Some assignments...

Assignments for the last week of class!

1. Make a list of people you admire. They can be dead or alive. They can be people you know personally, or people that you have only heard about. Try to think of at least 10 people. Next, write a few (3-5+) describing words about each of them.

For example:

Keri Mac- lawyer, ivy league, billable hours, dancer, committed.

My grampa- brilliant, hardworking, addicted, loving, my best friend, my hero.

Billy Mills- defied odds, trained hard, dealt with a lot of bullshit, the underdog, reservation.

Sarah J.-doesn’t have crushes, dancer, doesn’t drink, doesn’t need to, thinks I’m a kid, runs.

Susy H. amazing teacher, mentor, family, runner, confidant.

Susie O. amazing teacher, social justice, love, kids, democratic learning, circle, lesbian.

Brian O. amazing coach, cancer, will beat cancer, cute son, loving wife, very positive man.

My mom.single mother, teacher, middle class values, white, independent.

Forrest T. defied the odds, Stanford, runner, hard working, brilliant, future attorney.

Brie B. single mom, 2 kids, dates guys I don’t like, tattoos, amazing server, takes care of others, should be taken care of.

2. Take your list of people, chose one, and write a story. If you want, your story can be about the person. Otherwise, you can just use words/ideas you came up with (associated with their name) and create your own character, or put two characters together.

3. Where do you want to be in 10 years? How can you get there? Make a list. Once your list is complete, turn it into a short story. What are the obstacles? Who are the characters involved?

4. Think of an event that occurred, that you wish you could take back. What would you change? Rewrite the ending. If you keep a journal, it might help to look back at previous entries, if you are having trouble remembering a time you wish was different.

5. Write a story about a vegetable garden. Give the vegetables different (social/personal) characteristics. For example, the Serrano pepper could be a tall skinny woman with a hot temper. Write a story about their growth together, and what kinds of problems (and miracles) happen when a group of mixed vegetables comes up together.

6. Take the lyrics from a verse of a song that you like, or that has a good story. Circle the words that stick out the most, or that you are drawn to. Then, begin to write a story using these words/ideas. You can stick with the basic message of the verse (but consider adding characters or developing them more), or you can simply use the words to rewrite your own story.

What if (Pg. 90-129).

Nikki, the bisexual girl “has it bad” for a straight girl.

1. Nikki bites her tongue, and continues to just “hang out” with her crush.
2. Nikki tells the straight girl her feelings, and the girl is totally freaked out.
3. Nikki decides to date one of the straight girls “guy friends”.
4. Nikki flirts with men (and women) around the straight girl, and sees how she reacts.
5. Nikki quits seeing the straight girl, because it’s just too hard to be around her and not profess her admiration.
6. Nikki tells the straight girl how she’s feeling, the straight girl blushes, and they make hot love all afternoon.

#37 Sunday: Discovering emotional triggers.

Sunday “funday” is never as fun as it sounds. I wake up, usually hungover, and the sun is already shining. C’mon, I think to myself…did I really just waste half the day? Homework is piled high on my coffee table, my kitchen counter, my bathroom sink. My “to do” list is buried somewhere in the mess. The Vikings game has already started, so I grab my old jersey and head to the pub. It’s good to see the regulars on Sunday, even though I see them most other days as well. After the game, I know I need to start my work, but my buzz has kicked in, as well as the free food coma. I’d prefer to take a nap, if you’d really like to know. 8pm on Sunday, and I awake from my nap. Crap! I think to myself, did I really just sleep away the second half of my day? I cozy up in front of my space heater, and slowly begin to sort through the endless piles of assignments. I crack a beer, and think to myself… why have I become so dedicated to this routine?

#39 Accounting: How did we get here?

She walks with her headphones on, probably coming from class. My guess is a family social science class. That department seems to have lots of young blonde women with iPods in it. Her class let out a few minutes early, which is great, because now she can strut around campus. She always looks forward to her one woman parade.

He’s short, smoking a cigarette. He was in a band once, playing rhythm guitar. He’s on his way to his girlfriends house, she who is also short. They make a cute couple, doing things like throwing Frisbees and drinking iced teas in the spring.

Sheila C just walked by. She looks great, but I didn’t get to say hello, because she was on the phone. She’s been doing big things lately, as has been able to change her look 100% since high school. She was always cute, I mean, but this time, she’s got a swagger. She looks strong and determined. I should have said hello.

The girl in the hoodie wears her weight well. She’s got a booty, but her clothes fit, and she’s comfortable. She’s on her way to work. She works retail, and is really good at it. She sold the most of all her coworkers last month, but didn’t get any reward for it. Her boss is an asshole, you know the type.

