Melissa Shaw
Prof. Quinlan
December 10, 2008
Blogging 101/ ENG 330-60
When I came into this class and was confronted with the word blog, I was lost. All I could think about was Rosie O’Donnell and how she would go on and on about her blog in her idiotic talk shows. Once Professor Quinlan mentioned that a good portion of our grade would come about from our blog, I thought to myself…you have no choice but to go into blog mode.
So that night, I sat in front of my computer looking aimlessly at blogs trying to get some insight. Suddenly, I had an epiphany; I had been participating (well kind of) in a blog all along. A beloved friend of mine, Aaron, had/has a blog that depicts his life story. I’ve frequented the site, but thought of it as nothing more than a journal/ coping mechanism (for his mom).
Anyway, at this point, I was completely gung-ho about blogging. Once I set up my account and posted my first post, it became addicting. Blog can be as addicting as myspace or facebook, especially when you go out of your way to make a blog that you don’t have a professor looking over. (Trust me, I made another blog where I didn’t have to watch my punctuation and/or grammar.)
In any event, once I started, I couldn’t stop. I found myself incorporating videos on the side of my blog, but I don’t really know if anyone looked at them. One thing I have to say about blogging is I would have appreciated any comments; even comments that had nothing to do with what I wrote about would have been fine.
I really enjoy the fact that a blog can be a point of communication. Ideally you could have a great writing class that just took place via the internet using a blog. (Of course with a few classes in person that discuss setting up a blog.)
On the other hand, the class itself was quiet interesting. The tactics used for the development of writing were very encouraging and in the end produced pieces that I know, I would never be comfortable writing on my own. I can remember our hitch hiker exercise and how it produced something that I know I would never write in my life.
Also, we wrote a short piece about being invited to a party by someone whom we weren’t fond of. That triggered a piece that I found to be unbelievable. In this instance, I wrote about my neighbor, whom I am convinced is a child molester. It was creepy. I wrote things down that I never thought I’d ever imagine. I guess I let my mind go wild. It was like I was a writer for Law & Order; thinking of those disgusting things.
One of the most useful things I gained from this class was workshopping. I wrote one story in particular, a haunting/possession story that I was in no way comfortable with. The feedback I received back was so well thought out and all taken into consideration when I did my edit and extension. In the development of this story my one tactic was to make the story come full circle, and incorporate all the aspects that my classmates stated I include.
All in all, the development of this class was one that was extremely thought out, especially by incorporating the technology of today. Professor Quinlan did an excellent job by incorporating blogging into the class, because believe it or not, we are all now published writer; published blog writers. If this isn’t a stepping stone into our future of writing, I don’t know what is.
The only downside I found was some people slacking on the blogging aspect of class. I found it hard at times to comment on peoples pages because either they hadn’t blogged in a month or the topics written about were just random.
In any event, the good outweighed the bad and I could never shame this class because it was always inspiring. I can remember the readings of my other classmate’s stories and how they wrote about obsessions with things that come in threes, aliens taking over, and the loss of an extremely expensive pair of shoes. All of the things my peers brought to the table will always remain with me.
Through it all, we shared many laughs, perhaps a few tears, and some moments that were just too serious for any emotion. It is truly amazing how writing affects people and the emotions it causes. Who would think that in one story you would worry about a man out running a militia, laugh at him losing his expensive shoes, and share the feeling of concern with his father?
I would like to end on a light note. At the end of the day, when we look back at our class…we can always look to our good ‘ol Irish (I really mean Scots) man, to read us in his manly brogue the life of the Dubliners, no matter how gitty and drunk those Irish get. As a final note, I could not be any happier with my last class as an undergraduate, it was truly a course worth taking. AMEN!
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Signed: Your Secret Admirer
These are 10 writers I admire:
1. Stephenie Meyer
www.stepheniemeyer.com
I'm sure you've all heard about her by now. TWILIGHT! Anyway, she's amazing! She is the only and will be the only vampire book I ever read in my life.
