Private writing:
I used to write in my personal journal very often, usually releasing subject matter I feel the need to put into words, but for my eyes only. I plan on writing more often and maybe trying to branch out and not be so secretive. It helps to share personal experiences that might be sensitive; it not only helps the writer but also others who can relate.

In writing in this course, certain issues of craft that I wanted to work on, writing process, description:
I have found that I have a nice flow in my writing, but sometimes need to either cut down on details or elaborate them. I still have problems finding an even balance with details, I like to include many aspects in my stories so that the reader can really see what happened or how I felt. Sometimes it is easier to understand without writing everything out directly.

Writers workshop, group:
I would like to say I’m interested in continuing writing, I do enjoy it and I like putting my experiences into words- but to be realistic I am so busy with other classes and 2 jobs. Writing is important to me and I’m sure I could make the time if I am driven and determined enough.

Writing in my profession:
I like to write about my job and the children I have worked with, I think those experiences make my best essays. I have been encouraged by others for a few years now to write a book solely based on the children I have worked with because I have had some very unique experiences. Since I have and work with so many different children my memory of each child is already getting hazy, I would love to preserve my memories through my writing so I can reflect and share with others. I believe all teachers should keep a journal about their students.

For my own interests:
As I stated above I would love to write all about the kids I work with. I would also like to write more memoir type essays for one I would like to write about being adopted. Being adopted has shaped who I am and my family, I have had a unique life journey that would be very nice to share.

Long term/short term plans for publishing:
If I could write about my kids and or personal memoirs in a finished way I would love to have them published. I have had many issues with trust and being extremely secretive growing up and I am slowly but surely opening up and letting others in without so much fear.

#16

What is the most important thing I learned about writing in this course?
I learned that there are many categories that fall under the umbrella of creative writing non-fiction. Such as literary journalism, memoir, personal essays, rhetorical analysis, nature essays, reflective pieces. I learned about using some helpful tools within my writing that expand and explore my essays such as using journal entries.

What did I learn from one of my papers?
In my memoir I used an old journal entry from my hand written journal, it helped to shed some insight into my past and make my situation clearer. Segmenting my writing made my essay more clear and helped it to flow without having to write out word for word what I wanted to get across.

Which essay was the hardest to write and why?
I got very hung up on my nature essay which I originally thought would be one of the easiest. I have a ton of incredible stories that I have encountered which have been in the outdoors. This essay proved to be difficult because it had to take place in the present, I couldn’t re-tell an experience. It had to be as if it were happening right now. I currently bounce from work to school to home, a rigid routine that does not include the outdoors except walking to and from my car and building to building.

Which essay pushed me most as a writer?
My memoir is the piece I am most proud of, mostly because it is about an experience that is so incredibly important to me and I’m thankful that it happened. The story pushed me as a person and helped me to move on and let go, writing about it brought back feelings of pride and ambition. I had often recounted this story to my family and close friends, but putting it down into words made it even more real and each time I read it I can feel as if it is happening all over again.

What do I want to write about for my reflective essay, my relationship and process to writing? Some observation for how my process worked.
I will be writing about my memoir which I refer to so often because I am proud of it.What don’t I want to write about in my reflective essay and why?I do not want to write about my nature essay, firstly because I am not proud of it which makes it painful to read. My nature essay to me isn’t even about nature, it is about my mundane daily routine which I do not dislike per say, but it is such a routine that I don’t want to relive it anymore than I have to.

# 15 Answers to Q's about my writing process

How did I start?
I ran a list in my head of experiences that had happened to me recently and instances that I grew personally from. I wrote down a couple of ideas and expanded on them briefly, then later chose the story that I felt I had the most to say about and wanted to share with others.

How did you choose your focus?
I pride myself on being driven to pursue my teaching career and working with special children. I wanted my focus to highlight my love for working with my campers, but also how it can be difficult to do so successfully when my thoughts were pre-occupied with my personal life. There is nothing I am more passionate about than working with teens with autism and I was almost horrified with myself for letting my focus slip when a man was not giving me the attention I desired. My focus is my turning point of when I let go of my personal hang-ups and fully zoned in to what made me truly happy.

What did I leave out? what did I change? what did I emphasize?
I left out details of my relationship from the previous summer, I don’t like to this about it often because it is still painful. Rejection always hurts so I was reluctant in pouring out the truly good times we spent together. I didn’t change anything which now that I think about it I probably should change some names, I would be very embarrassed if my essay fell onto the eyes of who I wrote about. I wanted to emphasize the relationship I have with my campers more so than the relationship with my co-worker that went sour. My campers are truly inspiring and I did not want my essay to revolve around the wrong character.

Where did I get stuck and how did I get unstuck?
I got stuck with arranging my segments. I know I needed to include background history before any reader could understand what I was talking about. I wanted to do it in a way that wasn’t so straight forward so I did it with an journal entry I wrote. This gave my audience just a taste of history without being so blunt.

What were my major revisions?
My major revisions took place during my last paragraph, tying the story together. I had to write it and re-write it a bunch of times in order to give my story meaning and reflection. It originally was very unclear and sort of just ended without any direction.

How did my life (not on the page) affect my writing process?
My life is made up of very similar daily routines that do not change much from week to week. I work every morning in a day care, I go straight to school, go home and work with 2 different boys twice a week in the afternoons. I have enough pockets of time to write and do my work although it is often stressful, but who can honestly say they don’t have stress in their life. My writing process was not affected negatively or positively by my daily routines.

Where and when did I write my best? What time?
I write my best during the day, I seem to need daylight to stay focused. Once nighttime falls I am tired and cannot focus as well in getting any type of work done. I write mostly during small breaks at home between work and school. I am good at sitting down and getting what I need to say out, I don’t do so well in starting and stopping – I tend to lose focus and forget main points I want to hit on.

What writing rituals did I engage in?
Journaling, free-writing, getting messy ideas out with any detail I can think of.

How did I use thinking, talking and writing to develop my paper?
I reflected upon my experience and thought about all the small details that went into my story. I did some free-writing to get everything out so I wouldn’t forget anything. I did not do much talking about my story with others besides in class. Working together in my group helped because we found that we all had a similar story regarding being a girl and how a man negatively affected our lives. (to put it frankly)

How did I know when I was finished and how did I decide where to start?
I knew I was finished when my whole story came together with the reflection. The reflection was the hardest to get out in words. I could physically feel my reflection and how it changed me but I found it difficult to convey this to others. I decided to start from the middle of my experience, if I had started from the very beginning it would be too long and most likely lost my audience with too many details.

#14

My memoir: Summer Skin

1. Reflection. I reflected on experiences that were powerful and meaningful to me, but could also prove to be inspiration for others. I wanted to write about an experience that happening more recently to make it fresh and relatable.

2. Free writing / brainstorming. I write best in journal like writing, I let messy thoughts flow with no true rhyme or reason. I let everything that pops into my head out even if I’m unsure if I will use it. I like to include everything such as the music I listened to at the time, the weather, my personal appearance, thoughts, the way the air felt, people, dates, time, location- everything.

3. Outline / re-write. I will read over my free writing and choose the most important pieces and work on them first. Secondly I will arrange smaller details and interject them under the larger key aspects. I will also look though my hand written journal to see if any entries can be useful.

4. Rough draft. I will tidy up my previous writings and connect them so they flow as evenly as I can at the time. I will also place journal entries if they help my piece and work well.

5. “Peer review.” I will often ask my friends or mother to give me feedback on my ideas. I usually do not let them read my writing, especially on this piece because it is personal to me. Speaking about my ideas allowed with others helps me to know if I have a strong or weak piece.

6. Final. I will put everything together, my main focus, details, journal entries and re-read it many times to make sure everything makes sense. If it doesn’t make sense to me then it won’t make sense to anyone else.

How did you choose your focus?
I pride myself on being driven to pursue my teaching career and working with special children. I wanted my focus to highlight my love for working with my campers, but also how it can be difficult to do so successfully when my thoughts were pre-occupied with my personal life. There is nothing I am more passionate about than working with teens with autism and I was almost horrified with myself for letting my focus slip when a man was not giving me the attention I desired. My focus is my turning point of when I let go of my personal hang-ups and fully zoned in to what made me truly happy.

