This is week six of the writing blog. We were told and make corrections and rewrite the previous writing blog from week 5. With the knowledge that we learned this week after presenting to the class, I then went back and re-wrote some of the parts and made adjustments from last week’s writing.
I just woke up and I don’t have a clue where I am. I can taste blood in my mouth and I feel like I have been heavily drugged. Everything is very blurry and I feel numb with wires and machines attached to me. The doctors rushed in to see that I’m slowly gaining conscience. “Hello Sir. Do you know where you are?” the doctor asked. “What happened?” I said slurring the words out and trying to sitting up. But there were too many wires attached to me. “Relax. You’re in a safe place... So you don’t remember what happened?” I shook my head instead of saying no. “You had a brain injury in Iraq. We’re in a hospital in Landstuhl, Germany. There is a good chance that we might have to remove your spleen soon, if the swelling doesn't go down. The doctor continued to explain what was happening but I’m having a hard time understanding what was going on. I can’t remember anything and I’m having a hard time speaking. This is what I can remember two days ago. Before this incident. What I could recollect and before the memory losses. It’s the final ending days of the the Iraq War. I remember looking up at the sun and it was blindingly bright. All the bombs, explosives, missiles and munitions are being packed in the Ammo Supply Depot and are being moved into the airfield. I was a machine gunner and the munitions and explosives ordnance expert in charge of millions of dollars worth of military explosives. It’s typical scorching 120 degree in Balad, Iraq, one hour away from capital, Baghdad. I remember working the whole year nonstop with sixteen to eighteen hour working days, with no days off. Not to mention the indirect fire, random bullet hits, rockets, mortars, and lack of sleep. Sleep is a luxury, and I wish I was in bed now. I’m starting to miss the days when I use to wake up on Sunday mornings racing my brother to watch television, I would watch cartoons like Dragon Ball Z or Dexter’s Laboratory with a bowl of cereal, back when I was younger. Then after thinking about cereal and food, my stomach is now growling. Recently they told us that we need to start rationing our food and water because it was running low. Two months ago they told us that there is no more showering and no more laundry. I’m so hungry, I’m so tired, and I smell like an animal’s corps, but I’m happy because we are told that we are going back home soon. There’s a sand storm right now and I can’t believe I’m thinking that this is great because this will blot out the sun. It’s the simple things in life, I guess. So me and my friends decided to run to a in a large conex container or shipping container, it’s once you see at dockyards. I figure this is a good and safe place to hide while sand storm continues. I then sat down and continued to wait. This sand will get into anything and everything but I’m content and secured with my friends and this girl that I had a crush on was there while we wait. I guess must have dozed off. I looked up and my friends were carrying me into a humvee or military jeep. I asked them what happened. Nobody said anything. Everyone of my friends looks worried and sad with fear was in their face. The girl that is with us was crying now and said goodbye to me. I feel so confused.Why am I bleeding? They rushed me into the hospital and they started cutting my clothes off. I’m feel so tired. The doctors were yelling. “ Keep him awake!” But when woke up, I was in a hospital in Landstul, Germany. Something must have went off when I was inside of the conex container during the sand storm.
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This is week five of the writing blog and we read about, and annotate: The Yellow Wall-Paper (Charlotte Perkins Stetson). This week, I will be rewriting a scene from the Yellow Wall-Paper as if it were a fan based fiction concept. For my weekly in my life writing, I will be writing about a time when I made a decision and something had a negative impact on my life. This will be written in first person and past tense and I will be the main character.