2. Maria Shriver (aka Mrs. Schwarzenegger)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maria_Shriver
Needless to say, she only really has a website about acting or politics, but she does write books. Books on subjects you probably have a difficult time discussing with children. Anyway, she does an awesome job, and I use her books all the time.
3. God
http://english.sdaglobal.org/question/author.htm
He doesn't have a website, but he wrote this really awesome book called The Bible and I find it very helpful. Especially when you're writing a paper that incorporate religions and you need some good quotes. Also, it can set you on a spiritual journey...if you're at that point in your life.
4. Dave Pelzer
http://www.davepelzer.com/
Holy smokes! If you think you have it rough, take a moment to read Dave Pelzer's book, A Child Called It, it will simply amaze you. He is a great author that depicts the most vulnerable moments of a child's life, his own.
5. Shel Silverstein
http://www.shelsilverstein.com/indexSite.html
Needless to say, since I was a kid I wanted to be this man. He ways of writing poetry, that made it seem so much fun. It was because of this man that I've grown appreciation for rhyme and rhythm.
6. Marilyn Sachs
http://www.marilynsachs.com/
Well, let's just say this past summer, I decided I needed to read something, anything...cover to cover...and I didn't want it to be difficult. I picked up Marilyn Sachs' book The Fat Girl I was drawn in and finished the book in 2 days. I felt a connection with the character in the beginning...but really want the change that occured to the main character in the book (in time that change will come...I suppose). Anyway, I like the way she writes....don't mind that she's a young adult writer...she's still good.
7. Lois Lowry
http://www.loislowry.com/
I'm sure we've all either read The Giver or Number the Stars written by this author. Well, if you haven't, you really need to read one. Not only are they both a journey, but they are a way of learning.
8. C.S. Lewis
http://www.cslewis.org/
C.S. Lewis wrote stories that bring light to biblical stories. Not only does he journey to the other side of a wardrobe, but he takes you off to distant lands that seems almost unimaginable.
9. Edgar Allan Poe
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edgar_Allan_Poe
Never did I think I'd actually hear the beating of a heart through poetry...but this amazing poet did exactly that. I've never been so frightened as I was when I read Poe's The Tell Tale Heart. If you haven't read him...and you're an English major...you should go online...look him up...and read read away!!!!! I'm talking about NOW....right NOW!
10. Walt Whitman
http://www.whitmanarchive.org/
This man wrote one of the most intriguing poems about war, it's entitled O Captain My Captain. If you're interested in any history....read this poem and see if you can see who Whitman is talking about. Good luck!
1. Stephenie Meyer
www.stepheniemeyer.com
I'm sure you've all heard about her by now. TWILIGHT! Anyway, she's amazing! She is the only and will be the only vampire book I ever read in my life.
2. Maria Shriver (aka Mrs. Schwarzenegger)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maria_Shriver
Needless to say, she only really has a website about acting or politics, but she does write books. Books on subjects you probably have a difficult time discussing with children. Anyway, she does an awesome job, and I use her books all the time.
3. God
http://english.sdaglobal.org/question/author.htm
He doesn't have a website, but he wrote this really awesome book called The Bible and I find it very helpful. Especially when you're writing a paper that incorporate religions and you need some good quotes. Also, it can set you on a spiritual journey...if you're at that point in your life.
4. Dave Pelzer
http://www.davepelzer.com/
Holy smokes! If you think you have it rough, take a moment to read Dave Pelzer's book, A Child Called It, it will simply amaze you. He is a great author that depicts the most vulnerable moments of a child's life, his own.
5. Shel Silverstein
http://www.shelsilverstein.com/indexSite.html
Needless to say, since I was a kid I wanted to be this man. He ways of writing poetry, that made it seem so much fun. It was because of this man that I've grown appreciation for rhyme and rhythm.
6. Marilyn Sachs
http://www.marilynsachs.com/
Well, let's just say this past summer, I decided I needed to read something, anything...cover to cover...and I didn't want it to be difficult. I picked up Marilyn Sachs' book The Fat Girl I was drawn in and finished the book in 2 days. I felt a connection with the character in the beginning...but really want the change that occured to the main character in the book (in time that change will come...I suppose). Anyway, I like the way she writes....don't mind that she's a young adult writer...she's still good.
