Blog #18

My plans as a writer:


When I was a little girl I wanted to become a children's author and illustrator. I loved creating stories from the experiences I had with my nephew. I was an aunt at the age of 10 and since then I have written numerous rhymes and stories based off my time with him. I have always wanted to get them published but I never took the next step but maybe soon I will take that chance. Also, I love to write poetry. I can create a rhyme scheme about anything off the top of my head but also besides rhyming I love to create free flowing poetry about almost anything. I sent one poem called "The Field" to poetry.com and won the editors choice award last year and received my poem in the mail with comments from various editors who gave great positive feedback.

I have stopped writing recently since I am so busy with school but maybe when this semester is done I can write like I used to when I was younger. I would love to be published but if I never get the chance to then it will be okay because writing is a hobby that makes me happy and allows me to escape from the world every once and a while.

What’s the most important thing you learned about writing in this course?

I found out how much you can analyze something by doing the Nature writing paper. Even through doing the exercise in class with the apple, I would have never known to look so deeply into one thing so through writing the Nature article I began to look at things more differently and closer.

What was the hardest essay to write?

The nature essay would also be the hardest essay I had to write becauseI had never written one before and wasnt too sure on how what aspects of what I was looking at to put in and what to put out.

What essay did I take the biggest chances with?

I think I took the biggest chances with writing my personal essay about what I went through with my anxiety. I never really exposed what I went through to other people besides my close family and friends and I think getting it out there allowed to feel more proud of what I overcame than embarrassed.

What do I want to write my reflective essay about?

I will probably write about how my process has never changed throughout all of the years and that since I found it to be helpful with all of my writing I kept the same process

What do I definitely not want to write about in my reflective essay?

I probably will not want to write about my grandmother passing away and my idea of valentines day because till this day I am extremely emotional about it and while writing that story I found that I cried a lot through it.

#15

When writing my Feature Article.....

how did I start?
I thought of a topic that I am very familiar with and I thought defending sororities and the typical sorority sterotypes was a fitting topic since I have been a sorority sister for the past 4 years. I started by organizing the main points I wanted to address and then fit peoples opinions into each topic.

when did I figure out my focus?
I figured it out during class when we went around and discussed the ideas we might have. It was my first idea and it was the one I went with.

what did I leave out? what did I change? what did I emphasize?
I spoke about all of the benefits of sororities and I left out some drawbacks sorority life might have like having to go to everything even when you dont want to. I emphasized the positives of being a sister and also some opinions people had on sorority life.

where did I get stuck and how did I get unstuck?
I got stuck when I had to think of who to interview but after talking to some sorority sisters from different organizationss it became easy.

what were my major revisions?
I really didnt have major revisions. My outline led to my essay and when I constructed mye ssy I didnt have to turn back and change anything to drastic.

how did my life (not on the page) affect my writing process?
Being that I have so much on my plate it wasa hard to find time to sit down and write.

where and when did I write my best? what time?
I write my best when I am sitting on my bed with the tv on in the background and I am by myself.

what writing rituals did I engage in?
Before I write in my bedroom I haveto make my bed and clean my room so Im sitting in a clean and non cluttered environment. When it comes down to writing rituals I normally do, I didnt freewrite like I normally do but I outlined first.

how did I use thinking, talking and writing to develop my paper?
I thought first then discussed my essay topic with some sisters who helped my develop key points to mention.

how did I know when I was finished and how did I decide where to start?
I decided to start my paper by talking about the sterotypes that we face as sorority girls and then went from there and then I knew I was done with the essay when I ended it on the note of talking about how all of those sterotypes are wrong which tied it into the first paragraph.

#14

Steps I take when writing

1. I freewrite evertything: I dont think about my grammar or organization but rather just let my ideas flow

2. I reread what I wrote and put my thoughts into an outline form

3. I then write my essay, using the outline as a guide, and add transitions and so on

4. I normally do two drafts and have atleast two different people read my essay because I always miss a lot of errors or just to see their perspective on what I should maybe change

#13

You Say I Pay For My Friends? I Don’t Think I Pay Enough.
My Fight Against Sorority Misconceptions

When I walk around in public wearing my Greek letters I can’t help but feel that people are constantly passing judgment. Unfortunately, it’s an upsetting position most sorority girls encounter. Many people believe that Greek life’s only focuses are only to party and get drunk but sorority life is not what many people think of it. It is sad that sorority girls have been standing up against certain stereotype for years. Instead of being seen as smart, academically focused, and friendly, our letters give people the idea that we are airheads, slackers and bitches. If you are one of those people who judge us but don’t truly understand us here is a chance to open your mind.