Yesterday John and I spend such a wonderful beautiful day in garden outside. He had paid a local errand boy to whitewash that horrid room while we spend a romantic day. When the day ended, John had to leave again due to one of his patients from out of town as he says. Oh I wished I had more time and energy to spend with such a wonderful man as John. I also noticed that the room was more plain and such a bore with it as white walls and now looks like a hospital room. Without that horrid wallpaper that was I starting to grow more fond of. Today I feel very awake and ever so well. Resting had made me think clearer and with more focused. The only difference now was that I have more energy I have noticed that I could think clearer. I have noticed that the woman from the horrid wallpaper was gone with the new paint cover such an empty room. This room no longer feels the same so I was thinking of going outside and because John is not around my bedside. As I tried to open the door I had noticed something strange and that the door was locked from the outside. “John!” I cried and he rushed to the door. “How did you sleep last night my love and how do you feel?” John said and smiled. “ John please open the door. This is starting to scare me.” John walked in wearing a lab coad and with a doll that looked familiar like family member. Behind was a nurse and a policeman like guard. “Today is your check out day,” he said. Could it be that I was imaging or hallucinating the whole time I was here with John. I was ever so trapped from the beginning of my stay here. This place, this horrid place with its barred windows and grounded bed was asylum all along. _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ I grow tired of this place and sometimes regret why I had reenlisted 2 years ago. It’s a scorching 120 degree in Balad, Iraq, one hour away from capital, Baghdad. I have been stuck in this desert carrying this M249 machine gun everywhere for almost a year now. The whole year has been gruelling with sixteen to eighteen hour working days, with no days off. Not to mention the indirect fire, random bullet hits, rockets, mortars, and lack of sleep. Sleep is a luxury, and I wish I was in bed now. I’m starting to miss the days when I use to wake up on Sunday mornings racing my brother to watch television, I would watch cartoons like Dragon Ball Z or Dexter’s Laboratory with a bowl of cereal, back when I was younger. Then after thinking about cereal and food, my stomach is now growling. Recently they told us that we need to start rationing our food and water because it was running low. Two months ago they told us that there is no more showering and no more laundry. I’m so hungry, I’m so tired, and I smell like an animal’s corps, but I’m happy because we are told that we are going back home soon. There’s a sand storm right now and I can’t believe I’m thinking that this is great because this will blot out the sun. It’s the simple things in life, I guess. So me and my friends decided to run to a in a large conex container or shipping container, it’s once you see at dockyards. I figure this is a good and safe place to hide while sand storm continues. I then sat down and continued to wait. This sand will get into anything and everything but I’m content and secured with my friends and this girl that I had a crush on was there while we wait. I guess must have dozed off. I looked up and my friends were carrying me into a humvee. I asked them what happened. Nobody said anything. Everyone of my friends looks worried and sad with fear was in their face. The girl that is with us was crying now and said goodbye to me. I feel so confused.Why am I bleeding? They rushed me into the hospital and they started cutting my clothes off. I’m feel so tired. The doctors were yelling. “ Keep him awake!” but when woke up, I was in a hospital in Landstul, Germany. This is week four of the blog, and this week we are asked to read and annotate: Bullet in the Brain (Tobias Wolff). I will be adding and rewriting a scene from Bullet in the Brain and using a bit of format dialogue for this writing. In this week of my current life, I will be writing in first person and using symbolism, as write about my daily ritual when I get up from after working nights at a prison. Upon pulling the trigger, Tobias Wolff left out that there was another man in line behind Anders. This man’s name is Demetri. Demetri had almost lived the same lifestyle as Anders as aspiring book critic himself. A younger version of Anders in same way and lifestyle and aspired to be like him. A fan of Anders, however, did not noticed that his hero was going to die this day. As the Anders bleed to death he noticed the guy behind him Demetri, a former student, glaced in the eyes. Demetri felt the softness in his eye as Anders life fades away. “What a tragedy,” Demetri said aloud. “I said shut the hell up. You want to be a funny guy like this old man.” the man with the gun moves on to Demetri. “No,” Demetri said. “Then stop looking at me the way the old man did. Or your next.” Demetri fixed his gaze on the man’s now bloody wing-tip shoes. “No down there. Up there! Bright boy!” He stuck the pistol under Demetris’ chin and pushed it upward the same way he made Andre. Demetri noticed the same Gods in the sky as along with the same sexy cow and made a smirk like Andre. “You think this is funny too bright boy?” “No.” This time the man looked at the ceiling stared at the Zeus and nodded. The man with the gun made a smirk back at Demetri and then stared at Andre’s lifeless body. He then continued to rob the bank. When the robber had it ended. Demetri was still stunned. He remembered his first lover, Karen, who he was most madly in love but ended in a affair. He remembered his wife and how she would stare at him when he laughed at the wrong times. But most of all he remembered his nineteen year old son waiting at the train station on his was to Howard right before he went into the bank. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- These is week four of my day in my current life blog. In this week, I will be writing about some days are different when I have nightmares. This week in class we talked more about symbolism and first person view and I will be using these two in my writing for this blog. When I came back from a war environment to a peaceful setting in just a snap of a finger, things feel different and nothing feels the same. It’s 1:00 pm in my bedroom and now I’m awake soaked in night sweats. Breathing heavy from my nightmare, I look around my dark covered room to make sure I’m the only one. I have taken sleeping aids to help me fall asleep and now I feel better. What also helps are these angels that I have placed in every room of my house. These angels come in different shapes and sizes. Some people don’t like to have them around. However, they’re the reason why I fall asleep and some nightmares end. I get this recurring dream that I’m running in Iraq, looking for her but she is not around, and now everything is blowing up around me. Today as I rest in my bed, I feel safe because she sounds asleep without a sound under my bed waiting in her coffin. I then decided to get up and clear room by room with her because it will only make me feel more safe and secured. Sleep and security is a luxury because I haven’t slept any better because the nightmares from Iraq are back since the incident in Medellin, Colombia earlier in June. My job working in a prison is also not helping. It was supposed to be a vacation away from the norms. However, violence is not a stranger in my life and it always finds a way. I could remember me and my friends as they witness what was happening, when two gunman started robbing us in broad daylight. We all felt very helpless because no angels were with us that day. But what I guess helped was that I didn’t the language and kept my mouth shut while it all happened. This could have been a Bullet in the Brain (Tobias Wolff) moment. This is week three of the blog and the focus here is to compose a present scene. This week's reading was about What is Creative Nonfiction? (Lee Gutkind) | Making Scenes in Memoir (Lee Martin) After reading and annotating this weeks reading assignment, I will create a scene in first person and present tense . In this process, I will focus on description to appeal to the five senses. I will also include three pictures for visual in order to show readers about my current scene.
This brain injury from Iraq always robs of a good sleep. It’s 09:30 pm, the sun has set and it’s dark now. I have been laying in bed for the past 3 hours, hoping to fall asleep listening to the television with Family Guy on the background.Taking sleeping drugs and alcohol might be the only way to fall asleep tonight, however, I’m out of time and now I have to get up and go to work. This is a moment in my present life. As I put my uniform on, I look around the house and I can’t help but think how quiet it is. I have lived in this three bedroom house for past five years now, and the only room I use is the living room and my bedroom. It feels very empty at night especially because two years ago, this house was filled with laughter and smiles. I can still see my son trying to run from the living room into the dining room. My two dogs would be fighting with the cat, meanwhile, the cat would defend herself with her hisses and scratches. The television in the living room would be very loud with the volume all the way up with Family Guy or American Dad. I could still smell my fiance cooking an Italian dinner again. But that was two years, and today it is empty. I turned the lights off from the outside and looking into the rooms which seems like a lifeless dark empty void. I quickly shut the door and ran towards my car. The ride to work from Ridley to Chester is a ten minute slow drive. The only thing that comes to mind is that I should sell that house and buy another one. Maybe then I could create new memories. However, while trying to justify or reason this strain of thought, my mind answers back with why? And what are you running away from? Even though my life with my ex-fiance and son is over, I have always wondered if I could prevent it from ending. Maybe if I didn’t volunteer for Iraq, or maybe if I would have just gotten help after the brain injury that sent me from Iraq into Germany. I could probably pinpoint why I am the way I am today, or even stayed at the hospital bed to get more testing. Even if the doctors would have dope me into more drugs and looked and feel more like a zombie. I would probably learn more and gotten treated for this post traumatic stress that everybody keeps talking about. I finally got into the parking lot of Chester State Corrections where I work. As I get out of my car someone says thank you for your service and they noticed my Freemason insignia and license plate that says Iraq War Veteran. I smiled and looked down, I usually don’t know what to say. It gets awkward when people say that to me or to other veterans.To me it feels fake when people say it, like it’s rehearsed from the movies or what you’re supposed to say to someone after they served. I use to say the same things to other veterans when I was younger. I continued to walk and pretend that I didn’t hear it. Then I remembered my other soldier that was in that hospital with me that gotten his eye and leg blown off from an improvised explosives talked to another Marine. He said,“Everybody loves Soldiers and Marines. And then we come home.” This is a moment in my preset life. This is week two of the writing blog. This week we read and annotated Teach Writing as a Process Not a Product (Don Murray, Against Vanity: In Praise of Revision (Mary Karr) , Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life (Anne Lamott) In this process I will create a scene and have a writer's round table discussion. I will do this by creating a dialog and taking three quotes from each writers and three quotes from myself. This will total into twelve quotes to create a round table discussion.
