a LITTle Blog Humor

Tired!

So today I looked liked this guy,
tired
exhausted
miserable
and ready to go to bed!

Are you slumped?

MOTIVATION

Motivational Poems
Motivational Quotes · Motivational Sayings · Inspirational Quotes
Inspirational Thoughts · Inspirational Poems

 

The Victor

by: C. W. Longenecker

If you think you are beaten, you are.
If you think you dare not, you don't. 
If you like to win but think you can't, 
It's almost a cinch you won't. 
If you think you'll lose, you're lost. 
For out in the world we find
Success begins with a fellow's will. 
It's all in the state of mind. 
If you think you are out classed, you are. 
You've got to think high to rise. 
You've got to be sure of your-self before
You can ever win the prize. 
Life's battles don't always go
To the stronger or faster man. 
But sooner or later, the man who wins
Is the man who thinks he can.

 

 

THis was a poem I presented to my resident assistant staff over the summer and I think everyone can relate to this in some type of way.

Often we feel defeated and feel as though we can't continue on with whatever we are doing. That self doubt come from within. It doesn't matter if someone tells you that you can't do something that final say comes from the will and drive that runs in our veins.

 

I woke up and I wondered what I would do with the rest of my life and how I would leave my name behind so that something on this earth can seem meaningful, and that meaning would be left by me.

 

I wonder how do doctors operate on a heart for 12 hours straight

 

I wonder how do teachers come back to the same classroom that ridicules and mocks them each day

 

I wonder how parents put up with a child that is rebellious

 

I wonder how my professor has so much energy everyday and still continues to love what she does daily

 

I wonder why homeless people insist on begging for money when they get rejected constantly

 

I wonder how the stripper keeps coming back to a place that undresses her with her mind while shes undressing herself and I wonder...

 

Why we leave in a society that runs on constant need of consumption...

 

I wonder why all these things that people do make a difference and how they have the determination and drive to do it. Maybe they read this poem and maybe something in them is telling them that...

 

I DO THIS BECAUSE I HAVE THE DRIVE!

 

So when I think of my future and the places I want to go, people I want to see, adventures I want to explore, mountains I would like to someday climb, and hearts that I will one day change, I think of this poem and I know that the only thing that will stop me is myself!

Writers Of Today:

Who Will make writers of today take a stand and mean something tomorrow?

I wonder how the world will be like if writers today were like Maya Angelou, who was reading Shakespeare at the age of nine,
or like James baldwin who faced controversy from his novel that only expressed his true sexuality,
or like Edgar Allen Poe whose tormented and corrupted life still brought beautiful poetry
or like James Baldwin, Toni Morrison, and Ernest Hemingway who each had their own particular stories to bring that no one did at the time.

How can we say that we are writers if we don't write about things that we experience,
-things that hurt us
-things that weaken us
-things that only we could go through and that only we could face and experience life lessons from.

Writers of Today are the underdogs of today's society. The social construct that says writers will no longer exist tomorrow. That that story that beats through our shirts and is injected into us from the experiences we go through will no longer be heard.

THEY SAY WE ARE LEFT IN THE WOODS AND OUR VOICES ARE PICKED UP AND WHIRLED AWAY BY THE WINDS HOWLS!
how can this be?

Let's be more like these great writers that had a story to tell and told it well. It is most likely that yes, our mouth will be stapled shut a few times, but to endure the pain of holding in then letting the world see our thoughts in ink is much more painful.
OPEN YOUR MOUTH
SCREAM OUT LOUD
BREAK THE SOCIAL CONSTRUCT
LET THE WINDS CARRY OUR VOICES TO THE HOMES OF THE DOUBTFUL
LET US BE AS GREAT AS OUR SISTERS AND BROTHERS WHO TOLD THEIR STORY
LET US BE WRITERS AND TELL A STORY NO ONE HAS HEARD!

Why Can't I leave You

Faded shades of sky blue with sweet cologne and musk

Heavy arms, mass, weighing down from the bricks of coal sitting in your chest

Thumps, pumps, beating hot metal cooled at below 0 degrees

Vows of forbidden fruit that’s so tasteful to the lips

We vow to love and to hurt

Through manipulation and miscommunication

Til lies do us part.