Allow me to start by verifying that I am far from the sorority stereotype. Since being at Kean University, I have been freshmen and sophomore class president of student council, been on the deans list, a member of the English national honor society and have won many honors such as the Volunteer of the Year Award. Like myself, each one of my thirty sorority sisters are driven young women who despite being apart of a “clique” have different majors of study, belong to different groups on campus, and all have unique personalities.

Being that Kean University is a commuter school, it is hard to not only meet many people but find things to do especially on the weekends. Melissa Ziomeck, a former graduate of Kean and former sister of Nu Theta Chi says, “Being apart of a sorority I had people to hang out with and places to go all of the time. If I didn’t join one at Kean I probably would have transferred”.

Amanda Fizz, a member of Nu Sigma Tau, a local sorority on the KU campus also tells what she benefits from being a sister, “I am constantly asked why I joined a sorority and I tell them one main reason is because we do so many community service acts throughout the year, all great experiences I probably would never have been apart if I hadn’t joined”.

Some examples of these community service acts that our sorority is apart of is Breast Cancer Walk, working at the Somerset Hills Food Bank, raising money at Up Till Dawn, an event for St. Judes Children’s Hospital, and our philanthropy which is an yearly event that not only commemorates a sister who passed away from Lou Gehrigs Disease but raises scholarship money for students.

Not only are these girls benefiting from doing these community service acts by becoming better people but their résumés are enhanced as well which will allow them to have a impressive advantage over many college students when they begin to get out into the interview process for jobs.

Although there are seventeen different sororities on campus with girls who all saw the benefits of joining, there are still a large amount of girls who never cross into the Greek life. Nicole Franchino, a senior at Kean, says, “My parents had an issue with me joining because of the partying with frats and the environment of drugs and alcohol”. In my four years of being in a sorority, I have seen many girls, similar to Nicole, who thought about joining but were being swayed by the false information that their parents had.

If parents only knew that sororities surprisingly do not follow the motto “no work and all play” and that their daughters could be apart of weekly business meetings, then they might alter their perspective. These meetings are run by sisters who hold both executive board positions and other positions such as fund raiser chair, sisterhood chair and the historian. By taking on these positions, girls not only gain confidence in them and learn responsibility but most importantly acquire leadership skills.

At these meetings, each girl who holds a position speaks and when it comes down to making decisions it is an environment where every girl’s opinion matters. For shy girls who have never spoken up, it is at place where these girls gain a stronger voice and more self-assurance. Also at these meetings, is where our dues are given to the treasurer, which pays for various things such as monthly sisterhood events, birthday and sister of the month presents, tee shirt money, our date party and our end of the year formal. Not only do we pay for these things but we pay various fines if we do anything inappropriate such as talking while someone else is speaking at a meeting or coming late to meetings or events. Kate Illiacheva, vice president of Omega Sigma Psi, states “The fines are meant to reinforce not only the respect level that every one deserves but also emphasizes that everyone has to pull their weight in order for us to succeed and honestly once these girls continue to rack up numerous fines, their manner eventually changes for the better.”

In the end, joining a sorority gave me the opportunity to find a second family away from home and allowed me to find a close group of friends that I wasn’t able to find in high school. By becoming a sister, I have learned how to work as a team, how valuable it is to volunteer, how to hold a position and be dependable and most importantly I have learned that the stereotypes that society gives sorority girls and Greek like as a whole are not only embellished but they are wrong.

Nature Essay

When people think of pigeons they often think of them as those pesky cooing birds that smell and go to the bathroom on everything but they are actually exquisite animals. My grandfather has been raising pigeons since I can remember. On his refrigerator for the past 40 years has been a picture of my mother when she was 10 years old and on the front of the newspaper Easter morning, wearing a white bonnet which had a flawless white pigeon perched on top. In the corner of my grandfather’s quaint little backyard, has been a pigeon coop with almost two dozen of these small feathered creatures for over four decades. Since pigeons have a short life span, tons of pigeons have been traveling both in and out of my grandfather’s coop. While I stand in front of the pigeon coop in my grandparent’s backyard, I watch the peaceful birds walk around bobbing their heads back and forth and softly cooing. My grandfather gently takes one out and hands it to me as I cup its body in my hands and closely examine its physical traits.