How did you organize your essay?
I opened my essay as if my story was happening during the present time, although it took place last June in the summer of 2007. I gave details of where I was, my fears, and thoughts. I then present a flashback to the previous summer where I have a conversation with the person whom my essay features. This gives some insight and background to help my audience learn whom I speaking to, and our past together. I give detailed accounts of my days at camp and interject a personal journal entry from my hand written journal. I segment my essay in a way that the audience can easily follow and grasp my growth throughout my writing.

Did you use journal entries?
Yes, I used a journal entry that I had written in my personal hand written journal. The entry was dated June 28, 2007- which was written in the very beginning of my experience. It helps to show my hurt and betrayal from a man who I thought I knew so well. It also emphasizes my pre-occupation with him and how it hindered my relationship with my campers.

How did you discover what you had to say?
I discovered my reflection simply by free writing and reflecting on each day that led up to my ability let go. My ‘letting go’ experience was so emotional that I wanted to be able to capture the feelings with words down to the last detail. The experience left me tearfully empowered and I want my readers to be able to see and feel this.

Literary Journalism

I have been working with children and teens with autism in many different settings since I was 16 years old. Currently at 22, my knowledge, interest, and experience with autism is continuously growing and expanding. Autism is a relatively new diagnosis and a mysterious disorder; I want to look into the causes or reasons for autism. I am especially interested in hearing from others within the community and learning from their opinions and perspectives. Autism spectrum disorders are a group of neurological developmental disorders that impair a person’s ability to communicate with and relate to other people. Characteristic behaviors include impairment in communication and social relationships, restricted behavior patterns, rigid routines, and repetitive behaviors. Autism is found in all racial and social groups, although it is four times more likely to effect boys than girls.

Personal Interviews

Interview I

My first interview was with one of my closest friends as well as my co-worker, Domenic Longobardi. We have worked as a team at a special needs sleep away camp (Ramapo for Children) for the past three summers. We specifically work with teenage boys, all who are functioning on different levels on the autistic spectrum. Domenic is 21 years old and a special education major at the University of Southern Connecticut. He is currently a member of Best Buddies where he volunteers to spend time with a 51 year old autistic man. We are both actively involved within the autism community throughout the year.

When discussing the possible causes of autism, the common theme that we both agreed on is the theory of genetics. Surprisingly before the summer we both did not have a firm stance on the cause of where the disorder came from. With the completion of the summer we have become firm believers in that the cause of autism can be found in genetics. Having met the parents of every autistic boy we worked with, we felt that many of the family members shared some autistic qualities. None of them were nearly as severe, but being so familiar with the spectrum we were able to recognize the characteristics. Many of the fathers could easily been seen as having Asperger’s Syndrome. Asperger Syndrome is a form of autism where the individual has social and communicative impairments, but has fluent language and good academic ability.

Domenic recalled an example on visiting day involving the father of our camper, Joey. Joey’s father marched into the bunk and shoved a plastic bag of food into Dom’s arms. He made no eye contact and said “This is from Joey,” he then turned around and walked right back out, forgetting to greet his son. To the untrained eye this could have been a strange instance, but to Dom and I it was a classic socially awkward “Asperger like” moment. We are not saying genetics is the definite answer of this mysterious disorder, but from what we have encountered the correlation is high.

Interview II

Bernardo Pace

My second interview was with Bernardo Pace, a self-proclaimed autism enthusiast. Bernardo has a 15 year old non-verbal autistic teenage daughter named Gina, who has been going to Ramapo for many years. Bernardo talked to me about his Gina in detail, starting from when she was a seemingly ‘normal’ baby. Gina developed typically as an infant and for the first two and a half years of her life she was interactive as well as verbal. Bernardo and his family moved around this time and began to see Gina withdraw significantly, less eye contact and speech. Knowing nothing about autism he thought that this was just how Gina was reacting to her new situation and surroundings; a reaction in which language did not work for her anymore, anywhere. That summer they spent a lot of time at the beach, a familiar family vacation spot. During this time Gina seemed to spring back, using some words and interacting with her parents. Bernardo realizes now that in retrospect she was in a situation in which very few social and communicative demands were being asked of her. After that summer Gina withdrew again and has remained more or less this way ever since.

As a concerned parent Bernardo learned everything he could about autism, making it his personal duty to help not only his daughter, but to also help and educate the whole community. Presently, in addition to working with Gina at home doing an ABA (Applied Behavior Analysis) program, he has been a coach to other children with autism for the past 9 years. Bernardo is a great source of information and support to Ramapo for Children. He works with the camp counselors to help them effectively manage and advocate for campers with autism. His work also helps other campers to better understand and support their autistic friends in their bunks. “For me, it’s rewarding to help kids who have a steep climb in life and have such a hard time in so many ways to discover a hidden talent, to find a new activity, a new source of pleasure; to find themselves unexpectedly in a position where praise is being heaped upon them.”

Interview III

Lawrence

My final and most interesting interview was with Lawrence aka ‘LJ’ a 16 year old teen with high functioning autism. LJ has been my camper for the past 3 summers at Ramapo and I have seen him grow and mature immensely. Lawrence lives in Brooklyn, NY and attends a public school, and learns in a self-contained classroom. In the year of 2005, LJ went through a very rough period of time where he seemingly could not control his impulsive, dangerous, and often violent outbursts. His parents decided to take him off all medication and focus on other behavior therapies. This past summer of 2007 LJ has almost shed all of his inappropriate outbursts and in his words has “become a calm man.”

LJ is a very interesting individual to me, his verbal expressive language is phenomenal, although he frequently pretends that he cannot speak. It took a lot of prompting and pushing for me to get him to talk to me honestly. As with many individuals with autism they often pretend that they do not understand and limit their abilities, much like most typical teenage boys do. I asked Lawrence directly what autism meant to him. He said “Ramapo is for the autistic kids, Ramapo is autistic.” In asking him to explain further he began talking about high functioning and low functioning. He did not tell me directly what those terms meant, but he did even better by giving me examples. LJ has an excellent memory, he told me of a time where he himself was being very ‘low functioning.’ One year LJ’s father took a different route than normal to get to camp by taking the NY State Throughway. Lawrence, accustomed to routine was very upset about the different highway and had a tantrum in the car. “I was being low functioning with all that crying and hitting Daddy and that damn NY Throughway, I needed the Taconic State Parkway.” He said that when they take the Taconic he is high functioning, happy, and calm.

I have taken a lot of one on one time with LJ to practice appropriate behaviors through modeling, in a way that he can relate. Loud noises tend to aggravate and distract him, although the whole world is one big loud noise to Lawrence, he seems to hear things I can’t as hard as I try. Often Lawrence will tell me that he needs space when he talks to me, he says that my eyelashes are loud. “Jessie your eyelashes are loud and they hurt my ears.” At first I thought these sayings were nonsense, through exploration of autism I realized that in fact blinking my eyes could be distracting to him; due to his extreme heightened senses.

When involved with activities that are ‘too loud’ LJ will ask if he can take some personal space. This was a big issue that we worked on together. Previously LJ would have aggressive outbursts when he was overloaded and over-stimulated. He learned how easy it is so be open and clearly say “Jessie I need personal space, can I sit outside?” Or if he is really on edge he will hold his ears, make a painful expression with his face and look to me, without saying a word I will nod my head and he can leave. LJ loves to write, draw, and make lists with markers and paper so I gave him his own notebook to carry around. This is another outlet he can ask for if he is not feeling comfortable. The notebook has been such a success that he relates it to being a mature and grown up man. “Writing in my notebook and being a flexible man is high functioning.”