But the aroma of your true love takes you away from me once more

Nature’s beauty turned grotesque,

clouds of balling fumes which chokes your lungs and you are left mummified.

I cannot speak to what I cannot grasp

And then you leave me with one phrase with a thousand possible doors.

I, of course, open the one most desirable.

"You don't care about me"

I reveal that the only way I know how.

The feeling of nothing but the grip of your hands

cocooning its way so neatly into my curves

Mouth opens and shuts into total darkness.

You are my forbidden fruit full of lyrical secretion of total nothingness

but everything that is to be this very moment.

Lyrical hummingbirds vibrating through the seams of my clothes.

And just how the days are like hours and the nights are like minutes

Is when I find that I am left with nothing but your melted body

Washing down the drain of my shower

Leaving me with that and not you

I am left with bricks from your chest

Because that’s all that falls out from your solid skin.

NO PRINTING?

Today In class the printing stopped working. So I thought to myself, what if we couldn't print?
Would that be such a horrible thing?

The total paper market is about 15.2 trillion pages worldwide and so, how much paper did we really save by eliminating one day of paper-free printing?

NOT ALOT I SAY

So what's wrong with a pencil and a piece of paper?


Why can't we write our thoughts on regular, old-fashioned, tree cut paper. Everything is about printing and typing and fast paced news. I don't see alot of people writing in journals, or taking out their notebooks to write their thoughts down. Now a days I see IPads and Kindles and Nooks...and

e-lectronic hands high on caffeine typing away.

I would love to see notebook paper, scattered around the streets of NY oozing riddled thoughts, and humerous giggles.
Fresh lead,
        paper cuts,
  squeaky erasers...

I understand the value of pencil and paper. To see your first thoughts fresh on white canvas and then erased again to start fresh again. To see black and white not yet printed but just a draft of just un-edited thought. So would a day with no printing really be a bad thing. Can we live without spell check and word count and <---
when we mess up.

CAN'T WE JUST ERASE OUR MISTAKES?

Sadly, when we press print, it's already a MISTAKE sent WORLDWIDE.

2012 Election...

This is what students of William Paterson University had to say about Govenor Chris Christie and my response to it.

“Even though he’s trying to help out, he still cut our students funding,” said Paulito Albea, 19, sophomore, criminal justice/sociology major, “That’s not fair that people with low incomes now have to find a way to pay for school and will be forced to take out more loans.”

“I don’t believe for what he stands for,” said Kerry Smalls, 20, junior, Business management and Public Relations major, “He’s trying to eliminate elementary and enrichment programs for high school and middle school students.”

“I don’t like his forms on education,” said William Frazier, 22, Environmental Earth Science major, “He’s cutting back on teaching jobs and my mother is a teacher.” Mike Grant, 19, sophomore, Business management major said that, “A lot of teachers I had in high school have lost their jobs because of the cuts that he’s made.”

“I don’t think he’s done enough as governor to move up to presidency,” Olga Correa, 21, sociology major, “He needs more experience.”

Many of these students that were asked to respond to Governor Christie's decision not to run for presidency were relieved and had a lot to say about what he has done for the state of New Jersey. Those who are education majors, or whose parents or friends are do not feel strongly towards him. Students who commented not only had their own notions about him but they also had the influences of their parents as well.

I know alot of my peers feel negative towards Christie because how it effects their family, their school, their household, and most importantly thier future. Many students did not respond positively, in fact the terms

"Asshole" was used alot.

But no judgement here. It takes alot to do what Christie does and he has indeed contributed to the state of NJ. He just needs to win the heart of students here.

It's going to be tough...

Dance..

One day...

One day I was walking back from the grocery store, several bags in hand,

when I stumbled upon a man sitting on a stoop, at the corner of an old, run-down liquor store that had been out of business for months.

Now the man seemed as though he was middle aged but, the bags under his eyes and dirt on his face added a few years on him. He had on black boots torn and scuffed at the sides, dark jeans that were dingy and frayed at the cuffs and a long trench coat that was three sizes too big for him.

But he was smiling…

Like he had just found out that his daughter graduated from college or that his wife was in the hospital ready to deliver his baby or like…

I don’t know…

Whatever it was, it stopped me in mid-step. It was like an inner peace that I’d never seen before,

Never witnessed,

 didn’t even think existed.