Its head is small and is a dark grey color compared to its whitish-grey body, which is covered in a blanket of soft feathers is around 13 inches in length. As I hold a male in my hand my grandfather informs me that they are slightly larger than females. These pigeon’s beety eyes are an orange color because it is an adult while young pigeons under eight months old have brown or gray-brown eyes. These pigeon’s eyelids, like most, are orange and have a grayish-white eyes ring. Despite the fact that their eyes are incredibly small, pigeons have outstanding vision and they can see both colors and even ultraviolet colors. These pigeon’s feet are tiny, pink, and feel rough and dried out from the weather. Even though the pigeon I hold is a whitish-grey color, pigeons come in a variety of colors which is what makes them so special. Unlike other bird species who normally share the same colors, just as all blue birds are blue and robins are red, pigeons come in solid or speckled colors and have bright or dull feather colors.

I glance back at the coop and watch a few pigeons peck at the seeds and grains that my grandfather is throwing. What makes owning pigeons easy is that they eat just about anything and are not fussy eaters because unlike our 9,000 taste buds, they only have 37. What’s also intriguing is that unlike many birds that take sips of water and then throw their heads back so the water trickles down their throat, pigeons use their beaks as straws and suck up the water that way.

While I still hold the pigeon in my hands, I see my grandfather open the gate and watch as each pigeon flies out of the coop and out of sight. I gently open my hands and watch as the pigeon that I was just holding push out of my grip and disappear into the clear blue sky. Even though I have seen this happen thousands of times growing up, it still amazes me. Since pigeons have incredible “homing instincts” , it allows them to not only find home from far away but always guides them back, which is why they always return to my grandfathers coop. I watch the pigeons return back into their small home and it makes happy to see a smile of content on my grandfather’s face as he closes to the door to the coop.

personal essay

It happened so suddenly. I woke up in the middle of the night and suddenly I couldn’t swallow. I woke up my boyfriend in panic and needed him to get me water. I needed water but suddenly water wasn’t enough. I needed my mother. I called her and couldn’t help but cry right as I heard her voice.

“Hello?” her raspy startled voice answered
“Mom….I feel like I can’t swallow”, I said as I was trying to breathe slow enough to calm
myself down.
“Ok Erica…calm down. Do you want your father and me to meet you at the hospital?
she said in a soothing manner.
“Yes”, I blurted out without any thought.
“Ok, we’ll meet at JFK right outside of the emergency entrance”
“Ok”, I answered back and as I hung up I turned to my half a sleep boyfriend Dan and told him he needed to take me to the hospital.

We met at the hospital at 2 in the morning. I stood in front of the emergency room exit and waited until I saw my mother’s reddish blonde hair and a black sweat suit from across the parking lot. She gave me a hug and said, “Erica, everything will be ok” and just that made me a worlds difference. We sat in the waiting room, my father and Dan watching the news and trying to keep each other awake, sat across from my mother and I, who was holding my hand and talking about anything that would get my mind off the wait. She always did that when my sister and I were sick and even if was the silliest of topics to discuss, it always seemed to work.

After talking to a series of doctors who couldn’t figure out what was happening to me, it was my mother that realized what had happened. I was hit with an anxiety attack.That next morning, after the hospital, I went home and had my mother stay by my side. She held my hand through my shaking, wiped my tears after my crying and made me forget how bad I really was. She is like that security blanket that toddlers carry around, the one that for some reason they cry when they are without it because it’s that one thing makes them feel safe. I think I clung to her so tightly is because she suffered from anxiety and knows first hand how to deal with it so looking at her I see a survivor and hope that I myself am going to get me over this.

When my mother had to leave for work and I was all alone, is when the anxiety escalated. I suddenly wasn’t an independent college girl that could do anything by herself but rather became someone who couldn’t be left alone.

That week, I stayed at my grandmother during the day and was picked up by my mother after work. I felt like a little kid who needed to get babysat which made me cry even more. After three days of staying home, my parents thought that I should try to go back to my place and get back into the grove of things and as we were driving down the turnpike, I had a huge anxiety attack somewhere between my exit 9 and exit 13.

“Erica, why are you shaking so badly?” she said, trying to keep her eyes on the road and at the same time watch me.
“I don’t know mom, I don’t think I can do this” trying to hold my knees still from shaking. I didn’t want to scare my mom but I couldn’t help it.
“We’re turning around Bruce”, she said to my father, who was sitting in the back. “She needs more time, we rushed this too fast”, she said in a saddened voice.

A week after that night, I was in my apartment again. Every night after work my mother drove 40 minutes and came over to stay with me until my boyfriend came home at 9. For that week she focused on me. She called every hour and constantly made sure I was ok. One day I felt like my throat was closing and even though she told me it was because of my anxiety and nothing more she still took me to a throat specialist to make me feel better. She never made me feel embarrassed or crazy because she herself went through anxiety. Those nights she came up to stay with me, we would lay in my bed listening to soft music, and as she held my hand she would retell me stories about when I was a little girl.

