What these animals didn't know was that she was really heavy and they couldn't hold her up. They ended up dropped her and she landed on all of them as they got squashed to the ground.

the End

Journal #6

Write about a person or people you look up to or have learned from. These could be people who have become famous historically, celebreties or even people you know or are related to. You might admire their accomplishments, their personality traits or their values. How did you learn about this person? What makes him or her remarkable? How does knowing about this person impact who you are as an individual?

I am not the kind of person who looks up to other people, but I like to hear the background story of certain individuals in their writing or of an actor's background. For example: C.S. Lewis, the author of the Chronicles of Narnia, was a christian. Now in perception, the lion Aslan was Narnia's protector and was willing to sacrifice himself to save Edmund, but yet able to come back in even less time it took for Jesus Christ to rise from the dead. Now, after seeing that, it made me wonder what he was thinking while he wrote this, Jesus was dead for approximately 3 days, as Aslan was dead for one night. I mean, years ago I thought that he was actually trying to surpass Jesus in a way that leaves many with their jaws hanging open. Now in this time, I had the idea to create character based on this discovery who was just invincible and all-powerful in every way and form, even in the most unusual ways. This character came to be known as the Happy Lion, the one who rules over gods and yet he never truly dies, as physical contact with his corpse allows him to come back to life. For this little nugget of reality was sprouted into a whole new character, I have been quite amused after watching The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe.

Another person who I have interest in is Jim Carrey, the so called 'man of a thousand impressions'. I mean, if you have the mind to focus carefully, most of his work is the same thing, but it isn't all too bad to repeat yourself in each film. My favorite Jim Carrey film is Cable Guy, it's about a crazed stalker who goes about after his 'client' with the identity of Chip Douglas. You never get to find out his name throughout the movie and that's how it should be. I've once been told that Jim Carrey was bi-polar. Yeah, two faces are better than one in the sense that you got TWO TIMES THE FUN!!!!!!!

If you have ever heard of the 'Angry Video Game Nerd' (James Rolfe), he is a critic that reviews games and some movies, but if you you heard of him, you may know about the Irate Gamer.

The Irate Gamer (Chris Bores) is an imitator of AVGN, and reviews some of the same games in the process, he even stole some of his dialogue and used it in some of his reviews. Anyways, there's an old philosophy that remains men to this day, but this expression is used for the case of girlfriends, wives, etc. This expression I have in mind is "Never cross swords."I am not too fond of other people's work being taken credit for by other people, unless if they manage to mix it up as something new. The Irate Gamer ignores that and plays forward as the cheap imitation of AVGN, causing a lot of angry viewers, so why does he do it?
I've just come to the thinking that it's more of a popularity thing, just to sell his roundness on the internet. But what I have come to learn from Chris Bores was that you gotta do what he's not doing, being yourself, as a bigger and better person. It's kind of weird to find something good out of someone you don't like because it really lets you to get a hold of who you really are.

Journal #5

The concept of childhood as we understand it is a product of 19th Century Victorian ideals. Prior to that time, there was no general sense that there was any particular need to shelter children from the unpleasant side of life. Children were put to work as soon as they were able. Almost two hundred years later, we have a sense that children should be almost entirely sheltered until they reach sufficient age. In our society, full adulthood is often delayed until individuals are well into their twenties.What is your take? Do we overprotect our children? Feel free to reminisce about your own childhood and to speculate about the kind of parent you think you will be based on your convictions.

These are all interesting questions, the true answers lie in the parent's actions. This also applies to the parents' parents, and so on. Now, they may be trying to act the same or act differently from their parents, just like my old man pretty much. My dad says that we're almost exactly alike, but I can never seem to find that actual connection, I draw and he never does, except for rough blueprints. He believes that he knows everything about me, but really he doesn't (not in a bad way). What he did know was that I could handle stuff on my own, without any major problems. My mom is just another story, she knows almost nothing about me and seems to criticize every time I take a breath (okay, not exactly THAT much). If she sees me writing or drawing something, she asks about what it is, but then it just gets thrown off course. She acts almost like a critic on my everyday life and I'm not kidding...

Yes, I know a critic is not out to get you, but this woman just crams the biggest load of crap down your throat and expects you to swallow it, overprotective much?


Here's what I'm getting at, as a parent, you gotta balance being with you kids and allowing them to function on their own as well. I mean that if you're with you too much, they become dependent of you and if you spend too little time with them, then they're not going to listen to you. Don't hover over kids, it just takes away their sense of privacy and convenience, which makes them respect you just a little bit more. When parents ask themselves what wrong happened to their kids, they're the partial blame in the scenario.

I do admit that I am a pest to my parents, but why else would I be like that? The problem for myself is mainly my mom, my dad only pops in on occasion to bark at me for something that
I did wrong or what I'm being accused of.

