“Binocular Vision” & "Mud"

“Binocular Vision” is written from the point of view of a child living next door to the object of his scrutiny. We do not get to see everything that is going on in the house next door, just what the child sees looking into various windows. We do not get to know more about the residents than what the child observes and assumes. We find out at the end that looks can be deceiving and that the child’s assumptions were incorrect. He assumed that the couple was contentedly married and the man went to work every day while the woman took care of the house. But, he was wrong. They were not a couple but mother and son and they were not both content. The man was depressed enough to commit suicide in the garage. There is very little dialogue in the story.

“Mud” is written from the point of view of a widower. He sees the ghosts or bodies or spirits of those he has lost. We, the readers, do not get a clear understanding of why he is seeing them now. He just sees his father and grandmother doing what they did all the time when they were alive. She was in the kitchen and he was in the living room watching television. He wants to talk to them and to hug them, but he has an important meeting to go to. He has the most difficulty not going to see his wife when he hears her voice. This story unlike the previous one is moved by the dialogue. We don’t get a complete sense of what the people were like before death, we only see his interpretation of them after death. Which is similar to “Binocular Vision” because we are only seeing what the main character saw in his family members.

"Eleven" & "Bullet in the Brain"

The story “Eleven” describes a young girl on her eleventh birthday and how horrible that day was for her. I love idea that you are not just one age, but all of the ages that you have experienced before that too. There are days that I really do not feel the age that I am, but much younger. The characterization of the teacher in the story is one that I can really relate to. I have had a teacher like that. One who automatically assumes that the first person to speak is telling the truth and you cannot change her mind. The dialogue is also relatable because sometimes adults refuse to listen to children because they don’t feel that the children can have anything of interest to say. It is extremely frustrating. The main character does not get the chance to say much out loud. Mostly we see her inner monologue.

In contrast the main character in “Bullet in the Brain” speaks quite a bit. He cannot seem to help himself. He keeps insulting the dialogue of the men with guns. He is inappropriately amused by the situation that he is in and they are paying too much attention to what he is saying. While the little girl in the first story only has to wear and ugly sweater for a while on her birthday, which is admittedly humiliating, Anders winds up dead because of his inability to stop his inner critic from coming out.

“St. Lucy’s Home for Girls Raised by Wolves” & "Currents"

“St. Lucy’s Home for Girls Raised by Wolves” begins with the girls living in nature. They’re pulled into a school setting that is completely unlike anything they are accustomed to. They are changed by the school and have new ways thrust upon them purposefully by people who think their ways were wrong. The girls progress through the stages of change. We learn quite a bit about their personalities before and after the changes.

In “Currents” the plot moves backwards. We start with the children being changed, but then we find out the circumstances that changed them. Both play on nature. One group is changed by people forcing their will on the children, the other is changed by nature’s effect on people. We don’t get a lot of information about the characters but we find out the circumstances that change the. 

4/4 Fictional Place pp. 191-2 Exercise 4

Christmas

The tree is covered in bright lights, garland, bulbs and homemade decorations. The house is filled with people of all ages. There are over thirty people in the tiny house and it is snowing outside. How is there enough oxygen for everyone? Is there enough oxygen for everyone? Ana really wasn’t convinced.

“Auntie, Auntie, Willow is picking on me. She took my new doll and won’t give it back. Help me!” They walk towards the basement door but were stopped before they could start down the steps.

“Hey, Grandma wants you to help set the table” Her cousin tried to hand her the plates.

“I’ll be right back, I have to deal with a kid situation.” She started down.

“Hurry up, Ana! Everyone is hungry!”

Ana made it down the stairs this time and started down the hall.

“Hey,” one of Ana’s aunts stuck her head out of the freezer room, “can you take this up?” She was holding out bags of frozen corn.

“Sure, just a minute.” Ana set the corn on the stairs to grab as she went up.

They finally made it to the play room. “Willow, give your cousin her doll back. You would not like it if she took one of the toys Santa gave you.”

“I wouldn’t care.” Willow was a bit snotty sometimes.

“I’m serious. Give her back the doll. Right now! You don’t want me to get your parents involved in this. And, we haven’t opened gifts here yet. I might take mine back until you learn to ask before you take.”

“FINE! It isn’t a very good toy anyway!” Willow dropped the doll on the ground and started to walk away.

“Hold it, Willow. Pick it up and hand it to her nicely. You know better.”

She grumbled, but followed directions.