“You know Erica, when you were little you were so clumsy, you must have came crying to me four times a day for bumping your head on something”, she said laughing as she looked over to me to see if I was smiling and I was.

“Eventually I bought you a helmet and you would wear that around like it was a princess’s tiara” she said laughing even more this time and letting out a joyful sigh.

Those small moments are the times I will never forget and the times I could never really explain to her how much they really meant. That week she temporarily deserted my father and younger sister and I am sure she neglected herself as well because I was the only thing that she was concerned about and I needed that. I needed her to pick me up a little each day and a little more each time we were together. She is the reason I am the Erica that makes everyone laugh or the Erica that is a happy young girl again.

Recently, our roles have switched. My parents are struggling financially more than ever and can’t afford to keep the house so it has been on the market for the past months. Since my father lost his job and my mother is only a secretary, they can barely afford to live anymore and I find that the strong woman who once got me through everything is now falling apart. I call her everyday to see how she is doing.

“Hey mom, what’s up?”, I said in a cheerful voice.
“Not much Erica, just a little stressed today”, she says with a troubled voice. “Your sister just told me the lights went off in the house and I can’t pay the bill because my card is maxed out”, she whispered in almost humiliation. “Can I use your card and I will pay you back?” she said.
“Of course” I said, and read her the information off my card. “Mom I don’t know why you don’t ask grandma and grandpa for help. You told me yourself, they helped Aunt Joanne out for years with financial problems”, I said trying to reassure her.
“I know Erica, but I never once asked anyone for help and I don’t plan on starting now. I don’t want to owe anyone anything”, she explained.

My mom was a mother at the age of 18, and since the time she had my older brother, she prided herself on being able to do things on her own. I understand where she is coming from but at the same time I wish she would just ask for some support.

She calls me everyday and tells me about how she is feeling and I am there to listen and build her slowly up as she has done for me. Sometimes I cry when I get off the phone with her because hearing that the one person you want to be happy is actually the saddest they have ever been is heartbreaking. I don’t cry when I’m around her or even show that I believe things are bad because she never once did that when I was going through my bad time. She always made me feel that the bad times were going to pass and I was going to get better without a doubt and that is exactly what I am doing today. She is more than a mother and I am more than a daughter to her. We are best friends and each others support system.

“I’m sorry to put this all on you Erica, I never wanted you to see me like this”, she said one time when we went out for lunch.
“I know mom, but it’s ok because I love you and I am here for you just as you were there for me” I said reassuring her.

I always let her know that I am here for her and that her problems are not too much for me too carry and little by little she has been opening up. When I give her a hug, it’s the strongest hug my arms can give and when I tell her I love her, it’s the most heart felt expression.
The weeks that I suffered with my anxiety was a time I will never forget because I became the weakest I ever thought I would possibly be but also because I realized what a strong and loving woman my mother is. When I was at my weakest I couldn’t help myself but needed my mother to get me to where I needed to be, and now being able to do the same is the most important role in my life right now. By caring for me, my mother taught me how to care for her.
My mother and I have shared many memories in the past but now we both share that horrible feeling that nothing is ever going to get better, but I am by her side everyday telling her that although we cant see it at the moment, it’s a time in our lives that we eventually grow from and realize the strength we have because of what we have overcome. I pray every night for the times my mother is facing to end soon but in the mean time I am standing as strong as my mother once did

Blog 9

Three descriptions:

The sprinklers go on and starts to tick left to right, pushing the flowers back every time the water hits their limp bodies. Some tiny beads of water remain on their face and others slowly drip off. Waiting for another attack, the flowers are still for just those few seconds until they are shaken again.

The long stem Roses that stand in the garden have a certain arrogance about them. Their beauty is stronger than any flower and their smell overpowers any other as well. Deep down they know they are the showcase of the backyard.

The pigeons coo now and then, bobbing their heads as they walk back and forth waiting for their chance to explore. When they are let out, their ivory bodies fly into the sky, blending into the clearness of the day and into the white almost transparent clouds .