He takes off his shirt, what kind of guy does that in the middle of campus? This guy, apparently. He’s looking around, taking inventory of all the girls around him. He’s not a pervert, yet, although some of his girlfriends wonder what his intentions are. He played lacrosse in high school, and was voted prom king. His mom died last year, and she was his best friend.

What if (parts 4-6)

An early memory: Part 1

I named him Charlie. That was the biggest mistake. I shouldn’t have given him any name. But how could I not? He was the biggest perch I’d ever caught. I knew we were going to eat fish for dinner that night; we always did, after grampa and I came back from fishing. Come to think of it, we had fish for all our meals when we were at the cabin. When it was time to clean the fish, grampa showed me how to whack them over the head with the big end of the knife. I thought this was mean, but soon didn’t feel too bad about it. When I realized that Charlie would receive this same treatment, I began to cry. “Please grampa, we can’t”, I begged. I cried as we cleaned the fish, and I cried as we fried the fish. I didn’t know which piece was Charlie, but I cried as I ate each peace that night for dinner.

An early memory: Part 2

I made the mistake of naming my biggest catch of the day, Charlie. Once he had a name, he became my friend. Once he became my friend, I got attached. I shouldn’t have given him a name. Grampa always made me help clean our catch, otherwise he would be out there for hours. I liked that he trusted me with a knife (and our dinner). He taught me well, and I will hold that memory and lesson throughout my life. After I named Charlie, we cooked him. I cried at the thought of losing my friend, and then cried harder at the thought of eating my friend. Where was my heart? I had tried to do the right thing, by naming and valuing my catch, but by then, I had become attached. Hitting Charlie over the head with the wooden handle of the knife was gruesome, thoughtless, and barbaric really. What was my grampa thinking, allowing me to give a name to the seemingly giant perch I had caught? He was teaching me the circle and impermanency of life. He was teaching me to only catch (and keep) what I will use. He was teaching me responsible consumerism. He was teaching me (the hard way) to not name my fish Charlie. Lesson learned.

Speech flavor, or sounding real:

“A-HEM”, she loudly exhaled, trying to get our attention. She wrote her name on the board, as she said extra loud and extra slow to the class, “I am Mrs. Ready, your substitute teacher for the day”. I rolled my eyes and thought; you’ve got to me fucking kidding me.

“Can I help you”, she asked, eyeing me suspiciously. “No, just browsing”, I said. She followed me throughout the store. I just continued to browse.

“Hey man, lemme get some Marlboro lights”, barked the woman barely old enough to inhale such toxins. “ID please, miss”, he stuttered in broken English. “Whatchu mean, ID? I’ve been in here before, bought smokes from some other one of your people”. “I’ve sold cigarettes to mean girls like you before”, he replied, “ID please”.

“Getcha ass down here, its time for dinner”. Her mother was tired of this daily fight to have a family dinner. By the time everyone gathered at the table, the food was cold, and mothers temper was hot.

Telling Talk: When to summarize dialogue.

Grades came home, and her mom was pissed. For nearly an hour, Anne listened as her mom went on and on, unleashing heaps of anger and criticism that filled their small house. Why aren’t you doing your work, her mom asked? Anne knew it wasn’t that simple. Anne did the work, and tried to explain that she did the work, but her mom wouldn’t let her get one word in. Anne slouched against the wall, as her mother continued on about embarrassment to the family, and failure to society. She doesn’t get it, Anne thought silently. Not long into her mothers monologue, words began to sail through Anne’s conscious, untouched, often as they did in her classes. She was failing her classes, just as her classes were failing her.

Three by Three:

Anne hates school.

Mom hates Anne.

Anne quits school.

Sarah is bored.

Sarah leaves town.

Sarah finds love.

Dad is gone.

Mom is mad.

Kid is disconnected.

The Skeleton:

He had always dreamed of running sub 4. Coaches had come and gone, like kids selling candy door to door. He wasn’t sure where to turn. One day after a long run, Kent found himself running strides at the park near his house. A group of young men were playing soccer. They could run forever, he thought. He ran a few laps around the edge of the soccer field, and began to stretch. One of the players jogged up to him. “We need a midfielder”, he said. Kent, who was feeling disheartened, decided to join the game. He quickly introduced himself to his new team, and was greeted with head nods and fist bumps. Suddenly he realized, it wasn’t the coach or the training he was lacking, it was the camaraderie of a team that he needed. He played midfield that day, and continued to meet up with the group every weekend after his long run. He wasn’t much of a soccer player, but he was a heck of a teammate.