I've always been an imaginative person. Perhaps my dreams have been a little fanciful. I remember in 2004 when I first began college I started off in the James Madison program. It was probably due to all the praise my teachers and mother gave me, but I honestly believed I would be some hot-shot lawyer, powerful politician, and one day first female President of the United States. But dreams and people change....
So how do I go from wanting to be the first female President to wanting to write a book? Well....maybe that isn't so strange considering Bill Clinton has his own book. Although, if I were President, I wouldn't have an issue with male or female interns for that matter lol. This whole writing passion has made me question my education and career paths. My mother of course has her eyes set on me becoming that hot shot lawyer. I think it's because she wants me to buy her a sports car and huge house (just kidding). All of my friends on the other hand that know me best (sorry Mom)... think this whole pre-law major doesn't fit me. Sure, I could be a great lawyer, but I wonder- would it make me happy? And, if you have to ask yourself that, doesn't that already tell you something?
My friends think I should be a writer. Some will probably bludgeon me until I realize that should be my career. With a pre-law degree I wonder, what the hell can I honestly do with that? So I was thinking about going to get my MFA in Creative Writing. Or.... I could still go to law school, do what I had originally planned- go into entertainment and contract law AND.....
still write a book!
Because- ANYONE CAN WRITE A BOOK!
So from now on I am going to write about my experiences/frustrations of trying to write one and actually learning how to. It's different writing for yourself or writing a paper for class, but to actually have something published? Now that's a scary thought. We'll see what happens....
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Monday, October 13, 2008
Simple Assignment
I haven't posted in awhile so here is a simple paper I wrote for my ISS that got a 4.0...how I don't know because I wrote it in 20 minutes lol....enjoy.
I can remember peering over my father’s shoulder as he shuffled through papers and books on the table, perplexed at what he was so eager to find. From an early age, I had learned to love reading, but I loved colorful pictures and shiny covers, not the dusty, colorless books my father had sitting in front of him. What possibly could be so interesting about a book with no pictures? Unbeknownst to me at the time, those books he treasured so dearly, would later teach me more about myself than I thought I’d ever know.
Books remained part of bonding time with my father. It’s one of the only areas in which we were able to relate. Every other weekend for quite a few months we would find ourselves in a quiet little corner of the library researching with the same books my father treasured so dearly. They included all the information one could want to know about the name Slama or Canterbury, which were his parents’ surnames. My father had been researching his ancestry for twenty years by the time I started helping him when I was ten. When I first found out what he was doing I thought it was boring, but the more I started investigating on my own, the more intrigued I became. I felt like my very own detective. It started to make me wonder, who am I and where did I really come from?
Those questions slowly were answered over the coming years. I didn’t actively investigate my ancestry as much as I should have at first, but with my paternal grandfather’s death, it influenced my decision to start again. He was one-hundred percent Czechoslovakian. His ethnicity was something he was very proud of. My great grandfather immigrated to America by himself in the early 1900s looking for work. He was hoping to earn enough money to send to his wife and children in Czechoslovakia. First he sent for his wife, but by the time they had earned enough money to send for their children, they were adults and didn’t want to leave their home. In the end, my great grandparents had their Czechoslovakian children, but started their “American” family as well.
My grandfather was fluent in Czech, as that was the language his parents spoke. However, once he began school, he was taught how to read and write in English. This meant that later on in his life, he taught himself how to read and write in Czech, as that was something he could not be taught in school. He kept a cabinet of Czech books that he often read and studied. On weekends I would often catch him with his beloved silver stereo dancing to one of his favorite Czech polkas. If he caught me looking, he’d swing me around, “care to dance?”
My paternal grandmother‘s family was entirely of English descent, traced back to 1480 in England. Her family came to America in the mid to late 1600s to settle in Virginia. They fought in the French and Indian War as well as the Revolutionary. My grandmother, six-generations past, was said to be a notable Revolutionary war figure and the inspiration behind th creation of the “Daughters of the American Revolution.”