It’s Thursday morning and my relief is late as usual. My relief today is a rookie and she seems to be lost and overwhelm while we exchange equipment and weapons. I know the feeling of anxiety because you never know what to expect in prison. To lighten her mood her mood I told her a joke and said, “Relax you’re not going to get stabbed,” and smiled. Her face dropped, I think I made her feel worse. I walked out of the prison and got in to my car. I reminded myself that civilians don’t have the same dark humor as veterans. Now I know, I’m just trying to justify what I just said to her, but now i just feel bad for her. I drove to Dunkin Donuts and as I got out of the car I noticed that there was a long line today, however, I was stuck in line with a few famous writers: Mary Karr, Don Murray, and Anne Lamott. I then bumped shoulders with Mary Karr and smiled to open up the group. “How are you today officer?” Mary smiled back. I then began to tell the group that I’m on my way to my English class and just like that we began to talk about writing process. Here is what we talked about. “I’m not really good at writing but someday I do aspire to become a blogger for just for fun. I really want to talk about Men’s health and fitness. So what do you think is the secret to success in writing? Any advice, ma’am?” I said with a smile. Like a canned material Mary opens up as says, “ Revision is the secret to their troubles and your.” That wasn’t what I was expecting a famous writer to say. So I leaned back to as she continued. “Every writer I know who is worth a damn spends way more time losing than winning,” Mary said with one eyebrow raised with a smirk on her face. Don Murray then raised a his pointer finger as if he wanted to stop her and said, “Be patient, listen quietly, the writing will come. The voice of writing will tell you what to do.” Mary looks at Don and then back to me and says. “Writing is painful-it’s fun only for novices, the very young, and hacks. Mary seems to want share the hard knocks of writing but Don spoke softly as if he wanted to teach me more about myself. “The writer, as he writes, is making ethical decisions. He doesn’t test his words by a rule book, but by life.” Don continued with his zen like voice. Intrigued staring at Don with my mouth open and being lost in the moment. Anne Lamott then jumps in the conversation and says, “ E.L. Doctorow once said that, ‘writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can see only as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.’ You don’t have to see where you’re going, you don’t have to see your destination or everything.” She also looked and stared at Mary and said to the group, “Sometimes it actually gives them hope, and hope, as Charteron said, is the power of being cheerful in circumstances that we know to be desperate.” “So you what you and Don is saying is that writing will be a mountainous journey?” I added, while scratching my head. Anne nodded and said, “Writing can be a pretty desperate endeavor, because it is about some of our deepest needs: our need to be visible, to be heard, our need to make sense of our lives, to wake up and grow and belong.” These writer seem to be very passionate about their writing and see writing from a very enlightening point of view. Right before they all left. Don Murray ended the conversation and said, “ At the age 77, I realized that I am a storyteller who must tell the stories life has given me. The genre must come from the story to be told not from the literary ambition of the writer.” When I returned to my car, I wanted to turn around say, wave goodbye, and thank you to the writers, however, they disappeared. I sat in silence for a moment just to let it all resonate through me like my coffee. What a very enlightening day. This is my first blog called the Proust questionnaire. What is the Proust questionnaire you say? It is a modern popularity form of interview developed by Marcel Proust. I tried answering these questions the best that I could in order for you to see what kind of writer I would be.