Ana patted her niece on the head and started up the stairs, grabbing the corn on the way up. As she reached the kitchen, she passed off the corn to another aunt and started setting the table. Just as she got everything set out…

A head popped through the door. “Ana, we are out of propane for the heater, I need your car to go get more from my house.” Her brother’s car was blocked in.

“Alright, I’ll get the keys.” She made her way to the bedroom and just as she found the keys, one of the babies woke up and started screaming. She picked up the infant and carried him out with her, tossing the keys as she tried to stop the screaming. Someone handed her a diaper bag. There was nowhere to change the diaper in here. 

The only good thing about carrying a screaming, smelly kid was no one stopped to ask you for anything. She made her way upstairs, the forbidden area to most. But she knew Grandma would understand. She set the baby on the bed and began to change him. After she was done Ana sat in the old rocking chair and sang the little one to sleep, happy to finally escape the craziness for a bit.

2/17 Characterization pp. 154-5 Exercise 1

Not my usual type of story.

Wrong place, wrong time, Ella could not think of a situation that was better described by that over used phrase. All she wanted in life was to fall in love, start a family and run her flower shop. She had always had an affinity for flowers, growing them, arranging them, deciding which scents worked best with each other. On this particular day she was dropping off a bunch of arrangements for a dinner at a hotel. She got all of the flowers unloaded and the center places on the tables. Ella got into the van and drove away. Heading back to the shop to start the flowers for the wedding on Friday. She glanced in the rearview mirror and saw him.

He was at least six feet tall and looked like he could tip a bull. But even more concerning was the gun pointing at her.

“Drive,” That was all he said. It came out more as a growl rather than a word.

Ella had no choice. She drove.

“Where do you want me to drive to?” She didn’t want to do anything to endanger herself or anyone else.

“Just keep driving. I don’t give a damn where you go.” She was a bit thrown off. He didn’t seem to have a plan in place, which made him even more dangerous.

She kept driving, looking behind her regularly to see if he was still holding that gun, he was. After about fifteen he finally spoke again. “Get us out of the city. How much gas do you have in this tank?”

“I have about half a tank. We should be able to drive a couple of hundred miles.” Ella knew her voice was shaking, but what did she expect, she was driving a lunatic around.

“Good, that’s good. Hopefully, by the time we get that far they will be off on a wild goose trace.” He looked relieved.

“Um…who?” She hoped that if she kept him calm and talking she would make it out of here alive.

“The bastards that tried to double cross me. Did the idiots really think I wouldn’t notice the cops surrounding the place. Somebody tipped them off.” He was starting to get worked up, that was definitely not the plan. She needed to find a different tact.

“Are you hurt? There is a first aid kit back there. I tend to nick myself a lot with my shears and on the rose thorns. It is in the cupboard to your left on the middle shelf.” There, that should not bring on more anger, at least not towards her.

“Thanks,” he opened the cupboard and pulled out the kit. As he shrugged out of this black leather jacket he let out a groan and flinched. There was blood, a lot of blood. She kept looking behind her to check on what he was doing. He began to clean it up with some of the clothes in the back of the van. Then he took the towel from the kit and tied it tightly around the wound. It should stop the bleeding.

By this time, they were outside of the city and about fifty miles from anywhere with help. “We are going to need fuel soon and I still have no idea where we are going. Now I am more than okay with driving as long as you want me to, as long as you don’t shoot me, but I would like to know where I am going.”

“Where are we now?” He looked around, trying to get his bearings.

“We are fifty miles from Glenville.”

“What is Glenville?”

“It is a tiny town about a hundred miles from the city. There is nothing but a few houses and a gas station.”

“Perfect, pull in and fill the tank. I will give you more instructions then.”

She was nothing if not good at following directions. Especially when her life was on the line.

He had her pull over near a power plant on the side of the road. He forced her to get out first and followed her behind a small shed. He looked at her, “I’m sorry.”

Those were the last words she ever heard.

2/19 Dialogue pp. 115 Ex 6

How am I going to tell my mother? What will she think? How do I even start this conversation? I need to figure it out before I get there and I only have a few minutes. How should I bring it up? How about the direct approach?

Mom, I’m pregnant.

Her: Oh my goodness, I didn’t even know you were dating. When is the wedding? We’ll have to do it before you start to show. Who is he? When can we meet him?

Um, I am not getting married and the father will not be involved.

Her: I can’t believe this, are you kidding me? How irresponsible can you be? Didn’t I talk about protection enough? I told you that you can’t rely on the man to take care of it.

Okay, that is not where I want to go with it. Let’s try another way.