In 1776 the Los Angeles Time’s headline was “Proud, Fearless Woman Speaks Mind.” Hannah White ( my 6th great-grandmother) had went into a meeting which she was not allowed into. The men inside were discussing giving up the war and returning to the British side by signing the Proclamation of Loyalty to Britain. She told the men that God was on their side and they shouldn’t give up just because they were experiencing a weak moment. “And now, because for a time the day is going against us, you would give up and sneak back to kiss the feet that have trampled upon us. You call yourselves men? Oh shame upon you, cowards.” Apparently she had also threatened to leave her husband Issac if they signed the Proclamation, so the group reconsidered and refused to take the British offer. Mary Lockwood Smith who helped found the Daughters of the American Revolution celebrated Hannah’s story, and a monument was erected in 1938 which displays her name.
This story, I was able to find through my months of online and library research. In discovering the other sides of my family, I asked questions to my grandfather and grandmother on my mom’s side growing up. My grandpa actually has a couple books on his family, which I have never gotten around to actually reading. His grandfather immigrated from Germany. Most of his family considered themselves the Pennsylvania Dutch. This simply meant they were German descendants of those that immigrated to the area before the 1800s. He did tell me that on his mother’s side of the family there was some Irish. His mother’s grandfather immigrated from Ireland, bringing along the last name Callahan. During the Great Famine in Ireland his parents had died, so his uncle had sent for him to come to America.
Overall my ethnic make-up includes: Czech, English, German, Irish, Scottish and Swiss. I plan to do more family research on my mother’s side to discover the stories that have been left untold. I do know some of my great grandparents were English and Swiss, but there are not many family members left to acquire information from.
Learning the story of Hannah White and how early most of my family immigrated has proven that we have a strong tie to America. We were at once White ethnics who came to America hoping for more opportunities, but have assimilated into the larger society. No longer do I speak the languages my great grandparents immigrated with, cook their typical foods, or enjoy their cultural traditions. Some of my family would have been considered White, for instance my paternal grandmother’s ancestors, but as for my Irish side, we would not have been looked so favorably upon. In today’s society, it is much easier to be classified as my race, which is Caucasian, than to explain what my ethnicity is. As an individual with a diverse background as far as where I grew up, cultures I surrounded myself with, and the ideals I posses, I do not try to classify myself as a race, except for the fact that I am human. I do not define myself by the color of my skin, but by my character within.
I can remember peering over my father’s shoulder as he shuffled through papers and books on the table, perplexed at what he was so eager to find. From an early age, I had learned to love reading, but I loved colorful pictures and shiny covers, not the dusty, colorless books my father had sitting in front of him. What possibly could be so interesting about a book with no pictures? Unbeknownst to me at the time, those books he treasured so dearly, would later teach me more about myself than I thought I’d ever know.
Books remained part of bonding time with my father. It’s one of the only areas in which we were able to relate. Every other weekend for quite a few months we would find ourselves in a quiet little corner of the library researching with the same books my father treasured so dearly. They included all the information one could want to know about the name Slama or Canterbury, which were his parents’ surnames. My father had been researching his ancestry for twenty years by the time I started helping him when I was ten. When I first found out what he was doing I thought it was boring, but the more I started investigating on my own, the more intrigued I became. I felt like my very own detective. It started to make me wonder, who am I and where did I really come from?
Those questions slowly were answered over the coming years. I didn’t actively investigate my ancestry as much as I should have at first, but with my paternal grandfather’s death, it influenced my decision to start again. He was one-hundred percent Czechoslovakian. His ethnicity was something he was very proud of. My great grandfather immigrated to America by himself in the early 1900s looking for work. He was hoping to earn enough money to send to his wife and children in Czechoslovakia. First he sent for his wife, but by the time they had earned enough money to send for their children, they were adults and didn’t want to leave their home. In the end, my great grandparents had their Czechoslovakian children, but started their “American” family as well.