Blog #8

Nothing is better than sitting on a cushioned backyard swing, feeling the breeze on your face, slightly pumping your legs and feeling like a kid again on a swing and being able to truly enjoy nature. In this yard, to the left of this swing, is a tiny yellow shed that is connected to metal rods that have beautiful flowing grape vines wrapped around its arms. In front of the shed are tall stem roses of every color, that each encompasses its own beauty but together blend almost as individual paint colors do to create an exquisite portrait. Next to the shed is a quaint pigeon coop with small feathered creatures with pushed out fluffy chests and such small eyes that it sometimes leads me to wonder if through those minute eyes they can see the full beauty of where they live. Around the side of this shed is a cluster of such diverse flower families. I remember as a child going to every flower and having my grandmother tell me what each flower was. She told me how each flower has a meaning and each flower stands for a human emotion. The white lily means “it’s heavenly to be with you” and the yellow tulip means “there’s sunshine in your smile”. Through flowers my grandparents created a bond together and their own language. Whenever my grandfather wanted to truly show my grandmother how he felt he would bring home seeds to plant. Her favorite that she can remember is the stock flower which means “you'll always be beautiful to me”. I loved hearing these stories because it made nature seemed so very romantic.
Nature to me is swinging on the seat in the backyard of this quaint little home, smelling the flowers and watching the pigeons, that my grandpa sets loose, return back to their small home knowing that although they can fly anywhere they want, they have realized how beautiful their home, in this charming spot, really is.

Blog 7

My memoir is about how I felt when my grandmother died and how I take adantage of telling the grandparents that I still have how much they mean to me. My foocus is how important it is to tell the ones you love how much they mean to you on a daily basis and to treat everyday like Valentines day. While writing this story I certain of everything I wrote because it is the most vivid memory I have as a child. There is no alteration in anything from the smell of the house to making cookies, everything is exactly how I recalled and to make sure I called my mother who reconfirmed that day for me. The dialouge that I have in the beginning with my grandmother is the same conversation I have with her almost every week. There are no relevant details that I left out and the details that I added in the beginning of the story were meant to make the day seem beautiful so the readers can envision a Valentines Day morning. The tone I choose in the beginning is happy and peaceful and as I was writing the 2nd part I felt sad and also felt that it was insightful towards the end because I did learn something from that experience. My grandmother is my main focus and she was such an incredible woman, I probably didnt even idealize her enough. My motive was to get across how great she was and how special she was in my life.

Blog 6.5

Schwartz’s essay is about how to write a memoir that is based on truth events and drawing the line between a memoir and a fictional story. A good example of this is James Frey’s book. Even though Frey touches up events that he did experience, he exaggerates them which make them false. His story could have been a non fiction memoir but it is sadly a fictional story, one that I personally feel no one should spend time reading. I could understand if an author can not remember specific colors to things or outfits and if these changed aspects are not important to the story then I feel it is ok to stretch a little. Also, what I believe is ok to modify is the characters name so their identity is protected but anything else is unacceptable. It is not ok, however, to add characters and people that never existed, as Frey did in his book. All in all, I feel like what Frey did was wrong and I think he added all of those false experiences because he felt his life was too boring to be a good read.

Blog #6

Y Memoir Y

"Hello?"
"Hi Grandma, Its Erica"
"Oh hello Erica, how nice of you to call, how are you?"
"Im good grandma, I was just calling to let you know that I will stop over this weekend for lunch"
"Aw, that sounds great Erica, "

"Ok then I will see you friday. I love you grandma, and tell grandpa that I love him too"

"I will Erica, we love you too"

I know that I am privledged to have atleast 2 grandparents that are still apart of my life and after loosing my other 2 Ive learned to appreciate them more than ever. If Ive learned anything so far in life its that you should always remember to let the people that you love the most know every once in a while how important they are to you. I guess what I am trying to say is just treat every day as if it were Valentine's Day.

Its funny how there are those random things you remember from your childhood. Sometimes I cant even remember what I did last weekend but for some odd reason I can remember the burnt orange rug I sprawled out on at my great-grandmothers house when I would watch Barney and I remember going to the movie theatre for the very first time to see Beauty and the Beast, and how scared I was of that Beast. There is one memory in particular that will always be in my memory bank, vivid as ever.

It was a beautiful day, sunny and warm outside but especially beautiful because it was Valentines Day. I have loved Valentines Day since I was a little girl. . I loved the idea that it was a day to just say how much you loved everything. I would walk around to my dog Buffy and say, “Buffy, I love you” and then Id move on to my bear and say “Bella, I love you.” My mother and I made heart shaped cookies and the house smelt of fresh roses that my father gave my mother earlier that morning. We received small baskets with chocolates and a Valentines Day card and my sister and I presented our computer paper cards with crayon scribbles to our parents as well.