Journal #4

“Free Writing”

For some people, free writing is more difficult than having a topic assigned. For this reason, I suggest keeping a list of ideas for a rainy day somewhere in your Writer’s Notebooks.

Keep in mind that any topic is fair game as long as you do your best to write about it reflectively. I’ll discuss the whole business of reflective writing below.

Describing an experience or writing factually about a topic is what I refer to as “surface level” writing. You can be interesting, accurate, funny and informative, but ultimately you are leaving some of your subject unexplored.

Reflective writing attempts to go beyond the obvious aspects of a topic. It is a way of looking at your subject from different angles and exploring alternate points of view. Good journal writing is a balance of “surface level” and reflective writing.

I've never been the smartest or the coolest kid, but the loner among all others. I have had many friends who came and went, but do they really remember me at all? Probably not. I mean, of course, I can remember people who I haven't seen since I was just a kid, but it seems that nobody can remember me. It's another one of those common traits about me, 'easily forgettable' because I just haven't been around anybody long enough for them to be aware of my own existence. Kind of sad, really, living some sort of empty life.
I have this one childhood memory, which some people may have experienced, but in a different situation. I was eight-years-old and I got lost..... in the woods. Yes, it was the St.John's hiking grounds and I got lost because I was a loser at the time, seriously, I hated life when I was eight. After roaming around for about six hours alone on the trails, I noticed that as it got colder, I became more afraid, more afraid of staying alone for the rest of my life. Just the thoughts that I was thinking that I would have nobody to be with as I got hungry, thirsty and needed to take a leak. Taking a leak was an easy thing, just piss somewhere along the path and there, the tank is empty. Getting food was another thing, unless if you wanted to be like Yogi Bear and steal some picnic baskets, only to get yelled at by the person whose basket you attempted to steal, stupid bear... go eat some bear food. That experience has left a certain little thought drift through my mind and that is "Wherever you are, you are always alone." That statement has never been false to me because nobody can get to know the real me, even if I've known them for years.

Journal #3

"The Irony of Education"Why is it that in North America we (as a society) seem to take education for granted? In other countries students will take any opportunity they can get to improve themselves. In our society, educators sometimes have to take extreme measures to perform their function.

Maybe it is that we can tend to underestimate the potential that we can receive from our education system. What we (the learners) have a problem with is the idea of where we can actually use the information that we are getting from it. We do not understand where to use it and surely do not know how to make it right, for some of the students out there. That's the problem right there, do students really care about the education? Not always, kids just try to breeze through with that one thought "Oh, who cares if I failed this class? I won't need this for anytime in the future." That's one of the weaknesses to the student's mind, If they can't get something in the first try, they just give up.

Another source of problem can rest within the teacher. Not all teachers are bad, but within a random flock of teachers, there can be a defective one. The 'defective' teacher does not really care what it is that the student does or doesn't do, why not? Maybe the teacher gave up on them or maybe they just really don't want kids to succeed. The defective teacher's side of the story is never told, but in general, would it really matter? Probably not, take this into consideration but don't judge teachers by the way they teach, they just go by different forms of approach. If you happen to have a bad teacher, switch to a similar class to a teacher who is willing to help you out.

One Act Radio Play - True Feelings of the Hero

Task: Write a 4 page (radio play) in which you use 2-3 characters to introduce some sort of a problem and work it through to some sort of a resolution.

Avoid using a narrator.


True Feelings of the Hero - One Act Radio Play by Kyle Lowe

[Alarm clock sounds as a groaning sound rises, then fades. It is 7 o' clock in the morning]

Drake:
Ugh, what the hell happened here? (Footsteps can be heard while rustling through beer cans on the floor) Alex! Alex!..... Alex! Where's my toothbrush? (pounds on door)

[Door opens and a young man, about 20 years of age enters, slightly dazed.]

Alex:
(Yawns) What is with all this racket?

Drake:
I know I left my toothbrush in your room?

Alex:
In my room... Now, why would your toothbrush be in here?

Drake:
Well, just between you and me, I just so happen to sleepwalk through people's bedrooms with my toothbrush in my mouth.

Alex:
(Scratches head) What are you trying to say?

Drake:
Take a look, see anything interesting?

Alex:
(Confused) Wait here.

(Closes door, then opens the door several seconds later)

(Screaming) What the hell is that?

Drake:
(Laughs) Ooh, let me see! (Floor creaks) I believe that is called a Creeper.

Alex:
(Still screaming) Why is there and old man sitting on my chair?!?!?

Drake:
Funny story actually. You see, this guy was following me around last night and I mean, (Chuckles) he was persistent. The point is, he promised that he wasn't a pervert. Can we keep him? (Excitedly) I always wanted a pet. I'll feed him and change him and I'll tell him goodnight stories and lets not forget, give him his medication.