My grandfather was fluent in Czech, as that was the language his parents spoke. However, once he began school, he was taught how to read and write in English. This meant that later on in his life, he taught himself how to read and write in Czech, as that was something he could not be taught in school. He kept a cabinet of Czech books that he often read and studied. On weekends I would often catch him with his beloved silver stereo dancing to one of his favorite Czech polkas. If he caught me looking, he’d swing me around, “care to dance?”
My paternal grandmother‘s family was entirely of English descent, traced back to 1480 in England. Her family came to America in the mid to late 1600s to settle in Virginia. They fought in the French and Indian War as well as the Revolutionary. My grandmother, six-generations past, was said to be a notable Revolutionary war figure and the inspiration behind th creation of the “Daughters of the American Revolution.”
In 1776 the Los Angeles Time’s headline was “Proud, Fearless Woman Speaks Mind.” Hannah White ( my 6th great-grandmother) had went into a meeting which she was not allowed into. The men inside were discussing giving up the war and returning to the British side by signing the Proclamation of Loyalty to Britain. She told the men that God was on their side and they shouldn’t give up just because they were experiencing a weak moment. “And now, because for a time the day is going against us, you would give up and sneak back to kiss the feet that have trampled upon us. You call yourselves men? Oh shame upon you, cowards.” Apparently she had also threatened to leave her husband Issac if they signed the Proclamation, so the group reconsidered and refused to take the British offer. Mary Lockwood Smith who helped found the Daughters of the American Revolution celebrated Hannah’s story, and a monument was erected in 1938 which displays her name.
This story, I was able to find through my months of online and library research. In discovering the other sides of my family, I asked questions to my grandfather and grandmother on my mom’s side growing up. My grandpa actually has a couple books on his family, which I have never gotten around to actually reading. His grandfather immigrated from Germany. Most of his family considered themselves the Pennsylvania Dutch. This simply meant they were German descendants of those that immigrated to the area before the 1800s. He did tell me that on his mother’s side of the family there was some Irish. His mother’s grandfather immigrated from Ireland, bringing along the last name Callahan. During the Great Famine in Ireland his parents had died, so his uncle had sent for him to come to America.
Overall my ethnic make-up includes: Czech, English, German, Irish, Scottish and Swiss. I plan to do more family research on my mother’s side to discover the stories that have been left untold. I do know some of my great grandparents were English and Swiss, but there are not many family members left to acquire information from.
Learning the story of Hannah White and how early most of my family immigrated has proven that we have a strong tie to America. We were at once White ethnics who came to America hoping for more opportunities, but have assimilated into the larger society. No longer do I speak the languages my great grandparents immigrated with, cook their typical foods, or enjoy their cultural traditions. Some of my family would have been considered White, for instance my paternal grandmother’s ancestors, but as for my Irish side, we would not have been looked so favorably upon. In today’s society, it is much easier to be classified as my race, which is Caucasian, than to explain what my ethnicity is. As an individual with a diverse background as far as where I grew up, cultures I surrounded myself with, and the ideals I posses, I do not try to classify myself as a race, except for the fact that I am human. I do not define myself by the color of my skin, but by my character within.
Monday, September 29, 2008
And so it begins...a new chapter
My brother has decided to move to Australia. I guess it literally only took 2 days for his visa to be approved, so I found out last month he is leaving October 4th. We spent Saturday having some brother-sister "bonding" time, something we never get a chance to do. I expected us to talk more but we just goofed off and had a good time. First we went horse back riding, which I have to say was amazing. I haven't been in a long time and I loved it. $20 for an hour trail ride was well worth it. Next we went to the batting cages and played some arcade games. I know guys are competitive but my brother tops most guys I know. We played the free throw hoop game. I won by 16 points and as we were walking away, him muttering to himself, he walked back to insert more quarters into the machine. When it became my turn he tried to mess up my focus (lucky for him it worked) by saying things like "White girls can't ball.... white girls can't jump." I lost by 2 points, as the last ball dropped into the net as the buzzer sounded. All in all it was a good day. We spend dinner in Flint at my Dad's...that was interesting. More family conversation about why my brother is going and such. He is going for a girl, go figure. But like my brother said he doesn't want to look back on this and wonder "what if"... and regret not taking this chance.