#13 Final Rhetorical Analysis for Publication

LaChancePublishing.com

1. Analysis of the editorial description of essays accepted
See http://www.lachancepublishing.com/guidelines.html

Explores the experiences of friends, family, and caregivers to those coping with various diseases; and/or physical/mental illnesses. Stories submitted are intended to share the struggles of disease, but provide inspiration as well.
Welcome non-fiction personal essays and stories—500 word minimum, 2,000 words maximum.

Submission deadlines:
Autism - January 31, 2008
Care Giving – December 31, 2007
Multiple Sclerosis – February 28, 2008
Bipolar disorder – March 31, 2008
Childhood Cancer – April 31, 2008
Diabetes – May 31, 2008
Heart disease – May 31, 2008
Parkinson’s disease – June 30, 2008

2. Description of several representative essays published in your venue:
This site allows you to read only two stories/submissions because the submissions accepted have been made into a book. In order to read the rest you must purchase the book.
“Elisabeth” by Misha Segal
“The Art of Memory and Belonging” by Tovli Simiryan
Subject matter:
A true story of a son writing about his mother’s battle with lung cancer.
A true story of a woman writing about her mother who struggled to learn English due to Alzheimer’s.

Voice: First person, narration, reflecting and detailed account of loved one’s struggles with disease.Philosophical reflecting – this site seeks stories that inform, give insight, provide inspiration, courage or comfort to those in need.Form (modes of writing/experimental) description, narration.

Artistry: these essays are more focused on providing hope and inspiration by being beautifully but honestly written.

Themes: recurring phrase “That was mama.”

Length: 500 word minimum, 2,000 words maximum.

3. Niche/audience - the general public and anyone who has been affected by illness.

Purpose - The “Voices Of” anthologies provide first-person essays offering support, perspective, insight and information to everyone touched by life threatening or chronic disease.

4. Other
FORMAT:
Microsoft Word Times New Roman,
12-point Left justified margins
Double spaced
Spell-checked/proofread
No electronic submissions
Replies within 16 weeks
Publishes about 20 essays every year
If admitted you can win up to $200

Required:
Place your name, address, telephone number and email address at the beginning of your story.
Required: Place your brief bio at the end of the story as you would like it to appear in the published work.

Be aware that if you are writing about another person’s life or experiences and your story is accepted for publication, you will be asked to provide a permission form from that person or from the legal representative of that person, whether alive or deceased.

#11 [B]Nature essay

At first glance this does not appear to be a nature essay, keep reading!

Every weekday morning I open the nursery at 8:30 promptly. My uniform consists of black stretch work out pants, a black t-shirt with the red and white Parisi Speed School logo on the back, and sneakers. I like that I get to wear soft comfy clothes as my ‘uniform.’ I work in the nursery within a fitness gym, where mothers drop off their children while they get in up to 2 hours of cardio and Pilates.

From the outside one would think I worked in a stuffy office building. Once I open the blacked out double doors the pumping upbeat music vibrates under my feet and a gust of air conditioning hits. I quickly mumble “Morning Joe” to the guy who is always behind the desk. I barely make eye contact and wonder, does he ever leave?! The track is to my right where young athletes train to improve their speed. The track itself is a light brown color surrounded by green asphalt in attempt to give the feeling of the outdoors. Making my way past the elliptical and treadmills I wave hello to the ladies trying to shed their baby weight. Turning to the left I hear the grunts of men with popping muscles furiously doing reps with intimidating barbells.

In the far corner all the way down the hall tucked into the back is the nursery. The door is made of glass which shows tiny smudgy hand and face prints towards the bottom. I flip on the light switch and the room is illuminated with neon bright white light, which is an awful contrast paired with the pale yellow walls. If I’m lucky I will have 5 minutes to myself where I can set up the sign in sheet, wipe down the tables [I never trust that this room is cleaned], and hide as many Barney videos as I can. I understand children love Barney, but if I hear those awful songs one more time I might scream. Putting The Sound of Music and Annie on display I cross my fingers in hopes that one of them will be picked.

The door opens while I’m still hiding videos, Elly comes running in rambling in a high pitched voice. Her mother is behind her holding baby Adrienne looking as if she has already put in a full days work. The girls are quickly signed in, the baby is handed over to me, and before I can wish their mother a good workout she is gone. Adrienne is about 7 months old with blue eyes, chubby cheeks, fair skin, and almost no hair- the epitome of androgynous babies. I wish I could take them outside its a sunny crisp morning. Unfortunatley there is no place to take them just a recently paved parking lot accompanied by a 4 lane busy Jersey road. The room is windowless so the door serves as our peak into the outside. Although darkened windows with thick blinds drawn hardly do us any justice. “Elly do you want to color? Watch a video?” I grabbed The Sound of Music, balanced Adrienne on my hip, and placed the tape into the VCR. I glance at Elly, she jumps up and down while yelling “Barney!!” I explain we’re watching a new video and try to distract her with different pictures to scribble on. Being 3 years old she happily follows directions as long as I talk with an excited voice.

With Elly coloring pictures and half of the little white table I sit on a mat in the corner with baby Adrienne. Every since I was 4 years old and my baby brother was brought home I adored babies and dreamed of being a mommy. I love when Adrienne grabs my finger for dear life. Her dimpled small hands with teeny tiny finger nails are beautiful to me. I lean against the wall and realize this is my favorite spot in the room, sitting with a baby under the large painted tree.

The tree is painted as if the roots were growing from the nubby blue carpet on the nursery floor. The yellow wall peers through the visible paint strokes of the bark. I hadn’t taken the time to wonder what kind of tree this was supposed to be and it is clear that the artist didn’t either. With a thick trunk made of interchangeable light and brown tones the branches reach out to the surrounding walls. Forest green oval shaped leaves adorn the thick branches, popping out without stems or reason. Looking up towards the ceiling an electrical outlet is supposed to be camouflaged, painted green and brown. How odd, why would there be an outlet all the way up there?

Upon examination I realize this is a pathetic attempt to recreate nature, but then again maybe the work is faulty because it is for children. The children of Parisi are too young to care about what type of tree is painted on their wall, all that matters is if they can identify what it is. I find this corner comforting because I have a clear view of the whole room where I can supervise, but relax with a child as well. This is the corner where I bounce and coo the babies and where I do story time with the toddlers. I have been drawn to this tree without recognizing its importance. Her imagined shade in this neon yellow room is comforting. I yearn for the outdoors daily, being inside the nursery I have been unknowingly sitting beneath what I crave.

#12 draft Rhetorical Analysis

LaChancePublishing.com

1. Analysis of the editorial description of essays accepted

See http://www.lachancepublishing.com/guidelines.htmlExplores the experiences of friends, family, and caregivers to those coping with various diseases; and/or physical/mental illnesses. Stories submitted are intended to share the struggles of disease, but provide inspiration as well. Welcome non-fiction personal essays and stories—500 word minimum, 2,000 words maximum.

Submission deadlines:
Autism - January 31, 2008
Care Giving – December 31, 2007
Multiple Sclerosis – February 28, 2008
Bipolar disorder – March 31, 2008
Childhood Cancer – April 31, 2008
Diabetes – May 31, 2008
Heart disease – May 31, 2008
Parkinson’s disease – June 30, 2008

2. Description of several representative essays published in your venue:

This site allows you to read only one story because the submissions accepted have been made into a book. In order to read the rest you must purchase the book.
“Elisabeth” by Misha Segal

Subject matter: A true story of a son writing about his mother’s battle with lung cancer.
Voice: First person, narrated by the son, reflecting and detailed account of his mother’s life. Philosophical reflecting – this site seeks stories that inform, give insight, provide inspiration, courage or comfort to those in need.
Form (modes of writing/experimental) description, narration.
Artistry: these essays are more focused on providing hope and inspiration by being beautifully but honestly written.
Themes: recurring phrase “That was mama.”
Length: 500 word minimum, 2,000 words maximum.

3. Niche
audience - the general public and anyone who has been affected by illness.
Purpose - The “Voices Of” anthologies provide first-person essays offering support, perspective, insight and information to everyone touched by life threatening or chronic disease.