Alex:
Normally, I try to ignore all of the shenanigans that you get yourself into, but I cannot take having an old man staring at me constantly while I'm trying to sleep at night!

Drake:
(Discouraged) So I can't keep him? What if I got another bed so you two can share a room?

Alex:
(Screaming) Get him out of here!

Drake:
Alright. (Starts walking away and then walks back over) On one condition!

Alex:
(Sighs) What is it?

Drake:
We're both reasonable men right? If I do what you want, you gotta do something for me.

Alex:
(Annoyed tone) Mhmmm... So what do you want?

Drake:
I want you sir, to find the one responsible for the theft of my toothbrush.

Alex:
(Pulls out a comb and combs his hair) What makes you so certain that somebody would walk in between the time that you were sleep walking and now to steal a toothbrush?

Drake:
Trust me, I know A LOT of people who are sinister to steal one man's toothbrush. It is an absolute threat.

Alex:
(Sarcastic) What kind of person steals toothbrushes?

Drake:
(Stomps on floor) Dentists, men in trench coats, men with poor oral hygiene and even...

(Taps on window)


Alex:
(Flustered) Drake, a window cannot move on its own.


Drake:
No, not that. Crossing guards.

[Enter a young woman, about 20 years of age. She is completely unaware of the conversation.]

Crossing guards are the greatest evil that the world has come to know!

Michelle:
Did I come at a bad time?

Drake:
(Loudly) Yes you did! (Slams desk)

Alex:
(Sighs) Okay, I've heard enough. Good luck getting your toothbrush.

[He exits. Door closes.]

Drake:
(Whispering) Now, I am following a suspect who may have the information to the whereabouts of my toothbrush. Please be warned, she may be armed and dangerous.

Michelle:
You know I can hear you, right?

Drake:
Oh, your good... (Snaps fingers) So, you think that you're innocent. Well, let's see how innocent you really are. (Clicks pen) Where were you on the day of today?

Michelle:
(Laughs) All of this for a toothbrush? You really freak out over the simplest things.

Drake:
(Yelling) I do not!

Michelle:
You want your toothbrush? Just look in the bathroom.

Drake:
(Loud footsteps) Finally! (Hits the wall)

Michelle:
After I'm done with it... (Laughs)

[Door closes and she exits. Then the shower is turned on.]

(Drake's footsteps can be heard and the sound of couch springs as he sits down)

Drake:
(Calmly) Hello out there, I'm Drake. I'm sorry you had to hear that, but that is something called life. You may be wondering what I did last night and that would be (awkward pause) that would be life as well, apart from the old man who I brought home. That old man, he represents (pause) okay, there's nothing too special about him, he is just a complete stranger I let into my house. Now, you may be asking yourself, "What the hell was he thinking?" There's a little old saying that I go by and that is 'Open your heart to those around you, treat them with care' and 'When your toothbrush goes missing, hunt for it.'

[Door opens and Alex enters]

Alex:
You're still looking for that thing?

Drake:
(Starts to cry) ...Yeah.

Alex:
Need my help?

Drake:
(Excited and yelling) Do I ever!

Alex:
You're sitting on it.

Drake:
What? What am I sitting on?

Alex:
(Smacks) You're sitting on your toothbrush!

Drake:
Oh. (Chuckles) My bad.

Alex:
Got that right.

[He exits]

Drake:
Oh Brushy, I missed you! I don't ever want to lose you again. (Footsteps, followed by the opening of a door) I'm Drake, I'm an idiot, so try to teach me slowly.

[Door closes and Drake exits]

the End

Journal #2

"The Pen is Mightier than the Sword"

Writers have an extraordinary potential to change people's minds and to create revolutions. Reflect upon some of the radical changes that have been wrought by such texts as The Declaration of Independence, Uncle Tom's Cabin, and The Communist Manifesto. What issues or topics are you interested in exploring in your writing? What changes do you feel are worth making?

I believe that words, if used correctly and effectively, can be used to express one's feelings and beliefs. Within a story or text, the writer focuses on description, creating colour in what they write, making it easier to visualize what the author wants the reader to get out of it. Without this key element to writing, the visualization becomes more vague and harder to see what exactly that the reader is trying to tell us.

Now, what I'm interested in the methods that writers tend to use in their writing style, seeing where they get their ideas from. There is a question that might be asked, "Did you receive this idea from someplace or from a personal experience?" The mind behind the writer is something vast, possibly complex in general and a useful tool to the terms of which it is manipulated. I believe that from a story based on personal experiences, we can use it as a backbone or a spine to what we are willing to create, using it as a base which we can rearrange and change it up for a better written format. That is something i want to take a deeper look into, along with trying out some of the ideas on given themes in class.