Monday, September 29, 2014

A "Place" Poem

In my creative writing class my teacher gave us Friday off of class in order to go somewhere for an hour and observe everything around us to write a "place" poem. I was sick on Friday and so I spent quite a bit of time in the bathroom at UVU. Thus this poem. A note, this is not a rhyming poem, as apparently no one even does that anymore. Poems seem to be all about prose instead of rhyme. Anyway, without further ado, here is my poem.

Diarrhea in a Public Restroom



The blue walls of my stall closed in on me
Imprisoning me,
They sought to hold me,
But they had no power to keep me there.
What truly held me was the feeling deep
Deep in my stomach.
I had never wanted to be here,
Especially like this.
Number two in a public restroom
Was on my bottom ten list.
Making it worse, the flow just wouldn't stop
The pain in my belly would not be satisfied,
No matter how much was expelled.
My distress increased
As I heard people come and go.
I knew that they could smell it
The moment they walked in
And that it made their trip,
Their quest for relief,
Something akin to torture.
There is a fan above me
Meant to suck away such smells,
But its power is paltry
When compared
To what my colon can do.
Finally a reprieve
My stomach pain ends
And sets me free
But unfortunately I know
That by days end,
I’ll be back.

Monday, September 22, 2014

Vignettes

Here is what I turned in to my creative writing professor for my short non-fiction vignettes assignment. Hope you like.