So curiosity and I took a step closer, leaned down towards him and asked him, ever so softly,

“Why are you smiling, sir?”

He didn’t answer. He just sat there in a daze still smiling. So I put my bags down and decided to sit on the stoop next to him and waited patiently for him to think a little bit. It was quite a while that the fierce winds were smacking the cheeks of my face so I proceeded again to ask him the same question, this time more stern.

“Sir?”

He shushed me.

“Why are you…”

He shushed me again, this time bringing my volume level in balance with his.

“Just look,” he said pointing to the people in the streets. They were arguing. The lady with the two kids on her side thought that the man walking past her bumped her on purpose. She continued to call him inappropriate names, and threw out slanderous terms, covering her children’s ear. I thought he must have been pointing to the couple making out on the street light pole so I tapped him.

“Sir?”

“Keep looking”, he said.

Sirens and ambulances were approaching the corner,

A lady walked by with an amputated leg,

Someone just lost their wallet,

“I’M HIV POSITIVE,” she was talking to her friend on the phone and began to cry hysterically

I found more and more things that made me wonder why someone would smile at this.

Pain

Misery

Loss

Greed

Lust

I became aggravated at what he was showing me and I told him no one can smile at things like this.

 “This is why I’m the luckiest man alive,” he said.

I was still confused.

He took a while before he opened his mouth and when he finally did I couldn’t help but hold his hands…

 “I have the air in my lungs which circulates in my body, every day I am here I am reminded of how much other people suffer and I am blessed. I don’t take anything for granted. I am alive and well. And though I don’t have much I know I am blessed because I am still here. Nature takes care of me, I have water when it rains and just enough food in this cart to last me a meal a day. I can’t complain because I know I have a purpose on this earth. I am ready to go whenever it is my time. But until then I will smile because I am living.”

My eyes dazed into his, feeding into his every word because

It was air

It was life

It was love

He told me to take a breath in and realize what I have.

As I looked as this man, I was still at awe that he found happiness in being poor. He didn’t complain about life or his situation or that he hadn’t washed or eaten or slept in a bed or…

I didn’t say much after that but…

“Thank you sir,”

I left my groceries next to him and left.

Every day I would visit him, sit on the stoop next to him, and watch the world in front of me.

I soon began to smile.

A Utopian World of Children

One morning I thought, what would it be like if I were a child again. I thought it should be one of the stories I will soon write. Please leave your feedbacks, comments, and thoughts....

When we think about children, we think innocence, purity, and free spirited. They play around all day and don't expect the world to turn against them. Playing in the dirt, getting their hands muddy, eating worms, laughing and giggling, the world cannot be this horrible place everyone makes it out to be. Think, if children knew what we, as adults, knew would they still be considered children?

Take this picture below for instance...What do you see? I see race. I see gender. I see three four totally different individuals playing together. They are indeed different. They all have different qualities, different parents, different backgrounds and different features, so what makes them get unite and come together?

It is because they do not have the social construct that society has drilled into our nogens and it states that "we are different". As a child, everyone and everythign is all the same. Isn't it crazy to think that children will be the most faithful living things on this earth and why you may ask? Is it because they have not been taught the key ingredients that make up this society? And if that, if children are never taught, that is in school, through their parents, or by social influences, will children ever grow up to be the way the world is today? Judgmental and Unfair?

It is crazy to think that I would love to be a child again when children are limited and constricted of so many things that this world has to offer but yet children are the only living things that won't turn their backs on you. They are just innocent! Maybe children should never grow up, or be taught anything, or go to school, or be influenced by social media? Maybe, but unfortunately this is impossible!

Post Modernism Piece (This is a poem based on my second story The Truth is Out)

My attempt at a Post Modernism Poem...

 Escape

Arms, Palms, hands are sweaty.

Breathing in and out

Looking into the bag for air,

Night falls on my head and the wind pushes my face sideways.

BOOM     BOOM     BOOM

What was that? I whisper.

The light at the end of the tunnel flickers.

Onandoff.

Onandoff.

Ssssshhhhhhhhhh.

Shadows run from behind.

Red light.

Green light.

Yellow light.

Wheels spinning round and round,

Faces turn from north to south,

Missiles dripping from the sky

Left and right heads turn.

Then shattering glass intertwines with metal and steel.

Crash,

C r 

        a ck,

Sp-lit.