4. Other
FORMAT:
Microsoft Word
Times New Roman, 12-point
Left justified margins
Double spaced
Spell-checked/proofread

No electronic submissions
Replies within 16 weeks
Publishes about 20 essays every year
If admitted you can win up to $200

#11 [A]Final draft Memoir

Summer Skin

I wait all year for this day to come and now that its here I am bursting with excitement, but my nerves are making me uneasy. Ramapo for Children has been my summer home since 2005, the most special place in my heart. Inspiring children, Enriching lives is our slogan. Ramapo is a sleep away camp for children and teens with emotional, behavior, at-risk, and autism spectrum disorders. It is also the most intense and humbling experience I have ever been apart of. Now I’m back, I always enter during training week about 5 days late due to summer school. This makes my transition more difficult because I miss out on the initial bonding between the new and old staff members.

Here I am, back again in beautiful upstate New York and I can’t even get out of the car. I have been dreaming of seeing him again, is he really back? Yogev- the most handsome and elusive man I have ever had the privilege to call mine; well he was mine, but briefly. The summer of 2006 was our summer.

“Wait, don’t open the door yet. I need to tell you something.” I want to touch his face and feel his smooth dark arms reach out for me; I want to tell him every piece of me adores him. I adore him for being kind and for sharing my passion of working with teenage boys with Autism. He looks at me and says “Jessie, sometimes I look at you while you’re working with your boys and the love you put out, I take in. I know I’m supposed to be a strong Israeli guy, but you bring me to tears.” I touch his face and can’t speak so I kiss him. He knows me! He gets me! I love him for acknowledging my talents and patience.

I walked down the trail looking for my new group of co-workers who would be my family for the next 9 weeks. They were sitting on the benches of bunks 17 and 18, I hate walking into groups especially when everyone is silent. I climbed the steps and coyly waved hello, once I was noticed huge hugs and smiles were exchanged. My friend Dan and now boss [so weird!] squeezed me tightly and said “Everyone this is Jessie, she is amazing. Please get to know her, its worth your while. I guarantee you will learn the most from this girl right here.” I smiled brightly and felt a bit more at ease, but where is he?!

He wasn’t there; maybe this is good because I do not know what to say to him or even how to look at him. It has been a year since we spoke, Israel and New Jersey is quite a distance. Oh god, that familiar scent- his cologne mixed with cigarettes, that is Yogev’s signature smell. His tan arms spun me around before I could react, he held my face and kissed my cheek. I was shaking, I’ve waited so long for this moment I wanted it to be perfect. I imagined we would run down the trail together laughing and holding hands, the way it used to be. Sadly I couldn’t have been more wrong. Barely making eye contact, he quickly walked to the other side of the deck and obviously pretended to be busy. This set the tone for summer 2007 ‘the best summer ever’ AKA the summer I learned to let go.

Our campers arrived on a Monday and I thought that he would have to speak to me, even if it was just work related. I was wrong again. Yogev acted as if I were invisible, he had others send messages to me even simple ones such as “Arts and crafts is being switched with basketball today.” What is his problem? What did I do? I became so self conscious, did I change? I began getting up earlier in the mornings just to make sure my completely unruly hair looked somewhat decent. A task which was a total lost cause because we live outside! Heat plus humidity does not equal good looking hair. Since when did I care about stupid things like this? I became so focused on myself and my appearance that I was slipping away from what is most important to me- my campers. I have worked with children and teens with autism since I was 12 years old, this is where I excel and have always felt one hundred percent confidant in my abilities. Ramapo has been a safe place for me because I am respected and highly appreciated by my co-workers. I have formed a strong bond with individuals with Autism because I find the lack of verbal communication fascinating. I am proud of my ability to communicate with my campers without speaking. Working with this population requires patience and the skill of incredible observance.

My camper Will is Yogev’s number one fan, he lovingly refers to him as “Goof” since he is unfamiliar with Israeli names. When Goof enters a room Will laughs loudly, flaps his arms, and becomes happily over stimulated. This reaction still makes my heart pump faster, even if he won’t look at me- the way he looks at Will is beautiful. At every meal Will sits in front of me, I realized we were both fixated on the same routine while in the dining hall. The famous routine of “Where is Yogev?” Will would twirl in his seat saying “GOOF” loudly, and I kept straining my neck and twisting in hopes to find him. Sitting in the dining hall I was so fixated on catching his eye that I didn’t eat much and I wasn’t engaging my campers with enthusiasm like I used to. I need to snap out of it, I have never let a guy cut into me like this.

June 28, 2007
“Fear is the heart of love, so I never looked back…” I should have known better, if you put too many expectations into anything- you will be left feeling dissatisfied and empty. I’m not here for romance, but since I had the best taste of it here previously I want it back SO badly. Last summer I never felt more beautiful and confidant and I had him to thank for that. Or was it my boys that inspired me? When he gave me that hug and kiss on the cheek I couldn’t stop trembling. I forgot how his scent empowers me. Please stop being so awkward around him, he loved you for you. He loved that you sang and danced with silly boys all say, he liked your messy hair. I would do anything to go back to the way we were.”

It was time for the counselor talent show, the whole camp comes together at the meeting grounds while singing and dancing for an hour. Events like these are often a disaster with my bunk, individuals with autism have a difficult time with loud and chaotic settings. I opted to stay out with my camper Alex. Alex is 14 years old, non-verbal, lanky, and easily frightened- which can lead to aggressive behaviors. He acts like a scared animal, always alert and ready to flee any situation that is unfamiliar to him. I took Alex’s hand and led him to the playground which is a good distance away from the talent show. He was unsure of what was going on and he immediately kicked off his shoes and ran across the soccer field. I wanted him to trust me so badly, I realized I did not have a relationship with this boy and it was already a week into the session. I am the group leader, I live with these boys day in and day out- how do I not know him at all?! I cannot believe I let Yogev busy my head with worries when I am here with a beautiful and intriguing child.

Alex’s twiggy pale legs were sprinting pretty fast now, I called for him and surprisingly he turned around. Like him, I kicked off my shoes and ran towards him. He waited for me, I took his hand and tried to have him run with me. He let go and stared at me, “Come on Alex lets run this way!” I try to imitate many of my campers behaviors in order to get a reaction from them and have them see that what they are doing is okay [as long as they are being safe.] He followed my lead and we headed for the swing set, I was smiling as big as I could trying to convey to him ‘happy’ and ‘this is fun.’ He smiled back! I was so excited he even began to giggle, this small break gave me a surge of energy. He happily sat on a swing, looked at me and in sign language said ‘more.’ I almost fell over, I didn’t know he could sign! He signed to me, this is amazing. I eagerly went behind him and pushed him on the swing, then I ran in front. Each time his legs went up to pump I jumped to tickle his toes. He was now laughing hysterically and signing ‘more’ repeatedly. We were feeding off each others energy, and I finally began to feel centered.

It was July and the thick humid air made both of our arms and legs slick with sweat. The swing set remained mainly in the shade, providing minimal relief from the heat. Each time Alex would pump his pale legs the sun would shine on his face and make his wide blue eyes sparkle. I have encountered so many Autistic children with these large glistening eyes that must have been given to them for a reason. The way Alex looks at leaves or digs furiously in the dirt intrigues me, I think he has the gift of seeing things I cannot. This is why I am here; this is why I love Ramapo so much. I do not come here for personal relationships, how dare I let myself get wrapped up in a man. How dare I forget to look into my boys glistening eyes as often as I can. I am brought back to my well-being, brought back to my desire of wanting nothing more than to enter the mysterious world of Autism.

I was so overjoyed and elated that Alex helped me find myself again that I stopped the swing, reached out for him and hugged him tight while saying ‘Thank you.’ He was not interested in my over affection, he wriggled out of my grasp and took off running across the field, just as we had begun. I looked to the sun, soaked in the trees and clouds. I took off after Alex, my hero. We laughed and took turns chasing each other, forming an unconventional game of tag. Being under the summer sun we were both dripping with sweat, and I never felt more beautiful and confidant. I picked up our shoes, we twirled down the trail together and I never looked back.