Around evening time, the phone rang and my mother answered it as she always did with this happy-go-lucky tone but then instead of hearing a loud and energetic tone I heard soft mumbles for awhile. My mother called me upstairs and sat me down on her bed, high enough that I had to really jump up to get on, and kneeled in front of me. She placed her hands on my legs and said “Erica, I am so sorry to tell you this but Grandma Irene passed away today. She’s gone”. I felt like I couldn’t swallow, the room seemed so small and I remember getting mad. I was so mad I pushed my mom away from me and ran to my room hysterical. When I got to my room I went right to my window and looked outside as I cried. Till this day whenever I get really upset and have to cry I go to my window and look outside. I don’t know why but for some reason it always comforts me.

My grandmother Irene was like a second mother to me. When my mother was pregnant with my little sister I stayed with my grandmother every day and after my mother gave birth she was horribly sick for 3 months after so those months I stayed with her as well. There was no place I would have rather been than at her house helping her clean and singing songs with her. She is the reason I am such a neat freak because she always took pride in what she had and took great care of it. She always knew how to make me smile and she would take me to the park whenever I went over and we would hold hands talking about everything and anything. The few months before she passed she was diagnosed with lung cancer and had to have a tube up her nose and had to carry around an oxygen tank. I hated that. It made me cry every time I saw it. When she went into the hospital I would make my mom take me everyday and I remember the time when I brought in nail polish and I painted her nails for her and I also painted the nails of the lady next to her, whose name was Mary.

At the wake I was horrible. I remember that room so vivid and as I saw her body I ran as fast as I could towards her and threw my body onto her. My mother and father had to pry me off and they decided that I had to be taken home and not be there anymore. I was screaming and crying and I remember not being able to go to the cemetery.

Looking back, I can still hear her Hungarian accent, accenting the C in Erica every time she called my name. I can still smell the peanut butter cookies we made and the smell of the pledge we used to clean all of her furniture. I remember her smell and how comforting her hugs were. I am 21 years old now and I have never touched a cigarette. I told myself I would never smoke because it was what killed my grandmother and it’s a promise to me that I will always keep for her. I look back on this and I could cry write now but I am also so happy that I was so upset for someone in my life because it meant that I was blessed with someone so special in my life. On Valentines Day I try to be happy but deep down it always brings me back to that day 14 years ago. I now see Valentines Day as not just a day to tell who and what you love the most that you love them but a day to embrace the things and people you once loved as well.

Blog #5

Overall, my essay is about how my mother has helped me through the worst time in my life so far and how I am able to help her as well. I dont think there is any better feeling that having my mother rely on me for support when all of these years I have been needing her. I love how our relationship has grown outside of the boundaries of just mother and daughter but more of a woman to woman friendship.

My audience would be around my age group, which is teenagers who are coming into adulthood. I think this story works for teens because most teens hope to oneday have a closer relationship with their parents when they get older. Hearing my story also sends the message that even though our parents are the older, wiser and stronger figures in our lives, they can also become just as weak as us.

My purpose is to show that I have suffered and gone through the worst time in my life and not only did I bounce back enough to be able to help someone else out but I did it with help. Many times teens shut their parents out of their lives but there is noone who loves you more in this life than your parents and that is something I have learned more than ever in the past year.

My format is segmented almost like a set of hills. I fall down then with help I rise up and then my mother falls down and I am trying to get her to the top with me. Overall, it is broken into four parts.

Blog #3

Brainstorming

Time I was most scared
The time I was the most scared in my entire life was when I was on my dock at my shore house leaning over the lagoon with a little net in my hand and I was trying to reach the small fish in the water. As I went to swoop up the fish I fell into the water. If you’re not familiar with lagoons, in the water lurks crabs and eels and turtles and everything that I thought was going to attack my little feet. I clung to the dock and when I tried to scream NOTHING came out! Finally the neighbor across the lagoon saw my head in the water and my little fingers clasping onto the wood and screamed to my mother who was NOT paying attention to me that I was in the water. I couldn’t speak for about an hour and I told my mom I hated her for not watching me.

Most important people in my life
My mother is the most important person in my life. She has gotten me through everything whether it was sicknesses, heartaches, disappointments, or failures she has always picked me up.

My grandfather is also a huge part of my life. He is the one person that I want to please all of the time. He always goes out of his way to make me smile and even though he doesn’t talk much he has his way of showing his love. I pride myself on being his favorite and even though he can’t admit it I know I am

My boyfriend is also so important to me. He is who unwinds me after a long stressful day and when I am with him nothing else really matters.

My best friend Christa is also important in my life. She is the one friend I know that would be there if I ever needed anything. I have known her since 3rd grade and I hope our friendship never ends.