7. Lois Lowry
http://www.loislowry.com/
I'm sure we've all either read The Giver or Number the Stars written by this author. Well, if you haven't, you really need to read one. Not only are they both a journey, but they are a way of learning.
8. C.S. Lewis
http://www.cslewis.org/
C.S. Lewis wrote stories that bring light to biblical stories. Not only does he journey to the other side of a wardrobe, but he takes you off to distant lands that seems almost unimaginable.
9. Edgar Allan Poe
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edgar_Allan_Poe
Never did I think I'd actually hear the beating of a heart through poetry...but this amazing poet did exactly that. I've never been so frightened as I was when I read Poe's The Tell Tale Heart. If you haven't read him...and you're an English major...you should go online...look him up...and read read away!!!!! I'm talking about NOW....right NOW!
10. Walt Whitman
http://www.whitmanarchive.org/
This man wrote one of the most intriguing poems about war, it's entitled O Captain My Captain. If you're interested in any history....read this poem and see if you can see who Whitman is talking about. Good luck!
Readings= Drivining= Gas= Money....to say the least...it costs money...I don't have!
Needless to say, when it comes to readings, I just can't afford it. When it comes to any reading that interests me...it's a distance away from where I am.
Let's put it this way, I live in Sussex County and all of these "Readings" take place in either...Clifton, Paramus, or NYC, and let's face it I barely have enough money to make it to William Paterson. I could go to readings up here, but they are all by authors of children's books. While I'm sure those readings are fun and filled with excitement, I just find they don't suite my age.
Since, I am an aspiring teacher and work at a school, I have met several authors, such as Dan Gutman. The authors I have met write books geared towards elementary school children, so I don't think that counts for anything. I can tell you one thing, and that is that these children authors I've met have inspired me.
Dan Gutman decided to write books on a plethora of sports because when he was a child there weren't any books on sports...and so this has inspired me to try to "dumb down" some books for students who have special needs. I feel that by keeping the cover of the book and the general content the same, those with special needs won't feel the separation between them and the general education population.
On the other hand, I hope to one day, when I have the time and money, to go to a reading and truly enjoy all that it has to offer. As for where I am right now with finances and everything, I don't think that will happen for a while, but someday.
Let's put it this way, I live in Sussex County and all of these "Readings" take place in either...Clifton, Paramus, or NYC, and let's face it I barely have enough money to make it to William Paterson. I could go to readings up here, but they are all by authors of children's books. While I'm sure those readings are fun and filled with excitement, I just find they don't suite my age.
Since, I am an aspiring teacher and work at a school, I have met several authors, such as Dan Gutman. The authors I have met write books geared towards elementary school children, so I don't think that counts for anything. I can tell you one thing, and that is that these children authors I've met have inspired me.
Dan Gutman decided to write books on a plethora of sports because when he was a child there weren't any books on sports...and so this has inspired me to try to "dumb down" some books for students who have special needs. I feel that by keeping the cover of the book and the general content the same, those with special needs won't feel the separation between them and the general education population.
On the other hand, I hope to one day, when I have the time and money, to go to a reading and truly enjoy all that it has to offer. As for where I am right now with finances and everything, I don't think that will happen for a while, but someday.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Holy 10 pages!
I finally finished my ten pages! Well, I finished them Wednesday night...and I'm posting a bit late...but I can say that I'm happy with how my story went. I know there will be alot of edits to make. (As I hadn't edited it more than once). One thing I'm struggling with and really need to work on as a writer is tenses. I just can't get it because my mind is moving so quickly and my hands aren't keeping up so I just keep writing because I don't want my thoughts to escape me. Anyway....I'll email it to someone if they care to read my finished document...I just don't want to post it because it's so long.
Well, that's all for now....
Well, that's all for now....
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
4 pg.s edited since the workshop...soon to be 10 pgs
And so the Lion Fell in Love With the Lamb
There was something about her, something that caught my eye. She stood there with a gazed look in her eye, her long brown hair draping her shoulders. It was as if she was a porcelain doll that had come to life.