Minnesota’s Harsh Beauty

Cold Wonder
            It was so cold. Why would anyone live here? I had heard, of course, that it would be cold. It made sense that it would be cold. I had listened to the advice I had been given and had brought a lot of winter gear. I had convinced myself that I liked cold weather, so even if it’s bad for some people, it won’t be so bad for me. I had arrogantly thought that because Utah has some pretty cold weather, that I could handle whatever nature would throw at me. I was prepared for the worst, except I wasn’t. Why would anyone live in Minnesota? I couldn’t wrap my head around it.
            My car wasn’t even that far away, but it was taking an eternity to get there. Time was slowing down, freezing. I was wearing two coats, both too thin by themselves, and only just adequate when paired together. I was wearing two shirts and thermals. I originally had thought that I wouldn’t need a scarf; I didn’t want to wear a scarf, but I was wearing my scarf. I had learned about myself that I can’t handle having my mouth and nose being covered at the same time, even by a scarf, so my nose was probably turning blue. I had a beanie pulled over my ears, but my glasses left a small opening which the wind seemed to target. I had heavy duty gloves on, but my fingers were still numb. I had boots, which worked to keep the snow out, but couldn’t stand against the cold. Why would anyone live here?
            I reached the car, looking forward to the heater within. I opened the door, briefly looked behind me, and stopped. It was dark and snowing. The snow covered the ground, making everything white. The sky was black and empty, but the ground, illuminated by street lights, was pure and defined. The trees lining the street, with their snow covered, leafless branches, stretched into the blackness. It was as if the light were fighting away the oppressive darkness, but could only do so much against its weight. I left the car behind, walked to the center of the road, and pulled out my camera. Maybe this is why people live here.
Life in the Heat
            Summer in Minnesota is a curious thing. Partly because many Minnesotans have already given up on ever being warm again a few months before summer starts, and partly because it changes Minnesota so completely. Winter is cold, white, and dry. Summer is hot, green, and wet. In winter, the skin on my hands would crack and bleed because they were drying out and freezing. In summer, I was wet again five minutes after drying off from the shower because of the humidity.
            Before going to Minnesota, I had never felt what humidity on a hot summer day feels like. It’s awful. Utah is a desert, it gets really hot there, especially in the south. Minnesota doesn’t normally get above ninety degrees, though there are extreme days where is gets a bit above one hundred. The ninety degrees in Minnesota is far worse than the hottest days I experienced in Utah. Humid heat clings to the skin and laughs when a person seeks relief in the shade for there in no respite in the shadows in Minnesota. I remember my surprise when the sun set and the temperature didn’t go down. It stayed hot for hours because of the humidity. The only days that weren’t swelteringly hot were the days that it rained.
             It was sometime in my first Minnesotan summer that I finally got over my discomfort and noticed what had happened to the landscape. It was green. It was a deep, vibrant, green. I had never seen plants look so alive. Minnesota has a lot of plant life; there are trees everywhere. Every street is a green tunnel. The trees are massive and their branches are full, nearly covering the sky. There were trees in Utah, even big ones, but they didn’t look like this. They lacked something in Utah. Their green wasn’t as vivid as the green in Minnesota. Utah is brown and drab in comparison. The humidity became much more tolerable if it meant that the trees could look like this.
Flooding
            I was living in a tiny town in Minnesota called Aitkin, pronounced like bacon without the ‘b.’ I stayed in an apartment with a friend of mine and two more of our friends were sleeping over that night. It was a small apartment so it was cramped, but it was only for one night. During the night I woke up several times to flashing lights. A fierce lightning storm was raging outside. The sky was lit up more often than it was dark. I didn’t think anything of it.
            We woke up to find that the storm had been far reaching. Duluth, a city over one hundred miles away, had flooded overnight. Entire parking lots were submerged, with only the roofs of cars visible. Huge sink holes had torn away roads. All routes to Duluth were closed from every direction. The problem was that my two friends lived in Duluth. They looked up possible paths and found none. They were trapped in Aitkin.
            Aitkin was downriver from Duluth, and even as far as it was, it was still flooded. The river ran through a park that was now completely underwater. A campground on the other side of town was also gone. As the days wore on we measured the flood by using a bench. On the first day we could still see its seat. A week later the seat was underwater. Slowly after that the water went down.
            On the second day of the flood my two friends finally discovered a way to get to Duluth. They had to go at least eighty miles out of the way to get there. I was glad when they were gone. I didn’t mind them being there, but my apartment was not meant for four people. It could barely handle two. I don’t like crowds nor am I comfortable trying to find things to do for four people in a small town going through a crisis. My two friends had insisted that we do something, that despite the flood we were not going to just sit inside all day. I was completely stressed out the whole time they were there.
            As the water rose over the next few days several businesses were in danger of being flooded. A garden shop was already had two feet of water throughout the entire building. The owners of the carpet place across the street from the garden shop were desperately trying to place a sandbag barrier around their building, but couldn’t do it alone. A local catholic congregation offered to help. My roommate and I heard about it and offered to help as well. We filled bags with sand and tied before handing them off to someone who would lay them down. After we had built a sizeable wall someone brought out boxes of pizza. After all the hard work, that was some of the best pizza I ever had.
            The leader of the group that had volunteered to help build the sandbag wall was impressed with my roommate and me. Not only had two twenty something boys offered to do a lot of hard work for nothing, but we also had an incredible work ethic. At least, that was how he saw it. To be honest, it had been the most fun I had ever had in that little town.
Green Skies
            Storms come suddenly in Minnesota. The sudden ones are the dangerous ones as they are often accompanied by tornado sirens. While I never actually saw a tornado while I was in Minnesota I did hear a lot of tornado sirens. A friend and I were walking down the street with no real worries when is started raining. It didn’t gradually start raining, the moment the rain started it was coming down in sheets. A siren went off, and as it was the first time I heard one, I didn’t know what it meant. Before we could react a woman opened her door and shouted at us that there was a tornado warning in effect.
            Luckily for us we were nearly at our destination. We ran for another friend’s house, and as we ran I noticed something completely bizarre. The sky was turning green. Everything seemed to take on a green tint as we ran. When we finally found safety I asked the friends I was with about it and they acted like it was no big deal. I didn’t want to seem strange so I shrugged it off as well, but I was in turmoil in the inside. The sky turned green! This is a huge deal! How are you not all freaking out! Why have the laws of physics betrayed me?

            I saw the sky turn green several more times after that, and it always happened when there was a tornado warning. I was struck with wonder every time. Why had no one ever told me that something this incredible ever happened? How had I not known about this? I told my family back in Utah about it and they didn’t believe me. Such a thing couldn’t happen, for the sky is blue and will always be blue. It took a tornado to teach me that the sky can be green.

Thursday, September 18, 2014

Flooding First Draft

I wrote Flooding before I wrote Cold Wonder. Cold Wonder got me excited about writing and made me remember this blog so I posted it first. Flooding is part of the same assignment, which is a series of vignettes that follow the theme of place. It also needs a lot of work. Do remember that this is a first draft. I don't know if I'll post the revision, it depends on how much changes.