A Place that is most important to me
My shore house is really important to me. I have grown up there every summer and it is the one place that brings all of our family together. When we are there, my cousins are jumping in the pool, I tan with my sister, my brother and his son are playing video games, my uncle is fishing off the dock, my mom is relaxing on the boat, my dad is playing cards in the den with my boyfriend, my grandfather is fixing something around the house and my grandmother is cooking. There’s nothing better than a beautiful summer’s day at a beautiful place, in a quiet peaceful neighborhood and in company of your family.

A Family Story
The one story my grandmother always tells about me is the time I split milk on her rug when I was 7 years old. My grandmother was furious and said “Erica, next time you do that I’m going to pull every hair out of your head”. It was a little extreme but her rule was no food in the living room, a rule I had broken many times before this event. That entire evening I didn’t say anything to my grandma because she scared me to the death but when my mother picked me up that evening, I walked to the front door to leave and I turned around and said to my grandma “ Grandma, did you really mean EVERY hair on my head?”. She loves loves LOVES this story. I cant tell you how many times she tells everyone.

My hopes
The best thing that could happen to me is that I can look back one day on my life and say that I was happy with the career I have chosen, and happy with the man that I choose to be my husband, and that I did everything I want to do and saw every place that I wanted to see. I don’t want to regret anything in life and I think accomplishing that would be a great feeling.

Blog #2

“My Father Always Said”

Schwartz uses 6 sections to deliver her story:

In Segment #1: She speaks about the New York environment that she lives in and her life as a teen in America. She wants to do everything an average teenage girl would want to do like hang out with her friends and wear make up. Just as similar, she has a father who doesn’t agree with some of the things she does.

Segment #2: This part is where she sees her father’s past and is surprised by what she was brought to see. First, she comes to the realization, through the environment around her, that her father was hick. Also, she finds out about how her father had a commitment to a synagogue every Friday and couldn’t imagine not being able to hang out with her friends. This is when she begins to understand her father a little more and the importance of going to the temple.

Segment #3: This part is where she is finding more of an interest level in her father’s life. She is told the story about how the Germans burnt down the synagogues and understands why her father is so weary to let her hang out with strangers and people that are not family. Later, on her trip to Rindheim she is surprised to see that the building that was once a synagogue is a now a Protestant church and comes to the realization that as time goes on; elements of life are constantly changing.

Segment #4: This part is where she is introduced to her father’s school. Her interest level grows when she is taught about the school system her father once had to go through, where children were separated because of their religion. She starts to understand how unjust his childhood was

Segment #5: They visit the cemetery to see the graves of some of her family members. Here, Mimi participates in honoring her relatives by placing a stone on one of her family member’s grave. She is not only maturing, at this point, but is appreciating the heritage more

Segment #6: In this segment she is at the cemetery and listens to her father tell a story about Tante Rosa, who stayed in Germany and was eventually sent to a concentration camp. He is distraught by this memory and she begins to really understand the hard times her parents had to face. While at the cemetery, she also visits the graves of her grandparents and tries to envision what they would have been like. She realizes the choice her father made in coming to America was to not only escape danger but give his children a better life to live, which gives her a better understanding of why family is so important to him.

In today’s society, its hard to truly be on the same page as your parents since we are completely different generations but by finding out aspects of their past is a way to not only better understand them but a way to see all of the obstacles they had to face when they were our age. I enjoyed this story and hope to gain an insight into the lives of my parents as Mimi did.

Draft

Lean on Me


It happened so suddenly. I woke up in the middle of the night and suddenly I couldn’t swallow. I woke up my boyfriend in panic and needed him to get me water. I needed water but suddenly water wasn’t enough. I needed my mother. I called her and couldn’t help but cry as my voice quivered the word Mom. We met at the hospital at 2 in the morning and after talking to a series of doctors who couldn’t figure my symptoms out it was my mother that realized what had happened. I was hit with an anxiety attack.
That next morning, after the hospital, I went home and had my mother stay by my side. She held my hand through my shaking, wiped my tears after my crying and made me forget how bad I really was. She is like that security blanket that toddlers carry around, the one that for some reason they cry when they are without it because it’s that one thing makes them feel safe. When my mother had to leave for work and I was all alone, is when the anxiety escalated. I suddenly wasn’t an independent college girl that could do anything by herself but rather became someone who couldn’t be left alone.