I stood there mesmerized by her beauty. A beauty so overwhelming that it is hard to capture in words. Every curve of her body was caressed by the red silk dress she wore and her blue eyes were like pure crystal that they glistened across the room. There was no way that I could approach her. My body trembled with the fear of rejection. I tried to stand as close to her as I possible just to hear her soft spoken voice, but the noise that filled the room was unbearable.
There I stood next to the most beautiful sight I had ever seen, unable to speak a word, or to hear anything because of the utter chaos that was going on in the room around me. The room was dark, with tapestry covering the grey stone walls, and I could barely see the crimson drapes that hung on the window in front of me. I felt like a bee in a swarm of people as we all gathered (nearly forty of us) to hear the mysterious tale of the building we’d be exploring. The more and more I paid attention the further this beautiful girl slipped away from me.
One moment, she stood next to me, the next she was down the hall disappearing into the darkness. I felt so alone and helpless without having her near me. It was as if I were an infant and my mother left me on the front step of a church crying hysterically. I tried to push my way through the crowd of people, but the closer I got to her the more her presence faded.
Suddenly, my heart began racing. From one beat to the next I could feel my heart slowly sink to the pit of my stomach. The girl whom I was falling for had slipped from my hands, and my soul felt like a barren desert wasteland. It felt like I was punched in the stomach in more ways than one, like a force was holding me back from her.
The more I tried to move down the never-ending hallway the harsher the pain had gotten. I thought to myself, "Is this girl worth all the pain I am enduring?" The pain got more intense, it felt as if some outside force had gone into my abdomen and twisted my intestines. I could feel myself being ripped apart from the inside out as I fell on to the floor. There was something…something terribly wrong.
I could feel someone or something slowly whisper in my ear that everything would be okay. I looked around me and there was no one. There was no longer anyone surrounding me. I was left alone only to see the gargoyles that cascaded the walls staring blankly at me.
I could not take my hand from my stomach; the pain was so unbearable. I looked down because I felt dampness, as I lifted my hand it was saturated in blood. I could not stop myself from thinking "Oh my God! I'm dying…I'm going to die here alone."
The more I thought about the girl I had fallen in love with the more the blood came protruding out of my abdomen. I didn't know what to do. I slowly began to rise from the floor, trying to make my way down the hall and some force from behind me pushed me forward . It was like being hit by a sixteen wheeler from behind.
As I flew forward all I could see was darkness and images of my life floating before me; images of the bitter emptiness I had felt for years. The pain I went through with my dead-beat drunken father beating me day in and day out. The prostitute of a mother that I had, that misguided my understanding of respect for females. Then finally images of the girl I had laid eyes upon; the girl who would take away my worries and pain.
With these scattered images floating about and being shoved forward, I came to a halt, and what lay ahead of me was the most horrific thing I had ever seen in my life. My dream girl, the one with whom I had laid eyes upon a few moments prior was being mutalated before my eyes. She was cut with a razor sharp blade several times leaving the markings of a hex across her chest. I looked around searching to fight off this person, only to see that no one was there. With every look at my loves unresponsive body the more enraged I got.
As I reached my hand forward to caress her face and kiss her soft lips I noticed that my hands were now covered in blood. What had happened? God, did I do something wrong? All of the sudden I felt my chest pull outward and felt my soul soar above my body. My soul and body were now separate. My conscious mind was now peering down at my body which appeared to be in an erect comatose state. As I looked down toward my body I heard myself say "Dies Irae." I had no clue what this meant, but I could tell you it was Latin. I felt my soul soar as if it were trying to defeat the demon that had now possessed my body.
I saw my now possessed body move quickly down the darkened hallway. The only things to provide light to the hallway were the candelabra's. My eyes were glaring with rage as my body got closer and closer to the people who were initially surrounding me. My demon possessed body entered the pipe organ room at the end of the hallway. The room painted in the palest of white and the wooden floor creaked as you walked across it. My body had made itself known. "My name is Lived" he said sternly. All the chatter that was going about in the room ceased.