As I wait to hear the sound of lightning running from behind me.

Because Lightning roars at the sound of terror.

A Reflection on The Pink Institution and Post Modernism

This book can be seen in a postmodern light because of the way it challenges the modern style that we read in so many books today. This book attacks the common roles that we find in book such as male versus female or blacks versus whites, but rather it attempts to create problems relating to modernism by creating characters that the reader often finds problematic and that we often have to figure out on our own from their exterior. In this postmodern work I found that Saterstrom created an open work, meaning she left the reader to think and supply our own connections and ideas as to how to interpret what we just read about the situation and the characters. “Postmodernism focuses on a vision of a contradictory, fragmented, ambiguous, indeterminate, unfinished, "jagged" world”. Looking at the relationship that Saterstrom has created in this book really got me thinking about characters in my book. Saterstrom  introduces, Abella who is married to the abusive Micajah who is an alcoholic policeman. His beatings and likely sexual abuse takes a toll on their daughter, Azalea.

When we focus on the poetic elements, I can say that this book was very tangible from the beginning where the daughter is eating crackers and all the mother could focus on was her messy hair. I loved the description from the very beginning and the way Saterstrom made a visual picture throughout the text really gave this book an extra specialness about it. This book has a lot of devastating stories and serious issues, especially Aza who tries to commit suicide all the time because of her terrible upbringing. The way the Saterstrom gets into describing scenes with such tangibility is great. Also she often leaves large spaces in between the words that allows the reader to figure things out on their own and that’s the thing I most liked about this book. I thought that Saterstrom's novel depicts a family that is dealing with their own disfunctions and I loved the picture that Saterstrom paints.  

Blogging about Emily Dickinson

The poem I memorized was "I dwell in possibility"

When I first read it, I had no idea what I was reading. I didn't know what cedars was and I didn't really know what the meaning of this poem was. So after I researched some words and read this poem over this is what I got from it. I think that she means that there are endless possibilities in the way that we live. I think that she is dwelling in all the possibilities, and that she's thinking of all of these things inside her head. She is invisioning the sky as the limits, and a house with many doors and windows. I think towards the end when the last stanza ends in "to gather paradise" that she was thinking that all her possibilities would somehow end in a great place such as paradise.  

Dickinson was very clever in the way she wrote this poem. The poetic devices and the words that she uses to describe the sky, the house. I love the vocabulary that Dickinson uses. If you really break down this poem then it would be endless of interpretations that you can think of because this poem leaves room for many possibilities.

Editing Story 2

In this process of editing I really found it difficult for me to really tap into the characters that I've created. I tried to add more scenes but that just seemed like it was too much going on at one time. So I added more showing then telling because I feel that this is always a plus and this allows the reader to really visualize the scene and the characters as well. I also made parts more tangible as well as adding more dialogue.

Revisions #2

I personally think that revisions is necessary to become better as a writer, or in any field that you pursue. I personally like to type or write and keep writing and leave it alone for awhile and then get back to it to revise. Often I feel that printing it out and then reading it over is much better then reading it on a screen where you typed it up, or better letting someone else revise it for you. In this revision process I looked at the grammar and style of my work along with the tenses and of course the flow of it. It helps me to read my work aloud so that I can hear how it sounds rather then read in my head how it sounds. Even though revisions can sometimes take forever, and your work ends up being cut down from 10pages to 2pages, I understand the importance of revision and how crucial it is in order to be a better writer.

Revisions...

When I first wrote my poems I didn't really think about tangibility and poetic devices and style. I just wrote what I felt, or what the topic was and I went on from there. I didn't think of how I could make it better because I thought since I wrote it that way then that's the way I wanted it to be.


Through my revision process I took out all the cliche's and I edited it and added punctuation marks. Some other comments that I got was to make my ode more abstract. One of my lines didn't really make sense with its next line so I made changes to that and made it more

Stories that I've told...

1. I don't know why we have all this snow. I mean one minute the sun is out and the next thing you know it's hailing. I really hate the weather!


2. So I called my mom to see how she was doing and all she could say to me was that I don't love her because I waited three days to call her. "Mom, I'm busy all the time," I responded, but of course she wasn't having it and continued to complain.