So it had me thinking of all the LITTLE chances I don't take for one reason or another. Then later on I wonder to myself...what if I had done it? I know it might seem trivial but there have been a lot of events I've wanted to go to, a lot of shows I've wanted to see but never went or saw them. Then last night I was on Facebook and saw an invite for a poetry event on campus. Normally I find one excuse or another not to attend. Either it doesn't fit my schedule or I already have plans. But I have always said I have wanted to not necessarily compete, but get up and recite one of my poems at an event. So I think it's about time I stop questioning my writing abilities and do it. All I have to do is contact one of the members that is hosting the event, and one just so happens to be in one of my classes tomorrow. Looks like this might be the start of something....
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Reflections
“Any man can be a father, but it takes a REAL man to be a dad.”
I begin with this quote only because of a phone conversation I had with my brother last night about our father, and it reminded me so much of the trials and tribulations in my 22 years of life- many due to him.
I recall freshman year of college when I wrote the autobiography of my life and think of all the instances that I left out of that paper. Many pages left unwritten, many stories left untold. Instead the images and the words remain ingrained within my mind. These are the realities of my youth that I have tried endlessly to wash away, but the harder I scrub, the more they resurface. There is so much harshness to my own realities that I wonder if they were even real. I sit back and think to myself, did that really happen?
There was a quote I referenced in a previous blog stating that I am a woman of strength, not a strong woman. For a strong woman has faith that she is strong enough for the journey, but a woman of strength has faith that it is in the journey that she will become strong. The journey has made me strong, and continues to do so. Why? I continue to evolve. I learn new lessons about life and about myself. Characteristics I never knew I had begin to form, or ones that already existed flourish. Over the years I have developed a tougher skin. Although some may still see me as being soft spoken and a pushover- they haven’t seen me in action. But I will say, I choose my battles wisely. I am not one that opens my mouth every time I get mad, that wouldn’t be smart now would it?
I think this journey I have been and am on is going to help me succeed in life far better than I ever imagined possible. Honestly, I think I am at a better advantage than most. It’s ironic that for most of my life I have been less privileged and more disadvantaged but now I feel like I have an upper hand. Sure, I am behind some of my counterparts when it comes to having my degree on time, however, I bet I have a better job than those that already have theirs. Talk about better resume! That’s why working and going to school is an advantage (as long as you stay on top of your grades).
Anyway... I’ve been thinking lately of writing those stories that have been left untold. Mainly I feel as if it will put my mind at ease. Perhaps this can be a new writing project for me. Looking at me you may not know it, but I’ve had an interesting 22 years of life...there is more to me than what meets the eye. Believe me.
I begin with this quote only because of a phone conversation I had with my brother last night about our father, and it reminded me so much of the trials and tribulations in my 22 years of life- many due to him.
I recall freshman year of college when I wrote the autobiography of my life and think of all the instances that I left out of that paper. Many pages left unwritten, many stories left untold. Instead the images and the words remain ingrained within my mind. These are the realities of my youth that I have tried endlessly to wash away, but the harder I scrub, the more they resurface. There is so much harshness to my own realities that I wonder if they were even real. I sit back and think to myself, did that really happen?