#10

I think the previous post works for this one as well, they are all detailed nature writing ideas. This one is about the plant in class:

Your eyes are instantly drawn to the vivid orange blossoms which are filled with bright yellow and patterned with red polka dots. The flowers are not open faced with petals, but look like little bloated tubes adorned with red skirts. They grow in clusters and bend from the stems all in the same direction looking for the sun. Forest green leaves sprout from the base to the top, their undersides are a lighter green. Each leave is split down the middle by a large vein with less visible streaks. The tips of the leaves are curled and brown, a result of water deprivation. Younger buds range in color from light green while the more mature buds turn to burgundy much like the stems. The immature blossoms begin to grow in between the leaves, as time passes they move upwards to bloom. Growing along the rim of the terracotta pot the plant has left the middle empty and tangled with roots. Tiny black poppy seed like points hide within the tubes contrasting against the sunny filled insides.

So far I do not like any of my ideas and need to find something that works.

#9

My first idea is the post below here are my 2nd two:

Weeping Willow – thin, looks young, only a few years old, slim trunk. Couple of branches stemming off with very fine limbs almost like a skeleton. They move like hair swaying in the wind, delicate. The bark is patchy like a giraffe’s neck, some knots in the middle. Small eyes imprinted in the wood stare back at me. The leaves are a light green, some turning yellow due to the season, and some limbs are completely bare and lonely. Her structure is too barren and weak to support animal life. She is placed in the center, surrounded by older and wiser oaks and sturdy sweet gums. The willow looks meek and modest, out of place. The branches lift with the smallest breathes of air. Shaped like a droopy, broken umbrella with stray wires jutting out, I do not know if it will survive the winter.

With this piece I could stem off and compare the willow to how I felt small and not as strong as others around me. With time and growing knowledge I became more assertive and comfortable with myself and being with others.


Maple Tree – Slanted and growing on an angle not fully grown, but on its way. The branches and leaves are clustered at the top, leaving the trunk free of clutter. It looks like a giant lemon lollipop or tufts of yellow cotton candy. The leaves are a mixture of bright yellow with burnt orange and red at the very top, the closest to the sun. A large nest made of brown crumbled leaves is fastened to the outer limbs. When a breeze comes through a medley of gold shakes and flutters to the ground. The maple is placed in front of a giant, thick tree taller than the building behind it. The yellow maple accents the bigger nicely, directing your attention to her bright colors and unique growing pattern. Her slanted trunk is a result of pushing its way towards the sunlight, her need for survival and escape from the shadows cast from the dominant tree.

This piece could be similiar to the willow. This maple tree is striving to shine and be seen, growing infront of a much bigger oak. I could relate by taking my time in finding who I am and being comfortable with my life and choices.

#8 nature writing

I look forward to Sundays every week because I get to take my friend Andy out on adventures. Andy is 15 years old and has low-functioning Autism and his speech is difficult to understand. He has the bluest eyes I have ever seen and an innocence that makes him so beautiful. I'm not one to turn to God often, but I truly believe this boy is one of God's angels and I am a better person just from knowing him.

This past Sunday I went on a hike with Andy in the woods near his house. I had a printed map of the trails and reservation, but half an hour into our walk the map was useless. I put my trust in Andy and he became my tour guide. After walking for some time Andy pointed to an off beaten path filled with sharp rocks and prickly branches, but he seemed confidant in what he was pointing at so I followed him. The rocks jutted out of the ground in a staggered and uneven fashion, Andy and I used each others shoulders for balance. I saw a clearing up ahead and this is where Andy was determined to go. The rocks turned to pebbles and we were able to walk with our heads up now. My jaw literally dropped at the sight of an icredible view, he had led me to the top of a mountain. There was a huge stone platform where we eagerly climbed up and looked across the sky. We could see for miles, the clouds seemed reachable and the air was unseasonably warm. Andy layed down on the platform, places his hands under his head and looked up into the sky. I copied his pose and lay next to him, he urged me to sing twinkle twinkle little star which was completely appropriatechoice although it wasn't nightime, I was impressed. The sun was hot and we were both sweaty, I felt very whole and alive. Andy rose and reached down to take my hands and help me get up. I asked him if he wanted to dance and he happily suggested the hokey pokey. We jumped and sang as loud as we could, he was laughing and I wanted to cry. His complete happiness mixed with the most perfect day was very emotional for me. After a good hour of prancing ontop of this mountain we jumped off the platform together and I followed my guide back into the thick colorful woods.

#7 Looking for Truth

My memoir is about centering and focusing on what is most important in my life, the elimination of outside people and factors that affect me negatively and inhibit my performance. My story is somewhat unique because the main focus essentially takes place over the course of one hour, a single hour during my summer. All the details I included are true to a ‘T’ and I think I should add even more details just so I can convey the big impact this experience had on me. The details support my focus of finding myself, but I need to elaborate even further.

My story is told sequentially, but I do not mention specific time differences. I begin with my arrival at camp, then skim over a few days, and then end on my experience that took place a week into the session. I believe it is easy to follow, I do mention just enough time frames for my reader to understand. I included minimal dialogue, most of which is between myself and a child who is non-verbal. Working with children who do not communicate through verbal language makes it easier for me to re-call ‘conversations,’ because I can vividly remember what I said to him. A major part of my memoir is when Alex speaks to me through sign language, which a completely valid type of communication and I can re-call exactly what signs he used because it was such a great moment.

I think I need to include more of my experience or compassion for working with kids with autism in the beginning of my story, otherwise my audience doesn’t know how much I truly care. As in all of my writing I want to be honest and tell the complete truth, this is a story about how I was not proud of myself. I let a man get in the way of my life, my work, my thoughts which I am very ashamed of. But I need to be honest about how I let myself down and more importantly how this experience made me pick myself back up.

I hope that I do not come off as the heart broken girl who feels sorry for herself. I want to focus more on Alex and my time spent with him instead of Yogev, the man I was love sick for. In order for my story to be ‘felt’ by others I need to include more imagery and describe the weather, woods, field, exactly how that summer day felt in humid upstate NY. In my head the scenery played a major role in my experience, but I barely touched upon it so far.

#6 memoir draft

I wait all year for this day to come and now that its here I am bursting with excitement, but my nerves are making me uneasy. Ramapo for Children has been my summer home since 2005, the most special place in my heart. Inspiring children, Enriching lives is our slogan. Ramapo is a sleepaway camp for children and teens with emotional, behavior, at-risk, and autism spectrum disorders. It is also the most intense and humbling experience I have ever been apart of. Now I’m back, I always enter during training week about 5 days late due to summer school. This makes it somewhat more difficult because I miss out on the initial bonding between the new and old staff members.

Here I am, back again in beautiful upstate New York and I can’t even get out of the car. I have been dreaming of seeing him again, is he really back? Yogev- the most handsome and elusive man I have ever had the privilege to call mine; well he was mine, but briefly. The summer of 2006 was our summer. I walked down the trail looking for my new group of co-workers who would be my family for the next 9 weeks. They were sitting on the benches of bunks 17 and 18, I hate walking into groups expecially when everyone was silent. I climbed the steps and coyly waved hello, once I was noticed huge hugs and hellos were exchanged. My friend Dan and now boss [so weird!] squeezed me tightly and said “Everyone this is Jessie, she is amazing. Please get to know her, its worth your while. I guarantee you will learn the most from this girl right here.”

I smiled brightly and felt a bit more at ease, but where is he?! He wasn’t there; maybe this is good because I do not know what to say to him or even how to look at him. It has been a year since we spoke, Israel and New Jersey is quite a distance. Oh god, that familiar scent- his cologne mixed with cigarettes, that is Yogev’s signature smell. His dark arms spun me around before I could react, he held my face and kissed my cheek. I was shaking, I’ve waited so long for this moment I wanted it to be perfect. I imagined we would run down the trail together laughing and holding hands, the way it used to be. Sadly couldn’t have been more wrong. Barely making eye contact, he quickly walked to the other side of the deck and obviously pretended to be busy. This set the tone for summer 2007 ‘the best summer ever’ AKA the summer I learned to let go.