People were now trembling at the sight of my demon possessed body. It was as if they knew something was going on. They knew that something terrible was going to come out of this. The porcelain white walls had suddenly become blood stained as blood came trickling out of each crack. "Lived" lifted his hands and pronounced "Dies Irae" again.
Each person in the room looked blankly at one another in shock, they could not believe what was happening. Someone whispered…"Does anyone know what he is saying?" Slowly the whisper was passed around the room, and the whisper came to a halt when Father George yelled out "He's saying The Day of Wrath. He's speaking Latin." The room hushed as "Lived" began speaking in tongues. His eyes drawn outward from his face as if they were to pierce every human soul in the room, the walls began to shake, and people began running toward any outlet they could find.
"God, help us!" they all screamed as they were running away. You could hear the whispered prayers of people as they began to flee the area of "Lived", but as soon as they began their prayers the voices were silenced. "Lived" had taken the power of verbal prayer away from them. The room was filled with the sound of stomping feet, like a heard of wild animals fleeing a predator. Then it came to a stop, all those who were running fell to the ground.
There was something about her, something that caught my eye. She stood there with a gazed look in her eye, her long brown hair draping her shoulders. It was as if she was a porcelain doll that had come to life.
I stood there mesmerized by her beauty. A beauty so overwhelming that it is hard to capture in words. Every curve of her body was caressed by the red silk dress she wore and her blue eyes were like pure crystal that they glistened across the room. There was no way that I could approach her. My body trembled with the fear of rejection. I tried to stand as close to her as I possible just to hear her soft spoken voice, but the noise that filled the room was unbearable.
There I stood next to the most beautiful sight I had ever seen, unable to speak a word, or to hear anything because of the utter chaos that was going on in the room around me. The room was dark, with tapestry covering the grey stone walls, and I could barely see the crimson drapes that hung on the window in front of me. I felt like a bee in a swarm of people as we all gathered (nearly forty of us) to hear the mysterious tale of the building we’d be exploring. The more and more I paid attention the further this beautiful girl slipped away from me.
One moment, she stood next to me, the next she was down the hall disappearing into the darkness. I felt so alone and helpless without having her near me. It was as if I were an infant and my mother left me on the front step of a church crying hysterically. I tried to push my way through the crowd of people, but the closer I got to her the more her presence faded.
Suddenly, my heart began racing. From one beat to the next I could feel my heart slowly sink to the pit of my stomach. The girl whom I was falling for had slipped from my hands, and my soul felt like a barren desert wasteland. It felt like I was punched in the stomach in more ways than one, like a force was holding me back from her.
The more I tried to move down the never-ending hallway the harsher the pain had gotten. I thought to myself, "Is this girl worth all the pain I am enduring?" The pain got more intense, it felt as if some outside force had gone into my abdomen and twisted my intestines. I could feel myself being ripped apart from the inside out as I fell on to the floor. There was something…something terribly wrong.
I could feel someone or something slowly whisper in my ear that everything would be okay. I looked around me and there was no one. There was no longer anyone surrounding me. I was left alone only to see the gargoyles that cascaded the walls staring blankly at me.
I could not take my hand from my stomach; the pain was so unbearable. I looked down because I felt dampness, as I lifted my hand it was saturated in blood. I could not stop myself from thinking "Oh my God! I'm dying…I'm going to die here alone."
The more I thought about the girl I had fallen in love with the more the blood came protruding out of my abdomen. I didn't know what to do. I slowly began to rise from the floor, trying to make my way down the hall and some force from behind me pushed me forward . It was like being hit by a sixteen wheeler from behind.
As I flew forward all I could see was darkness and images of my life floating before me; images of the bitter emptiness I had felt for years. The pain I went through with my dead-beat drunken father beating me day in and day out. The prostitute of a mother that I had, that misguided my understanding of respect for females. Then finally images of the girl I had laid eyes upon; the girl who would take away my worries and pain.