3. So I got a call from my best friend and her boyfriend was trying to hook me up with one of his friends. I think you should meet him first and then tell me how he acts so I can decide whether or not I want to give him my number or not. Of course my best friend's boyfriend rudely interrupts and says, "NO! you have to meet him first." But I really don't like meeting people without getting some sort of knowledge about them. Ughhh I guess I'll see him when we go out thursday.


4. (This is for my Resident Assistant Job). So I'm talking to my friend  James. So did you know that our bulletin boards are due at 4pm today. I didn't even start mine and I have no idea what I want to do. I know I want to do a black history month theme since it is black history month but I think that since our next bulletin board is due mid march then that'll be kind of weird. Oh well I'll just figure something out.


5. Isn't it crazy how one day can change your entire life. Now he's in jail because he couldn't control his temper. His sister was drunk and she came home yelling and screaming saying she was raped and of course he has a anger problem so he just went crazy. Even though you were closer to him I still feel for him because he's my ex-boyfriend's best friend and now he's locked up for 15 years to life. I can't believe someone so close to religion could be in jail. I guess young christians band is no more. Life's crazy girl!

I thought this was funny...

Stories I would like to Write

1. Non-Fiction
2. Romances
3. Drama (between families, friends, lovers)
4. Realistic Fiction
5. Mystery (murders and criminal) 

Giving my respect...

I can honestly say that I loved this book in highschool. I really enjoyed reading it and I can say that this is one of my favorite books! R.I.P J.D. Salinger 1919-2010. You left us with something really memorable and I thank you for writing this book.

UNTITLED

[This is a poem I wrote last year just fooling around...enjoy]

The dry, now wet bed made a tune with my damp, clammy skin

It felt like the springs from the bed vibrated from inside the cushions

Through my body, and popped open like a bottle of champagne.

I sprung up and it hit me.

It was a disease that infected me

My choice.

Stupidity which contributed to malfunction

You, A grotesquerie

Injecting me with seeds

Watering my roots with trickery

I sprouted up a plant from your misshapen garden

Now elderly,

Retarded from the rays of your unforgiving heat.

The day I met you I danced like an idiotic baboon

Leaping, urging to be released from the cage of restriction

Labeled “self control”

It’s that very cage that has me unconstrained,

Adrenalin running

While the drips from the rain kept me in tune

With the taps from my foot

Untamed and

Unhindered.

Sprinting through a field of bent roses

Blog #2

Poem I admire alot by maya angelou. I can say that Maya angelou is a women of true artistry. I love how she puts her heart out in everything she writes. She creates a clear picture for me to read and I admire her style and her voice in everything she writes. She is truly an inspirational women.

STILL I RISE

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

http://mayaangelou.com/

Introduction

Omg! so i made this blog and I never introduced myself!...
anyways soooo.....
my name is cathiana aka cat and i am a writing concentration major with a minor in public relations....i'm very excited to be in this class and i can't wait to see what it holds!

Praise Poem: I heard the voice of Jesus say

Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.  Matthew 11:28

If any man thirst, let him come unto Me, and drink. He that believeth on Me, as the Scripture hath said, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water.  John 7:37b-38

Then spake Jesus again unto them, saying, I am the light of the world: he that followeth Me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.  John 8:12

I heard the voice of Jesus say,  "Come unto Me and rest; Lay down, thou weary one, lay down   Thy head upon My breast." I came to Jesus as I was,   Weary, and worn, and sad; I found in Him a resting place,   And He has made me glad. I heard the voice of Jesus say,   "Behold, I freely give The living water; thirsty one,   Stoop down and drink, and live." I came to Jesus , and I drank   Of that life-giving stream; My thirst was quenched, my soul revived,   And now I live in Him. I heard the voice of Jesus say,   "I am this dark world's Light; Look unto Me, thy morn shall rise,   And all thy day be bright." I looked to Jesus, and I found   In Him my Star, my Sun, And in that Light of life I'll walk,   Till traveling days are done.    —John B. Dykes

I like this poem because of the technique that Dykes used. I like the flow of the poem and how each stanza started off with I heard the voice of Jesus say and most of all I enjoyed the meaning of this poem. I thought that the message was clear and how it is uplifting in a way to many people who can relate to religion and soul searching words.

Life

Sometimes you fail. Most times you learn. Often, you get aggravated!

http://www.tonimorrisonsociety.org/