Finally after a week I was in my apartment again but every night after work my mother drove 40 minutes and came over to stay with me until my boyfriend came home at 9. For that week she focused on me. She called every hour and constantly made sure I was ok. One day I felt like my throat was closing and even though she told me it was because of my anxiety and nothing more she still took me to a throat specialist to make me feel better. She never made me feel embarassed or crazy because she herself went through anixety. Those nights she came up to stay with me, we would lay in my bed listening to soft music, and as she held my hand she would retell me stories about when I was a little girl. Those small moments are the times I will never forget and the times I could never really explain to her how much they really meant. That week she temporarily deserted my father and younger sister and I am sure she neglected herself as well because I was the only thing that she was concerned about and I needed that. I needed her to pick me up a little each day and a little more each time we were together. She is the reason I am the Erica that makes everyone laugh or the Erica that loves to give gifts or the Erica that is a happy young girl again.

Recently, our roles have switched. My parents are struggling financially more than ever and can’t afford to keep the house so it has been on the market for the past months. Since my father lost his job and my mother is only a secretary, they can barely afford to live anymore and I find that the strong woman who once got me through everything is now falling apart. She is depressed and cries almost every time I talk to her. She prided herself on being able to do things on her own and because she now needs help to get by she is not herself. She calls me everyday and tells me about how she is feeling and I am there to listen and build her slowly up as she has done for me. Sometimes I cry when I get off the phone with her because hearing that the one person you want to be happy is actually the saddest they have ever been is heartbreaking. I don’t cry when I’m around her or even show that I believe things are bad because she never once did that when I was going through my bad time. She always made me feel that the bad times were going to pass and I was going to get better without a doubt and that is exactly what I am doing today. She is more than a mother and I am more than a daughter to her. We are best friends and each others support system.

To get my mother through her hard times, I call her everyday to let her know that I am thinking about her and I make sure I tell her something that will brighten up her day. I drive home atleast twice a week just to clean to house for her and make sure we have lunch on fridays to catch up. I always let her know that I am here for her and that her problems are not too much for me too carry and little by little she has been opening up. When I give her a hug, its the strongest hug my arms can give and when I tell her I love her, its the most heart felt expression I can give.

The weeks that I suffered with my anxiety was a time I will never forget because I became the weakest I ever thought I would possibly be but also because I realized what a strong and loving woman my mother is. When I was at my weakest I couldn’t help myself but needed my mother to get me to where I needed to be, and now being able to do the same is the most important role in my life right now. My mother and I have shared many memories in the past but now we both share that horrible feeling that nothing is ever going to get better, but I am by her side everyday telling her that although we cant see it at the moment, it’s a time in our lives that we eventually grow from and realize the strength we have because of what we have overcome. I pray every night for the times my mother is facing to end soon but in the mean time I am standing as strong as my mother once did, and for that I couldn’t be happier.

Blog #1

Design PLan

The purpose of my writing is to tell the readers the horrible experience I went through and how I bounced back. My motivation is to give motivation to those who are now going through trouble times or those who may face it down the road. I want my audience to come away with the feeling that although you may loose yourself from time to time you will always regain back all of the elements that make you who you are. Ultimately, my main point is that everyone experiences horrible times and everyone overcomes them, whether alone or with help, you have to know mentally that you will get better and what is happening will eventually fade away. I want to emphasize the idea of giving up pride and the idea of conquering bad times by yourself but rather leaning on those who are stronger at that time. It is so important to not only surround yourself with people you know you can trust but people who you know will devote their time to getting you better.
My audience is any age because bad times do not care about age. Although the bad experiences may differ for every single person, everyone gets hit with something that they struggle to overcome. These readers will be looking for my way of beating what was trying to beat me. I believe everyone comes to a time in their life when they are at their weakest and feel that they won’t be able to forget their pain, heal or move on. I also know that everyone has that one person they call if something ever goes wrong and if they had to finish the phrase “I couldn’t have done it without…” they would be able to finish. For me, my mother is my rock through all of the bad times I have faced and the lessons I want to teach people are all lessons that she has helped me learn.
The perspective my readers will be in will be as if they are my friend and I am telling them what has just happened to me and how I can give advice and prepare them for something similar to what has happened. I want the readers to know how scary anxiety is and essentially what it is. Many people don’t realize how powerful it is. It consumes your body and mind and makes you fear everything. You are constantly thinking the worst and that alone is such a horrible feeling to experience. I want the tone to seesaw up and down, going from a part of my scary experience to a segment on building yourself back up so my tone will be sad then uplifting and so on. The tone is important because it is how I felt when I went through anxiety. I felt bad one day and when I had a good day and felt hope, the next day would be horrible again and I’d lose all the hope I had gained yesterday. It is very much like a seesaw because your emotions are highs and low and you are trying so hard to just stay balanced.