There was a quote I referenced in a previous blog stating that I am a woman of strength, not a strong woman. For a strong woman has faith that she is strong enough for the journey, but a woman of strength has faith that it is in the journey that she will become strong. The journey has made me strong, and continues to do so. Why? I continue to evolve. I learn new lessons about life and about myself. Characteristics I never knew I had begin to form, or ones that already existed flourish. Over the years I have developed a tougher skin. Although some may still see me as being soft spoken and a pushover- they haven’t seen me in action. But I will say, I choose my battles wisely. I am not one that opens my mouth every time I get mad, that wouldn’t be smart now would it?
I think this journey I have been and am on is going to help me succeed in life far better than I ever imagined possible. Honestly, I think I am at a better advantage than most. It’s ironic that for most of my life I have been less privileged and more disadvantaged but now I feel like I have an upper hand. Sure, I am behind some of my counterparts when it comes to having my degree on time, however, I bet I have a better job than those that already have theirs. Talk about better resume! That’s why working and going to school is an advantage (as long as you stay on top of your grades).
Anyway... I’ve been thinking lately of writing those stories that have been left untold. Mainly I feel as if it will put my mind at ease. Perhaps this can be a new writing project for me. Looking at me you may not know it, but I’ve had an interesting 22 years of life...there is more to me than what meets the eye. Believe me.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Jermil had asked what people did this weekend. So these are some of the many pictures I will be scrapbooking soon. I sent most of them to Walmart. Other than that I updated my iPod. Finally I have an abundance of music to listen to. I did watch a movie. I guess that somewhat counts as TV, but it's been a Netflix one that has been sitting on my stand for over a week, so I had to. Sorry.
Oh and I took an exam on a football Saturday. Worst idea ever! $10 for parking was ridiculous. This guy literally ran in front of my car and started pounding on it when I tried to park in the ramp near the computer center (where I always park when I go to the class at night). Needless to say he almost got ran over. But I didn't feel like getting arrested, so I found somewhere else to park. Guess football really does come before academics on the weekends. I would have taken the bus but I had to drive because I had errands to run before the exam. Like getting 20 tubes of blood drawn! Talk about a fulfilling weekend!
Oh and I took an exam on a football Saturday. Worst idea ever! $10 for parking was ridiculous. This guy literally ran in front of my car and started pounding on it when I tried to park in the ramp near the computer center (where I always park when I go to the class at night). Needless to say he almost got ran over. But I didn't feel like getting arrested, so I found somewhere else to park. Guess football really does come before academics on the weekends. I would have taken the bus but I had to drive because I had errands to run before the exam. Like getting 20 tubes of blood drawn! Talk about a fulfilling weekend!
Maybe I'm a Fool
Normally I don't like to divulge personal details of my love life, well I guess I used to, but I haven’t in a long time. The reason for this came about when I realized someone was stalking one of previous blogs and used a lot of that personal information against me in various ways.
Well nevertheless, here goes so this has been on my mind for a couple weeks now. I keep trying to tell myself that it doesn’t bother me, but the more I tell myself that, the more I know it does. Now, I know that in my past relationships I have cared about the men I have dated, and I can admit I have loved only two. Honestly, I can’t say or explain the level of love of each but I know that it existed. The one I am going to talk about is the one that has been bothering me lately. We dated on and off for several years. In-between break-ups, which could last anywhere from a few days up to a year, we often dated other people. I finally decided to officially call it quits- meaning no more on and off. This was around the end of June.
I just found out a couple weeks ago he has this girl going to visit him in 3 days. Now, we are broken up so I can’t be upset. But the problem I have is it’s a girl that always caused conflict when we were together. It was one of those girls that “But she’s just a friend,” and tried to be my friend too, but really wanted the “scoop” on him. I always knew I didn’t like her. I voiced my opinion. I read blogs about how she was “in love” with him, but he always dismissed my concerns. So now she is going to see him, and she is leaving him all these “I love you baby” comments on his Myspace. Now is it just me, or is that juvenile? I don’t see the point, I myself am 22. If I care about someone I would rather just tell them I love them than plaster their wall with ridiculous pictures. Maybe that was cute in junior high.