Mom, remember how you always told us that you wanted us to wait longer than you did to have children and not to get married unless you are in love? Well, I waited until I was older than you to get pregnant and I am not in love so I am not getting married.

Her: What?

I am going to have a baby, on my own. The father will not be involved.

Her: Didn’t I talk about protection enough? I told you that you can’t rely on the man to take care of it. How are you going to afford a baby on your own?

Mom, I have a good job and I make good money. We’ll be fine.

Her: Are you sure about this? It is not easy raising a child on your own. It should not be decided lightly.

I’m sure, you know I always wanted to be a mom, and I am in a good place financially and career wise. It was not a plan to do this alone right now, but I think I can handle it, I hope that I will have your support on this.

Her: Of course you do, I am just concerned. And what about the father? Have you talked to him about it? Are you sure that he does not want to be involved? It will be harder if he comes back later and wants to be a part of the child’s life. Have you thought about getting a lawyer and getting him to terminate his rights?

Mom, I have thought about all of that, and I am working on it. I only found out a few weeks ago, I haven’t had time to do all of the leg work yet. I am working on it. I have talked to the father and he is adamant that he is not ready to parent. I will work on what that means legally and otherwise. Knowing that you will support me will help. A lot. Thank you.

Her: Honey I love you so much and I will love my grandchild too. It is hard for me to think of you as an adult and not my little girl, but you seem to have thought this through and I am proud of you.

Well that is best case scenario, but probably not completely realistic. I don’t have time to figure out a different way to do this. I have just parked in front of her house. Time to take a deep breath and jump in.

2/15 Choosing a subject: pp 19-20 Ex 3

Have you ever unloaded a delivery truck full of flowers and other plants? It is not as easy as it seems. The good part is the smell. All of those flowers and herbs. Who can resist it? You are immediately transported to a beautiful, peaceful garden. When you have help it is even better. There is the comradery and fun of working together. This is a very good way to get to know your co-workers.

I worked in retail for a few years and the best part of it was the summer that I worked in the Lawn and Garden department. I started slow, just ringing up purchases and clipping the ‘deadheads’ off of plants. Eventually I was trusted enough to do the watering and determining which plants should be clearanced before they completely died. Finally, I was trusted enough to help unload the truck and put up the displays. I was very excited about it, but it might not have been the best idea on the supervisor’s part.

I am incredibly accident prone. I am the only person that I know that can trip over dust. This particular day was sunny but not too hot. It was the perfect day for being outside. Me, my supervisor and three coworkers were unloading the truck. Thankfully they did not allow me to use the forklift. I would wait for one of the racks to come off of the truck then move it to the proper staging area and unload it. There was a lot of chatter about how pretty the plants were and how good they smelled mingled with stories of childhood and joking with each other. Everyone else had done this before but it was my first time. That is why I made the mistake. I was pulling a cart, about six feet tall, two feet deep and four feet wide. I was laughing but paying attention to the ground so I didn’t trip. As I approached the display I heard my supervisor tell me to push the cart, not pull it next time. It was easier to control that way. Her saying this must have been some kind of cosmic signal. At that moment the back wheel hit a dip in the parking lot and the cart sped up. The front wheel hit the back of my ankle and I fell forward landing flat on my stomach. The cart tipped sideways causing petunias to go flying.

I immediately began to laugh. Laughter has always been my way of avoiding crying. In this case crying tears both of pain and of embarrassment. I knew that I had cut up my hands a bit and my ankle hurt, but I was basically okay. The supervisor and my coworkers came over to check on me, they must have thought I was insane sitting on the ground covered in dirt and flowers, laughing like a lunatic. I kept assuring them that I was okay, but the supervisor went in the store to fill out an incident report. We all began to clean up the mess, fortunately most of the trays of petunias were salvageable. All in all, I think we only lost three flats.

By the time we were finished I was starting to realize there was a squishy feeling in my shoes with each step I took and I was starting to hurt. The adrenaline had kept me pain free for a while, but it was wearing off. I told everyone I was going to go in and sit down for a bit while I waited for the paperwork to sign. I got to the office and sat in the chair. I took off my shoe and realized what that feeling had been. My socks were drenched in blood and there was a fairly large cut on the back of my ankle. Needless to say, I did not work anymore that day. I did not need stitches, but I did need to rest and bandage it. The worst part about it was that I was not allowed to work in Lawn and Garden for ten days after that. I had to work the register until the wound healed completely.

I wound up with a scar on that ankle. Being me, I decided to make it a more prominent reminder of the incident, paired with other things. I had a tattoo put on the side of my leg. It is a bouquet of flowers.