Our campers arrived on a Monday and I thought that he would have to speak to me, even if it was just work related. I was wrong again. Yogev acted as if I were invisible, he had others send messages to me even simple ones such as “Arts and crafts is being switched with basketball today.” What is his problem? What did I do? I became so self conscious, did I change? I started getting up earlier in the mornings just to make sure my completely unruly hair looked somewhat decent. Which was a lost cause because we live outside! Heat + humidity does not equal good looking hair. Since when did I care about stupid things like this? I became so focused on myself and my appearance that I was slipping away from what is most important to me- my campers. I have worked with children and teens with autism since I was 12 years old, this is where I excel and have always felt one hundred percent confidant in my abilities. Sitting in the dining hall I was so fixated on catching his eye that I didn’t even realize that the camper sitting next to me threw up. I need to snap out of it, I have never let a guy cut into me like this.

It was time for the counselor talent show, the whole camp comes together at the meeting grounds while singing and dancing for an hour. Events like these are often a disaster with my bunk, individuals with autism have a difficult time with loud and chaotic settings. I opted to stay out with my camper Alex. Alex is 14 years old, non-verbal, lanky, and easily frightened- which can lead to aggressive behaviors. He acts like a scared animal, always alert and ready to flee any situation that is unfamiliar to him.

I took Alex’s hand and led him to the playground which is a good distance away from the talent show. He was unsure of what was going on and he immediately kicked off his shoes and ran across the soccer field. I wanted him to trust me so badly, I realized I did not have a relationship with this boy and it was already a week into the session. I am the group leader, I live with these boys day in and day out- how do I not know him at all?! I cannot believe I let Yogev busy my head with worries when I am here with a beautiful and intriguing child. Alex’s twiggy and pale legs were sprinting pretty fast now, I called for him and surprisingly he did turn around. Like him, I kicked off my shoes and ran towards him. He waited for me, I took his hand and tried to have him run with me. He let go and stared at me, “Come on Alex lets run this way!” I try to imitate many of my campers behaviors in order to get a reaction from them and have them see that what they are doing is okay [as long as they are being safe.] He followed my lead and we headed for the swing set, I was smiling as big as I could trying to convey to him ‘happy’ and ‘this is fun.’ He smiled back! I was so excited he even began to giggle, this small break gave me a surge of energy.

He happily sat on a swing, looked at me and in sign language said ‘more.’ I almost fell over, I didn’t know he could sign! He signed to me, this is amazing. I eagerly went behind him and pushed him on the swing, then I ran in front. Each time his legs went up to pump I jumped to tickle his toes. He was now laughing hysterically and signing ‘more’ repeatedly. We were feeding off each others energy, and I finally felt centered. This is why I am here, this is why I love Ramapo so much. I do not come here for personal relationships, how dare I let myself get wrapped up in a man who is clearly no good for me. Alex slowed down on the swing, I was so overjoyed and elated that he helped me find myself again that I grabbed him and hugged him tight while saying ‘thank you.’ He was not interested in my over affection, wriggled out of my grasp and took off running across the field. I chased after him, we laughed and formed an unconventional game of tag. Being under the summer sun we were both dripping with sweat, and I never felt better. I grabbed our shoes and we ran down the trail together- hand in hand.

#5 Analysis of personal essay

What is your essay about?
My essay is about the development of a very important relationship in my life. I seem to mention feeling insecure or nervous often which is a natural and raw emotion that most of us cannot help but feel, especially while being around someone we care about.

Who is your audience?
My audience would most likely be readers close to my current age of 22 years old. Many people can enjoy a coming of age love story, but I think it hits closer to the hearts of college aged individuals. My writing will include some flashbacks to high school, so I’m sure younger readers would be able to enjoy and relate. My audience does not have to be limited to those who are or who have been in relationships, but anyone who has found someone special that helps shape who you are.

What is your purpose?
My main purpose is to write for myself, this is my story, my scary and personal story about the love of my life. I have been hesitant in writing about someone I am so close to, because we are not perfect [nobody is of course] but we [Camille and I] are very flawed and not the conventional couple. Are we even a couple? My purpose is to be honest and straightforward. I believe most people will be able to relate to my story, experiencing love and pain, jealousy and anger are typical and natural feelings that accompany a relationship. My writing can be used to relate to the feeling of “I am not alone,” having the comfort that many of us are going through the same thing.

How have you used form to effect your purpose?
I wrote my essay almost like a journal entry, I feel that I flow the best this way. I also use the form of parallelism by alternating the past and present. I am beginning from the present, but sticking in old memories that help give some background and information of my relationship in the years past. I am writing about a relationship that initially started when I was 16 years old, [I am now 22] I have many stories that I would like to tell within the past 6 years.

#3 brainstorming for memoir

My earliest memories are from around 2-3 years old. I remember bits and pieces of time, snapshots of being in my house in Connecticut with my nanny. I feel like she did not watch me that closely because I was always watching her, wondering what she was doing. She watched the movie Dirty Dancing over and over and today I still love the soundtrack. The smell of her cigarettes was soothing to me and to this day when I smell that brand I think of being a little girl. I can still see the tiny yellow car she drove, I used to pick at the peeling paint on the side. I once colored rainbows in chalk on the legs of the dining room chairs. I washed them away with water before she ever noticed.

I was around 5 years old and my parents took me to the eye doctor. There was some concern about the unusual shape of my eye, the inside not exterior. Doctors were concerned that I had childhood glaucoma, which can lead to blindness. They tried to dilate my pupils with eye drops and for some reason this scared me so badly that every time I cried out the medicine, making it impossible for anyone to see my eyes. To this day I cannot jump into a pool or even put my face under the shower without immediately wiping the water away from my eyes. I do not know how to submerge myself in water, pop up, and open my eyes. It is literally impossible and I still cannot put eye drops in, good thing I don’t have allergies.

I have a wonderful and caring family, but a lot of struggles within. I am fortunate to know what I want to do in life, I am going to be a special education teacher. Throughout the years I have worked with some incredible individuals who truly are so important in my life. My best friend and I have worked at a special needs sleep-away camp for the past 3 years, we take care of the teenage boys with autism. Domenic is my other half, my sounding board, my co-worker. We even have matching tattoos to show our love and dedication to each other as well as the teens we have worked with. I have never met a man with his patience and compassion, I truly feel that we were meant to meet and know each other forever. He is me in a different body and I am him.

I am horribly angry with my brother. He was diagnosed with Bipolar disorder when he was 9 years old, which is rare as a child. His anger, rage, and mania throughout the years has pushed my family to their limits. He will be turning 19 in December and for the past two months he has been on a manic roller coaster, taking me and my parents with him. His lack of responsibility or remorse for things he has done wrong makes me sick. His anger and extreme rage is frightening and debilitating, my parents don’t have the energy to fight back anymore. Nobody knows what to do, they come to me for advice and I am at a total loss. Yes I am a special ed major, I have patience, lots of it- but for him I have little to none. He is killing my parents and making them older by the day, I almost feel like I came first they are my parents so stop abusing them. As of right now there is nothing we can do.

Rhinebeck NY, Ramapo for Children aka Ramapo Anchorage Camp is my absolute favorite place in the world. This camp has changed me in every way. With the beautiful scenery, open skies, miles of green, the air feels different. The campers I have worked with are so incredible that I truly believe they are angels sent from above, and I am in no means religious. I pick up on this energy that lifts me up and I am able to pass it along to others. I have met the most amazing people in NY. Anyone who signs up to work at Ramapo is not doing it for money or any type of selfish need, you do if for others. It is a life changing experience when you devote yourself to a greater cause. That may sound so cliché or even pretentious, but it is the only way to truly give in to love. “Live your life with a compassion you can be proud of then let your last breathe fade away with dignity and love.”