But I am still bothered by the fact if we finally called it quits at the end of June, how could he already have someone so head over heels for him? Or am I right in believing she was basically there from the start? I mean to be honest, we looked at rings 3 times. Doesn’t mean I had one on my finger yet, but doesn’t that count for something? Maybe I am just expecting him to be more upset over losing me. But I did have to laugh when his default picture had him wearing the Michigan State shirt I bought him, and her comment was less than thrilled...I found it highly entertaining.
Well nevertheless, here goes so this has been on my mind for a couple weeks now. I keep trying to tell myself that it doesn’t bother me, but the more I tell myself that, the more I know it does. Now, I know that in my past relationships I have cared about the men I have dated, and I can admit I have loved only two. Honestly, I can’t say or explain the level of love of each but I know that it existed. The one I am going to talk about is the one that has been bothering me lately. We dated on and off for several years. In-between break-ups, which could last anywhere from a few days up to a year, we often dated other people. I finally decided to officially call it quits- meaning no more on and off. This was around the end of June.
I just found out a couple weeks ago he has this girl going to visit him in 3 days. Now, we are broken up so I can’t be upset. But the problem I have is it’s a girl that always caused conflict when we were together. It was one of those girls that “But she’s just a friend,” and tried to be my friend too, but really wanted the “scoop” on him. I always knew I didn’t like her. I voiced my opinion. I read blogs about how she was “in love” with him, but he always dismissed my concerns. So now she is going to see him, and she is leaving him all these “I love you baby” comments on his Myspace. Now is it just me, or is that juvenile? I don’t see the point, I myself am 22. If I care about someone I would rather just tell them I love them than plaster their wall with ridiculous pictures. Maybe that was cute in junior high.
But I am still bothered by the fact if we finally called it quits at the end of June, how could he already have someone so head over heels for him? Or am I right in believing she was basically there from the start? I mean to be honest, we looked at rings 3 times. Doesn’t mean I had one on my finger yet, but doesn’t that count for something? Maybe I am just expecting him to be more upset over losing me. But I did have to laugh when his default picture had him wearing the Michigan State shirt I bought him, and her comment was less than thrilled...I found it highly entertaining.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
I have never had a "it's my way or the highway" mentality, but sure there are things I like done a certain way. And yes I do get upset if they are not done my way. For example yesterday, in my opinion it was nice outside. There was a cool breeze. The sun was out, but it was not hot. So for me personally, I kept my window open before I left for class and work because I knew it wasn’t going to rain and I figured "Hey, fresh air!"
So I was gone from 7am until after 7pm and upon my return I notice that the air conditioning in my apartment is turned on. Hmm... I am perplexed so I ask my roommate, "Oh you have the air on?" I ask because I was clearly unaware. Then I simply state that my window had been open all day. In my opinion I didn’t have any clear indication of an attitude, but I certainly received one in response. I was just surprised at it being such a nice day outside that someone would need to turn on the air. It’s not like it was 90 degrees. To me air conditioning is a luxury not a necessity, especially when you are paying the bill. What I further don’t understand is why people are so quick to flip the switch instead of opening a window or removing their SWEATSHIRT! Don’t you think that’s more environment and cost friendly, or maybe that’s just me?
So I was gone from 7am until after 7pm and upon my return I notice that the air conditioning in my apartment is turned on. Hmm... I am perplexed so I ask my roommate, "Oh you have the air on?" I ask because I was clearly unaware. Then I simply state that my window had been open all day. In my opinion I didn’t have any clear indication of an attitude, but I certainly received one in response. I was just surprised at it being such a nice day outside that someone would need to turn on the air. It’s not like it was 90 degrees. To me air conditioning is a luxury not a necessity, especially when you are paying the bill. What I further don’t understand is why people are so quick to flip the switch instead of opening a window or removing their SWEATSHIRT! Don’t you think that’s more environment and cost friendly, or maybe that’s just me?
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