With these scattered images floating about and being shoved forward, I came to a halt, and what lay ahead of me was the most horrific thing I had ever seen in my life. My dream girl, the one with whom I had laid eyes upon a few moments prior was being mutalated before my eyes. She was cut with a razor sharp blade several times leaving the markings of a hex across her chest. I looked around searching to fight off this person, only to see that no one was there. With every look at my loves unresponsive body the more enraged I got.
As I reached my hand forward to caress her face and kiss her soft lips I noticed that my hands were now covered in blood. What had happened? God, did I do something wrong? All of the sudden I felt my chest pull outward and felt my soul soar above my body. My soul and body were now separate. My conscious mind was now peering down at my body which appeared to be in an erect comatose state. As I looked down toward my body I heard myself say "Dies Irae." I had no clue what this meant, but I could tell you it was Latin. I felt my soul soar as if it were trying to defeat the demon that had now possessed my body.
I saw my now possessed body move quickly down the darkened hallway. The only things to provide light to the hallway were the candelabra's. My eyes were glaring with rage as my body got closer and closer to the people who were initially surrounding me. My demon possessed body entered the pipe organ room at the end of the hallway. The room painted in the palest of white and the wooden floor creaked as you walked across it. My body had made itself known. "My name is Lived" he said sternly. All the chatter that was going about in the room ceased.
People were now trembling at the sight of my demon possessed body. It was as if they knew something was going on. They knew that something terrible was going to come out of this. The porcelain white walls had suddenly become blood stained as blood came trickling out of each crack. "Lived" lifted his hands and pronounced "Dies Irae" again.
Each person in the room looked blankly at one another in shock, they could not believe what was happening. Someone whispered…"Does anyone know what he is saying?" Slowly the whisper was passed around the room, and the whisper came to a halt when Father George yelled out "He's saying The Day of Wrath. He's speaking Latin." The room hushed as "Lived" began speaking in tongues. His eyes drawn outward from his face as if they were to pierce every human soul in the room, the walls began to shake, and people began running toward any outlet they could find.
"God, help us!" they all screamed as they were running away. You could hear the whispered prayers of people as they began to flee the area of "Lived", but as soon as they began their prayers the voices were silenced. "Lived" had taken the power of verbal prayer away from them. The room was filled with the sound of stomping feet, like a heard of wild animals fleeing a predator. Then it came to a stop, all those who were running fell to the ground.
Writing and Emotion/Grief
There are tons of things in our environment that provoke emotion. However, when something unexpected happens it can provoke thought so intense that it just has to be written down.
One true example of this emotional writing can be viewed at my friends website (www.aarongeorgehill.com). If you take a glance at his page...it will take you to his blog (journal) and you can read his story.
Once you begin reading, you'll learn a lot about my friend Aaron. In 2002,, he was in a terrible car accident that, more or less, left him brain dead. His mother kept him alive for as long as he could until he passed July 4th 2008. In any event the blog and page a way for his mother to grieve the loss of his son.
I truly believe that if you're mad, upset, or just start crying for no reason...you need to grab a piece of paper and let your feelings out on paper. You don't know how many times I have written hate letters to my boss in MS Word (then deleted them)....written to God asking why.....and just wrote because I didn't know why I was crying. It truly is a great way to help you cope with the feelings that rush your body.
I don't know how to explain it....but it truly works! If you don't believe me...just look at my friends page and maybe it'll be put things into perspective.
One true example of this emotional writing can be viewed at my friends website (www.aarongeorgehill.com). If you take a glance at his page...it will take you to his blog (journal) and you can read his story.
Once you begin reading, you'll learn a lot about my friend Aaron. In 2002,, he was in a terrible car accident that, more or less, left him brain dead. His mother kept him alive for as long as he could until he passed July 4th 2008. In any event the blog and page a way for his mother to grieve the loss of his son.
I truly believe that if you're mad, upset, or just start crying for no reason...you need to grab a piece of paper and let your feelings out on paper. You don't know how many times I have written hate letters to my boss in MS Word (then deleted them)....written to God asking why.....and just wrote because I didn't know why I was crying. It truly is a great way to help you cope with the feelings that rush your body.