My parents love to re-tell how I was such a fearful child. I was scared to walk, my parents knew I could I just refused to. So when I decided to take my first step, I ran, I ran in circles around the room. I was scared of my first tooth falling out, so I let that baby hang out of my mouth until the very last strand broke instead of simply taking it out myself. I was scared to get eye drops in my eyes. I didn’t like anything that could potentially hurt me. I refused to walk on the sand on a beautiful tropical vacation because there were black dots, I thought they were bugs, it was actually seaweed. I was scared to ride a bike, I only decided to learn once I saw my 4 year old brother zooming around the neighborhood on two wheels.

I will be recognized as teacher of the year. I am not one for the spotlight, but I do need my dedication to be recognized. I will have married my high school sweetheart, Camille F. Olivier- making me Mrs. Olivier. I want to work or create my own program for individuals with Autism, most likely in an outside setting. I would want to live in upstate NY or the city, maybe someplace in-between. I want my brother to be stable and my parents to not be old. I want respect and to be confidant in myself. I will never let Domenic be alone, I want him to find his love. I want us to go to Israel together and spend as much time there as we want. I want to make break throughs and work with teenagers, teaching life skills.

revised draft.

I look prettier with my hair down, but I always wear it up, if I show up with it down it will look like I’m trying too hard. Should I wear the same outfit I wore to school? Attempt to make it appear that I didn’t put too much thought into this date? Is this a date? Oh my god I’m going on my first real date! I can’t lie ever since I got home I’ve been playing dress up with my wardrobe and counting the minutes until it was time to go. My dad drove me to the movie theatre and I crossed my fingers just hoping he would be there before I was. We didn’t have cell phones when we were sixteen so I had to take his word for a meeting time and place. Dad pulled up and I smiled with relief to see Camille standing there waiting for me patiently. We saw the movie “Joyride” I have almost no recollection of what the movie is about or who is in it, I just remember him preparing me for the “scary parts.” The movie was less than thrilling so I found it funny that he was looking for an excuse to hold my hand or lean in close to me.

My memory jumps to nervously standing in the Morristown green and saying our goodbyes. Camille is a grade older than me, is in a band, and has a mohawk…which all put together meant my dream boy. I was shocked that this cool older guy wanted to take me out, I’ve always been on the quieter side- how did he even notice me? With his hands in his pockets he leaned into me and we kissed. We both took a step back and went our separate ways- quickly, both too nervous to say anything more. To my surprise a group of my friends were on the other side of the park, they wanted details, but I’ve always kept details of boys to myself. There was Ryan, sitting on his BMX bike and smiling at me. We’ve had a mutual crush on each other for a couple weeks now. I could still see Camille walking down South Street, I pretended that I couldn’t and I left with Ryan. This was just the beginning of running off with boys who were easy, who were funny, who didn’t challenge me in any way.




The question of the day was “Are you going to see Trophy Scars and The Prime play tonight?” Who did these kids think they were talking to? Of course I was going, I am The Prime’s biggest fan AKA Camille’s biggest fan. My best girlfriends and I adoringly referred to ourselves as the bands best ‘groupies,’ but not the bimbo/attention seeking type. We were so proud that our friends, our best guy friends had made a name for themselves outside of Morristown. They were The Prime from New Jersey; Camille couldn’t go to the mall without being recognized or see teens wearing their logo. Nickie picked me up from my house in her new 2003 two door silver Saturn, it was a big change from her Jeep. For some reason we felt like rockstars in her brand new car, we rolled down the windows and let the summer air pull our hair in every direction. Just graduating high school brought on feelings of maturity mixed with recklessness. Nickie flew down 287 while we both sang along with Saves the Day on the top of our lungs “and please if you’ve got a minute, enjoy this lonely sky with me. It will swallow us whole- if we only let it!”

We pulled up to Bloomfield Ave Café in Montclair and squeezed into the first parking spot we saw, we were already late. It wasn’t Nickie’s fault, I am always late, and especially when I knew I would be seeing Camille. We already had purchase tickets in advance, so we through them on the merch girls table and ran inside. The Prime had already started performing; Camille as usual was sitting behind his drum set furiously pounding away. I pushed my way to the front making it known that was my position. After the first song James the singer talked to the crowd about buying their CD, I took the opportunity to grab Camille’s attention. I pointed my wrist and he nodded, I went to the side of the stage and quickly climbed up. I took of my navy wristband with the red heart and handed it to Camille, he slipped it onto his wrist and resumed drumming. This was our tradition, not sure how it started- but before every performance I
would lend him my wristband. He liked to think of it as a modified ‘wearing your heart on your sleeve’ type concept.

Nickie and I danced around the floor, and rocked out to our favorite band. The last song came to an end and James began to thank the audience for coming, but Camille started hitting his drums some more. The band took his lead and they played one more song, my favorite song “Sweeter Than Sweet.” James was not too fond of this song, but Camille knew I loved it, this silent dedication to me made me feel like a queen. I helped break down his drum set while Trophy Scars took the stage, we rarely had the opportunity to watch bands perform from the floor. We pushed the drums to the side, decided to worry about it later and let ourselves get lost in the crowd. Camille took my hand and looked into my eyes, we both had the dreamy “young and in love” expression across our faces. He told me I was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and coming from him- I believed it. A month later I left to go to college in CT and he went to school in Philly, I didn’t know what to say to him. He did, he always knows what to say:
August 22, 2003 “Thoughts on the future are, well, the future is easy because it doesn't exist, but the past is hard because it lasts forever."



My brother wasn’t allowed on the plane because his passport expired, even thought the agent my mother spoke to the day before said “It’s no big deal, as long as you get a new one in the next 2 months.” Our family vacation plans changed very quickly, my mom is always on her toes and if things can’t be done her way- well she will find a way. “Jess is there somewhere in the U.S. you have wanted to go?” It didn’t take me long to blurt out California! I had promised Camille that I would go out there and see him, as long as he still considered NJ his home. The thought of CA always made me kind of sick, Los Angeles seems like a horrible place to be. Silicon women, no imperfections, moneymoneymoney. I am very confidant in my character, who I am and what I stand for. But I’m only human, and its tough being a girl and not feel ‘less than’ in the constant and silent competition sometimes. I knew that if I had Camille by my side he would make me feel like the most precious being not just in LA but in the world, he always has.

I arrived in San Diego prepared for ‘family vacation,’ of course I immediately turned my phone on and called Camille. A couple hours later I was [once again] in the car with my dad on my way to the train station. I was so anxious and nervous, having not seen him in months- naturally I was running very late. I had to run into the station, buy my ticket and bolt it to the train. My heart was pounding while I fell into a seat, I barely made it. I took out a box of makeup and began a cycle of painting and then washing my face. I wanted to look perfect, but not too perfect- he says he prefers me with no makeup, but that’s just what boys say. I ended up here I began with my classic look of lined eyes and pouty lips. I sent him a text message asking him to be there to pick me up on time because I’m unfamiliar with LA and honestly scared of that city. I stepped out of the station, took a quick glance at the cars waiting and thank God, there he was, being harassed by a woman telling him that he isn’t allowed to park in a loading zone. I jumped into his car, he took off and the woman scribbled his license plate number on her pad of paper. I bounced in the passenger seat while hugging him, trying not to distract his driving. We were so happy, both with that familiar dreamy look on our faces.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of him, I studied his face, his new tattoos, and the familiar ones. He has a purple lotus flower on his neck, I knew it was his first, but couldn’t remember why he got it. “Why did you get the flower again?” He looked at me, shocked that I didn’t know, he said it was for me. I didn’t understand because the scroll in the middle of it says “The beginning of the end,” a saying that I relate with negativity. Of course I was wrong, he meant that I was his first true love and no matter who came between us, he knew in the end it would be him and I.

essay not coming along too well.

I'm having a really hard time with this essay. I have tried 3 different openings and settings and they all turn out so boring. I'm not even sure I want to write about him anymore, it is sounding so dull. I guess I will post the 3 anyway, I am nowhere near finished or even started for that matter. I'm thinking of changing my subject because this is not working out how I had planned.