__1.__What is your idea of perfect happiness? Perfect happiness is when I’m with family and friends. Just laughs and jokes during a simple time back when money was irrelevant. __2.__What is your greatest fear? My greatest fear is dying without a purpose. Living a life without leaving an impact, or a dent into this world. I don’t want to look back on my deathbed one day and say that I could have done this better or lived an unfulfilled life. __3.__What is the trait you most deplore in yourself? The trait that I deplore in myself is kindness and giving. Throughout the past I have been known to give and sacrificed, sometimes I would sacrifice myself especially during times of scarcity. __4.__What is the trait you most deplore in others? The trait that I deplore on other is the same that I give to others, kindness and giving. When others are unselfish and give back even when not asked, I tend to make a mental note and admire the person. __5.__Which living person do you most admire? The person I would admire the most is my step father. He is a very resilient and influential person that changed my life. A crazy Irishman that was in special operations during the Korean War that loves to take risks. __6.__What is your greatest extravagance? My greatest extravagance would be manifesting my capability as a civilian. During my time with the Marine Corps, and my younger days while I was in school, I have noticed that I always pushed my threshold for growth and adventure. __7.__What is your current state of mind? My current state of mind is that I am stuck in a rot. I have noticed that pursuing money does not lead to happiness and accomplishment. In my line of work I have always hear from my co workers accumulate a six figure income, however none of them are happy or fulfilled. Sometimes I wonder if they see life in my own eyes or have the same standards. __8.__What do you consider the most overrated virtue? The most overrated virtue that I would consider is common sense. In our society we see it all the time with how policy,laws, moral codes, ethics, etc should be instilled. However, nobody care and when a tragedy happens things change. A tragedy should not be a catalyst for change. __9.__On what occasion do you lie? The occasion I would lie is when i deemed it necessary to lie to avoid certain confrontation or to protect others or others interest. I like to choose my own battles. __10.__What do you most dislike about your appearance? What I dislike about my appearance is how I am getting older. __11.__Which living person do you most despise? Today I would say, the president because we allow this person to be in charge even when so many facts have come to light. __12.__What is the quality you most like in a man? The most liked quality in a man is that a man can inspire and change the world. __13.__What is the quality you most like in a woman? What I liked most in woman goes with question number 12, is that a man cannot accomplish to change and inspire the world without a powerful strong woman to back him up. __14.__Which words or phrases do you most overuse? The words or phrases that I most overuse is, “Do you understand?” With my brain injury from Iraq, I have noticed that my mouth is no longer as fast as my brain. __15.__What or who is the greatest love of your life? My greatest love would be my grandmother. Nobody will come close to how much love I have for her. She is the reason, I’m still alive today. __16.__When and where were you happiest? When I was with my family when I was younger was when I were most happiest. It was more of a simpler time and I felt very innocent and naive. __17.__Which talent would you most like to have? Unwavering resilience is what I liked most to have. You can’t fail. __18.__If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? If I could change one thing about myself it would be to more resilient. I feel older and with more knowledge about myself. I know the person who was in the Marine Corps was a different person than the father that I am today. __19.__What do you consider your greatest achievement? I would say completing my military career is my greatest achievement today. It became a solid foundation for this life. I can always fall back on prior experiences that I fell I have lived a lifetime at the age of 30. __20.__If you were to die and come back as a person or a thing, what would it be? If I would die and come back as person, I would like to be myself again. I would like to do things better,however, I’m afraid that I might not see my son again. __21.__Where would you most like to live? At a beautiful beach that stays in the 80 degree weather all year round is where I would like to live. Imagine Medillin, Colombia weather but without the violence or corruption of life. __22.__What is your most treasured possession? I don’t have any treasured possession. __23.__What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery? My lowest depth of misery is if and when the love of my life dies. __24.__What is your favorite occupation? My favorite occupation was the military unfortunately that life is behind me now. __25.__What is your most marked characteristic? Unselfishness is my most marked characteristic. __26.__What do you most value in your friends? The most value I have in my friends is trustworthiness. Without trust, there are no such friends. __27.__Who are your favorite writers? My favorite writer is Dr. Jose Rizal. He was a Filipino writer that studied in Spain. With his writing he inspired a whole nation to fight for independence. __28.__Who is your hero of fiction? My fiction hero is Batman. The billionaire playboy is just a front for him to change Gotham. __29.__Which historical figure do you most identify with? John Hancock is the most historical figure I would identify with. __30.__Who are your heroes in real life? My heroes in real life would be the ones we will never hear from. You only hear about them from your local community newspaper when they are dead. My heroes are the special forces of our county. __31.__What are your favorite names? My favorite name is Ray of course because of my name, and also Mason. __32.__What is it that you most dislike? I dislike dishonesty and selfishness. __33.__What is your greatest regret? To live and unfulfilled life is my greatest regret. __34.__How would you like to die? I would like to die fulfilled and completed a lifetime of journey. Surrounded by loved ones, family and friends. __35.__What is your motto? My motto is take from my friend in the military. He always told me to, “Have fun, take risk.” |
Ray CabanceI'm a student at Delaware County Community College and I major in Criminal Justice. Currently working for the State of Pennsylvania Department of Corrections. Archives
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