I don't know how to explain it....but it truly works! If you don't believe me...just look at my friends page and maybe it'll be put things into perspective.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Assignment: Story...Plot: Good/Bad News... Element: Cell Phone
The tail lights leave a red path down the fallen snow. Slowly, the red lights fade, and a young man steps out of his silver sedan. He seems to be a bit frustrated, as he paces back and forth, leaving the white, crisp blanket of snow shaken in turmoil. He lets out a deep breath in to the cool dark air leaving a trail of smoke behind him.
He frantically searches in his pockets, only to be startled, he opens the driver’s side door. He quickly peaks his head inside to grab something and closes the door in such a fashion that you wouldn’t even notice his presence. He catches his breath and takes one step down the old cobblestone driveway only to be closer to the house.
Suddenly he comes to an abrupt halt; it’s as if he is frozen. He has a stone cold look on his face that only a chisel could break. Suddenly, you hear the sound of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony playing; the young man frantically reaches in his pocket, only to answer his cell phone. He says “Hello? …Mom? ... Listen, I really can’t talk right now. I’m in the middle of something. … I’ll call you back later. Okay? ... Love you, bye.”
At this point, he has beads of sweat falling from his forehead; he pulls a hankie from the right pocket of his leather jacket and wipes away the perspiration. Gently, he folds the hankie and places it back in his pocket. With hesitation, he takes another step towards the front door of the house. A frantic look comes across his face, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes glazed over; he only has a few more steps to take before he’s at the front door.
He takes three more steps, and extends his hand to the doorbell. As he is about to ring the bell, you hear Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony again. He reaches into his pocket only to shut off his phone completely. Again, he extends his arm and this time he presses the doorbell, only to hear the “ding-dong” noise come from inside the house. He takes one step back to allow the person inside to open the door, but no one arrives. He takes a deep breath, letting out a big sigh and rings the doorbell again, “ding-dong”, this time a young woman with shoulder length blond hair, hazel eyes, dressed in a white t-shirt and boxer shorts that read “Eat my shorts” answers the door.
The woman says “John! What are you doing here? It’s Wednesday, you never come to visit on Wednesdays, especially when it’s snowy like this outside.” He takes a deep breath and lets it all out. Smiling at her, he lets out a little chuckle. “What’s so funny hon?” the young woman says. He leans towards her, wraps his arms around her and says “I just came because I missed you and needed to see you, is that okay Meliss?” “I suppose…but why don’t you come inside, it’s cold out there!”
John walks inside the house and Melissa removes his jacket and hangs it in the hallway closet.
“John, can I get you something to drink? How about coffee or something hot?” “No….nothing hot, just a bottle of water.”
Melissa comes back with an ice cold bottle of water and sits down beside John on the couch, as the watch the end of Family Guy.
“So John, why did you come up? I rarely see you during the week. I usually see you on the weekends.”
“Well Melissa, there is something important I need to talk to you about.”
“What?”
The room suddenly has a hush of silence; the television is shut off and no one else is in the room except John and Melissa. John gazes into Melissa’s eyes as he begins to speak.
“Melissa, we’ve been dating for four years now, right?”
“Yes…”
“Well, I think it’s time…”
“Time to what?” she says frantically as tears begin to fall down her face.
He softly kisses her cheek and wipes away her tears; pushing her hair behind one ear. She closes her eyes tightly as a waterfall of tears flows from her eyes, running streaks of black mascara down her face.
“Well, I think it’s time… (He gets down on one knee) time that we take the next step and spend the rest of our lives together.”
Blindsided by what has just happened Melissa’s frown turns into smile, yet the tears are still pouring down her face.
“Yes” she responds.
“There is nothing more I’d like to do than spend the rest of my life with you.”
John is overjoyed; he now has a full-on smile. It seems as if his hesitation, pacing back and forth, and excessive perspiration all paid off. Melissa looks at John with a cockeyed look on her face.
“I thought you were about to break up with me for a second, but this turned out to be the best day of my life! We have to share the good news…who should we call first?”