I look prettier with my hair down, but I always wear it up, if I show up with it down it will look like I’m trying too hard. Should I wear the same outfit I wore to school? Attempt to make it appear that I didn’t put too much thought into this date? Is this a date? Oh my god I’m going on my first real date! I can’t lie ever since I got home I’ve been playing dress up with my wardrobe and counting the minutes until it was time to go. My dad drove me to the movie theatre and I crossed my fingers just hoping he would be there before I was. We didn’t have cell phones when we were sixteen so I had to take his word for a meeting time and place. Dad pulled up and I smiled with relief to see Camille standing there waiting for me patiently. We saw the movie “Joyride” I have almost no recollection of what the movie is about or who is in it, I just remember him preparing me for the “scary parts.” The movie was less than thrilling so I found it funny that he was looking for an excuse to hold my hand or lean in close to me. My memory jumps to nervously standing in the Morristown green and saying our goodbyes. Camille is a grade older than me, is in a band, and has a mohawk…which all put together meant my dream boy. I was shocked that this cool older guy wanted to take me out, I’ve always been on the quieter side- how did he even notice me? With his hands in his pockets he leaned into me and we kissed. We both took a step back and went our separate ways- quickly, both too nervous to say anything more. To my surprise a group of my friends were on the other side of the park, they wanted details, but I’ve always kept details of boys to myself. There was Ryan, sitting on his BMX bike and smiling at me. We’ve had a mutual crush on each other for a couple weeks now. I could still see Camille walking down South Street, I pretended that I couldn’t and I left with Ryan.

“Oh my God, was that Jackie’s car? I think it was, I bet she saw me. Jess everyone knows your car, she is going to kill me.” I was missing my best friend Jamie who lives in Albany, NY so I planned a last minute roadtrip to go see him. I asked Camille to come along with me, didn’t think his girlfriend would let him off the leash for a moment. I hate that he has to lie to her in order to see me. Whatever Jackie is not my problem, I sort of hoped that she would catch him- then I could have him all to myself. Once we got on the NY State Throughway he relaxed and we were able to be ourselves, laughing/crying because the a/c in my car spits the air directly into your eyes, no matter where you point the vents.

My brother wasn’t allowed on the plane because his passport expired, even thought the agent my mother spoke to the day before said “It’s no big deal, as long as you get a new one in the next 2 months.” Our family vacation plans changed very quickly, my mom is always on her toes and if things can’t be done her way- well she will find a way. “Jess is there somewhere in the U.S. you have wanted to go?” It didn’t take me long to blurt out California! I had promised Camille that I would go out there and see him, as long as he still considered NJ his home. The thought of CA always made me kind of sick, Los Angeles seems like a horrible place to be. Silicon women, no imperfections, moneymoneymoney. I am very confidant in my character, who I am and what I stand for. But I’m only human, and its tough being a girl and not feel ‘less than’ in the constant and silent competition sometimes. I knew that if I had Camille by my side he would make me feel like the most precious being not just in LA but in the world, he always has.

#2 My Father Always Said by Mimi Schwartz

1. "But everybody's going. It was the wrong argument to make to a man who fled Hitler's Germany because of everybody." (269)

Schwartz's father wanted to raise his daughters with the option to make their own decisions, stand up for themselves if the crowd seemed to be following the wrong path. He wanted them to do so, but within his moral code. Be the stronger person, don't do something just because everyone else is- the typical battle every family with teenagers goes through. Her father brought her to his home town in hopes to raise awareness of the world and to prove that outside of Queens real-life scary events can happen.

2. The essay is told by Schwartz both as a young teenage girl and as a grown woman. Schwarzwald translates to Black Forest [Germany], which bears a strong resemblance to Forest Hills [Queens]; one that she cannot see just yet. When Schwartz flashes forward to re-visiting her father's hometown it shows that she holds an interest in his past- which in the bigger picture is her past as well. She was too young and nieve to fully appreciate her Germany trip as a teen. It appears that as she grew older, she matured and her interest in her family's past became very important to her.

3. Schwartz's interest is growing, her father's stories and experiences in Germany are becoming more real to her. He gives a brief explanation of Kristallnacht and she urges him to continue the story, she is interested in knowing more. She wants to understand why her mother doesn't want to be seen outside of the Temple or why her father won't even enter the Temple.

4. She is making more connections and parallels between her own life and her father's childhood.
"This was his school, he said, and it looked like mine, but P.S. 3 has a paved playground and good swings. This just had dirt." (273) She is asking more questions out of curiosity, thinking it was strange for school children to be seperated according to religion and not age. She is now seeing that events in her father's childhood were not fair, its hard for her to imagine. She wants to hear more from her mother, hear the happy times that her parents spent together while dating in a small town. While her parents open up and share their stories she is opening herself by genuinely listening.

5. The graveyard scene holds close to her heart, her memory of the weather, light, and feel of the cemetary is vivid. She makes it known that she was taking everything in. More and more connections are made, placing rocks on the graves reveals her growing curiosity and sensitivity. Looking at the children's graves reminded her of a sister that passed away before she was born. The reality of death was unsetteling and it made her uncomfortable.

6. Forty years later she is still interested in her father's past and his home in Germany, as an adult she seeks out the true and disturbing facts. Her father returned from their Rindheim trip, realizing where he came from was not as perfect as he had remembered. He was happy to have his family in America and understood the opportunity his girls had, opportunities that he did not have at their age. He embraced NY as his home and knew his family was lucky to be there.

Schwartz recounts her trip to Germany as a teen and interjects moments from her adulthood. Many teenagers are too self centered to realize the hardships in life or their parents lives. Her trip helps to make her father's stories of Rindheim tangible. She opened herself up and made many valuable connections to her life and her fathers. But it is in her adultlife that she is able to come full circle and relate to her father on a more intimate level. One point of this essay is to never take your opportunities for granted. Schwartz realizes she was lucky to grow up in NY with a family that kept her safe. As a child its hard to imagine your life any differently, as a teen on her Germany trip she sees that life could have been very different for her and as an adult she fits all the pieces together.

#1 design plan

My audience would most likely be readers close to my current age of 22 years old. Many people can enjoy a coming of age love story, but I think it hits closer to the hearts of college aged individuals. My writing will include some flashbacks to high school, so I’m sure younger readers would be able to enjoy and relate. My favorite author is Sylvia Plath and I have found in the past that my writing is similar to hers in that it tends to be raw, but delicate at the same time. It is important to tell the complete truth in writing about personal stories, even if it hurts or is somewhat embarrassing, that is what makes my writing real reliable and personable.

My main purpose is to write for myself, this is my story, my scary and personal story about the love of my life. I have been hesitant in writing about someone I am so close to, because we are not perfect [nobody is of course] but we [Camille and I] are very flawed and not the conventional couple. Are we even a couple? My purpose is to be honest and straightforward. I believe most people will be able to relate to my story, experiencing love and pain, jealousy and anger are typical and natural feelings that accompany a relationship. My writing can be used to relate to the feeling of “I am not alone,” having the comfort that many of us are going through the same thing.

I want my essay to resonate with familiarity and comfort in my readers minds. Even if my readers have never been in a relationship it will be relatable because it is filled with typical feelings. There aren’t any tricks or catches to my essay, it’s my view in the journey of a relationship.

I am currently writing my essay in journal form, I feel that I flow the best this way. I will also be using the form of parallelism by alternating the past and present. I am beginning from the present, but sticking in old memories that help give some background and information of my relationship in the years past. I am writing about a relationship that initially started when I was 16 years old, [I am now 22] I have many stories that I would like to tell within the past 6 years.

Besides having my target audience and age group reading my essay, I would like my friends to read it. Since they know me and the person I am writing about, they have the ability to be honest and directly relate to my essay. I do not want this to be a typical “I’m so in love, look at me!” type story, instead a coming of age and maturation ‘journey.’

I am having a difficult time pin-pointing exactly what I'm writing about, my topic is too broad. I am thinking of narrowing in on a recent vacation I took to LA. The trip tyed many loose ends together and inspired me to write this essay.