Flooding                                                               
            I was living in a tiny town called Aitkin, pronounced like bacon without the ‘b.’ I was living in an apartment with a friend of mine and two more of our friends were staying the night. It was a small apartment so it was cramped, but it was only for one night, so it was fine. That night I woke up several times to flashing lights. There was a lightning storm outside. The sky was lit up more often than it was dark. I didn’t think anything of it.
            We woke up to find that the storm had been far reaching. Duluth, a city over one hundred miles away, had flooded overnight. Entire parking lots were submerged, with only the roofs of cars visible. Huge sink holes torn away roads. All roads to Duluth were closed from every direction. The problem was that my two friends lived in Duluth. They looked up possible routes and found none. They were trapped in Aitkin.
            Aitkin was downriver from Duluth, and even as far as it was, it was still flooded. The river ran through a park that was now completely underwater. A campground on the other side of town was also gone. As the days wore on we measured the flood by using a bench. On the first day we could still see its seat. A week later the seat was underwater. Slowly after that the water went down.
            On the second day of the flood my two friends finally discovered a way to get to Duluth. They had to go at least eighty miles out of the way to get there. I was glad. I didn’t mind them being here, but my apartment was not meant for four people. It could barely handle two. I don’t like crowds nor am I comfortable trying to find things for four people in a small town going through a crisis with absolutely nothing to do.
            As the water rose over the next few days several businesses were in danger of being flooded. A garden shop was already completely water logged. The carpet place across the street were desperately trying to place a sandbag barrier around their building, but couldn’t do it alone. A local catholic congregation offered to help and my roommate and I heard about it and offered to help as well. We filled bags with sand and tied them off before handing them off to someone who would lay them down. After we had built a sizeable wall someone brought out boxes of pizza. After all the hard work, that was some of the best pizza I ever had.

            The leader of the group that had volunteered to help build the sandbag wall was impressed with my roommate and me. Not only had two twenty something boys offered to do a lot of hard work for nothing, but we also had an incredible work ethic. At least, that was how he saw it. To be honest, it had been the most fun I had ever had in that little town.

Saturday, September 13, 2014

Cold Wonder First Draft.

So yes, its been a while, blah blah blah. I have a laptop now, so I should be able to post more. More than that, I am in a creative writing class now, so I will be writing more, allowing me to post more. Here is the first draft of Cold Wonder that I wrote for my Creative Writing class. It is a part of a group of vignettes that we are writing with the theme of place. What do you think?

Cold Wonder

            It was so cold. Why would anyone live here? I had heard, of course, that it would be cold. It made sense that it would be cold. I had listened to the advice I had been given and had brought a lot of winter gear. I like cold weather, I had told myself, so even if it’s bad for some people, it won’t be so bad for me. I arrogantly had thought that Utah has some pretty cold weather, I could handle whatever nature could throw at me. I was prepared for the worse, except I wasn’t. Why would anyone live in Minnesota? I couldn’t wrap my head around it.
                My car wasn’t even that far away, but it was taking an eternity to get there. Time was slowing down, freezing. I was wearing two coats, both too small by themselves, and only just adequate when paired together. I was wearing two shirts and thermals. I originally had thought that I wouldn’t need a scarf, I didn’t want to wear a scarf, but I was wearing my scarf. I had learned about myself that I can’t handle having my mouth and nose being covered at the same time, even by a scarf, so my nose was probably turning blue. I had a beanie pulled over my ears, but my glasses left a small opening which the wind seemed to target. I had heavy duty gloves on, but my fingers were still numb. I had boots, which worked to keep the snow out, but couldn’t stand against the cold. Why would anyone live here?

                I reached the car, looking forward to the heater within. As I opened the door and briefly looked behind me and stopped. It was dark and snowing. The snow covered the ground, making everything white. The sky was black and empty, but the ground, illuminated by street lights, was pure and defined. The trees lining the street, with their leafless branches stretched into the blackness, as if the light were fighting away the oppressive darkness, but could only do so much against its weight. I left the car behind, walked to the center of the road, and pulled out my camera. Maybe this is why people live here.