John went to the hallway closet and pulled out his cell phone and dialed his mother’s phone. After three rings his mom answers.
“Mom? Melissa has something to tell you.”
“Mrs.Doughty? Your son just asked me to marry him!”
TO BE CONTINUED….
He frantically searches in his pockets, only to be startled, he opens the driver’s side door. He quickly peaks his head inside to grab something and closes the door in such a fashion that you wouldn’t even notice his presence. He catches his breath and takes one step down the old cobblestone driveway only to be closer to the house.
Suddenly he comes to an abrupt halt; it’s as if he is frozen. He has a stone cold look on his face that only a chisel could break. Suddenly, you hear the sound of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony playing; the young man frantically reaches in his pocket, only to answer his cell phone. He says “Hello? …Mom? ... Listen, I really can’t talk right now. I’m in the middle of something. … I’ll call you back later. Okay? ... Love you, bye.”
At this point, he has beads of sweat falling from his forehead; he pulls a hankie from the right pocket of his leather jacket and wipes away the perspiration. Gently, he folds the hankie and places it back in his pocket. With hesitation, he takes another step towards the front door of the house. A frantic look comes across his face, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes glazed over; he only has a few more steps to take before he’s at the front door.
He takes three more steps, and extends his hand to the doorbell. As he is about to ring the bell, you hear Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony again. He reaches into his pocket only to shut off his phone completely. Again, he extends his arm and this time he presses the doorbell, only to hear the “ding-dong” noise come from inside the house. He takes one step back to allow the person inside to open the door, but no one arrives. He takes a deep breath, letting out a big sigh and rings the doorbell again, “ding-dong”, this time a young woman with shoulder length blond hair, hazel eyes, dressed in a white t-shirt and boxer shorts that read “Eat my shorts” answers the door.
The woman says “John! What are you doing here? It’s Wednesday, you never come to visit on Wednesdays, especially when it’s snowy like this outside.” He takes a deep breath and lets it all out. Smiling at her, he lets out a little chuckle. “What’s so funny hon?” the young woman says. He leans towards her, wraps his arms around her and says “I just came because I missed you and needed to see you, is that okay Meliss?” “I suppose…but why don’t you come inside, it’s cold out there!”
John walks inside the house and Melissa removes his jacket and hangs it in the hallway closet.
“John, can I get you something to drink? How about coffee or something hot?” “No….nothing hot, just a bottle of water.”
Melissa comes back with an ice cold bottle of water and sits down beside John on the couch, as the watch the end of Family Guy.
“So John, why did you come up? I rarely see you during the week. I usually see you on the weekends.”
“Well Melissa, there is something important I need to talk to you about.”
“What?”
The room suddenly has a hush of silence; the television is shut off and no one else is in the room except John and Melissa. John gazes into Melissa’s eyes as he begins to speak.
“Melissa, we’ve been dating for four years now, right?”
“Yes…”
“Well, I think it’s time…”
“Time to what?” she says frantically as tears begin to fall down her face.
He softly kisses her cheek and wipes away her tears; pushing her hair behind one ear. She closes her eyes tightly as a waterfall of tears flows from her eyes, running streaks of black mascara down her face.
“Well, I think it’s time… (He gets down on one knee) time that we take the next step and spend the rest of our lives together.”
Blindsided by what has just happened Melissa’s frown turns into smile, yet the tears are still pouring down her face.
“Yes” she responds.
“There is nothing more I’d like to do than spend the rest of my life with you.”
John is overjoyed; he now has a full-on smile. It seems as if his hesitation, pacing back and forth, and excessive perspiration all paid off. Melissa looks at John with a cockeyed look on her face.
“I thought you were about to break up with me for a second, but this turned out to be the best day of my life! We have to share the good news…who should we call first?”
John went to the hallway closet and pulled out his cell phone and dialed his mother’s phone. After three rings his mom answers.
“Mom? Melissa has something to tell you.”
“Mrs.Doughty? Your son just asked me to marry him!”
TO BE CONTINUED….
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