Entry Number three, Week Nine: 50 Things I'm Proud Of...

1. I am proud of my fiancé. He is a wonderful person, the “package deal”: generous, loyal, compassionate, hardworking, terribly funny, and handsome. I have never met anyone else who would jump in a bath tub, fully clothed, to console me when I was hysterical after reminiscing about my “glory days” in high school track. He then proceeded to sing me, “Too Shy” and washed my hair. It sounds weird, but it I think the “weird moments” are the ones that make our relationship unique and worthwhile. Did I mention he has excellent taste in jewelry? J

2. I am proud of my immediate family. Because I am in college, my parents and siblings have suffered financially. Christmases and birthdays aren’t as plentiful and extravagant. There are no more family vacations. My dad can’t replace his worn-out truck. My mom had to go back to work. Yet, no one complains, groans, and acts resentful. They are the epitome of sacrifice.   

3. I am proud of my sister’s (Allison’s) athleticism. It is amazing to watch her play volleyball and basketball. She has a grace, confidence, and mastery of fundamentals that I envy. But she is not the stereotypical “dumb jock.” Allison is extremely intelligent.  

4. I am proud of my brother’s (Alex’s) discipline. This is majorly applicable in extracurricular activities like football, basketball, and track. But, he trains so diligently and passionately. Alex has a focus and drive that is admirable for an eighth grade boy.

5. I am proud of my brother’s (Aaron’s) inventive nature. He is crafty and transforms random household objects into weapons, traps, and other apparatuses that I will never understand. Once, I was lucky enough to help him whittle arrows for a cross bow. He was only seven at the time.

6. I am proud of the drawings and crafts from my preschool students.

7. I am proud of my raggedy teddy bear, Emily.

8. I am proud of breaking up with my ex-boyfriend. However, I’m not proud of the last line of my break- up speech: “I hope you get hit by a bus.”

9. I am proud of my obsession with monsters.

10. I am proud of my 2003 Ford Focus.

11. I am proud of my addiction to Diet Coke.

12. I am proud of reading the entire Twilight Saga.

13. I am proud of my babies: Dominik and Addisyn. Biologically, they aren’t mine, but I was a nanny/single parent for these two kiddos all summer. If my children are half as beautiful as these two, then I will be lucky.  

14. I am proud of keeping the same best friend and not being wishy-washy.

15. I am proud that I do not always have to be around people. Being alone does not bother me.

16. I am proud that I sleep with a night-light. Guess what? I’m scared of the dark; I know what lurks in it.

17. I am proud that I held a penguin. FYI: they are NOT soft and snuggly.  

18. I am proud that I went to Falmouth, Jamaica.

19. I am proud that I saw the Lion King and Phantom of the Opera on Broadway.

20. I am proud that I have a strange link with the Holocaust. My best friend thinks I died in the Holocaust and am reincarnated. I am starting to believe her.

21. I am proud that I never got passed in the 4x400 meter relay.

22. I am proud that I have three huge birthmarks on my back.

23. I am proud that I am in love with Stephen King.

24. I am proud that I saw The Lion King: 3D in the movie theatre and drank chocolate milk while I watched it.

25. I am proud that I am a crybaby during movies.

26. I am proud that I have finished a 1,000 page book: Stephen King’s It.

27. I am proud that I have been through one of Kansas City’s famous haunted houses. I am not proud that I swore loudly in front of small children.

28. I am proud that I watch HGTV, TLC, E!, and Bravo.

29. I am proud that every year I watch AMC’s Fear fest.

30. I am proud that I was good at track and cross country.

31. I am proud that I kept a secret for a whole year.

32. I am proud that I competed in Forensics for a year.

33. I am proud that haven’t skipped a class.

34. I am proud that I love wearing sweats.

35. I am proud that I am CERT certified.

36. I am proud that I have written three children’s books.

37. I am proud that I love Mizzou and the Royals.

38. I am proud of my cousins that work for the State Department.

39. I am proud that I am liberal.

40. I am proud that I am from Rock Port, MO.

41. I am proud that in the fourth, fifth, and sixth grades I used to stay up until two or three in the morning to read books.

42. I am proud of my engagement ring.

43. I am proud of the scars on my legs.

44. I am proud that I’m not a size 0.

45. I am proud that I am flat-chested.

46. I am proud of my future home at 511 Parkeast Drive.

47. I am proud of my pets: my Boston terrier and two cats.

48. I am proud of loving the Randy Rogers Band.

49. I am proud of owning the Disney Vault.

50. I am proud of my old pair of running shoes.

-Abigail Lawrence J

Entry Number Two, Week Nine: Nature Walk Prose Poem.

The sky is the beginning pallet of the artist’s work- pale pinks, light violet, dark oranges, and pastel yellows. The garden is the beginning pallet of the homeowner’s graveyard. The strawberries, once a luscious red topped with green paradise are a dark, ugly taunting brown; the skeletons of a fulfilling fruit. The hostas, once plentiful with boisterous, busty, light-and-dark green leaves are fragile wisps that threaten to blow away with the wind. Bones of flowers, long forgotten, lie in the neglected flower bed. The lone tree, guardian of the yard has a skinny, lightly tanned trunk. Not a robust trunk like the ones at the park. Not a trunk for protecting the others. The bushes in the back hide the destruction, hide the jungle, and hide the horror. A graveyard for plants. A graveyard for resurrection? My future home.

-Abigail Lawrence J

Entry Number One, Week Nine: "Follow That Cab"

I found the predicament described in the work, “Follow That Cab,” to be amusing. I’ll admit that a few chuckles escaped me. I am picturing an older gentleman that has little to no experience with advanced technology racing around to find a trunk containing items vital to his work and life. I can also see the disgruntled wife, who has a more advanced grasp of technology, as well as, the depths of her husband’s forgetfulness. In respect to the style, I felt slightly jumbled throughout the entire piece. There were certain fragments I had to re-read several times. I understand that the author wanted to convey the panic and hectic emotions that he and his wife were feeling, but as a reader, it was disorienting. I also didn’t care for the last sentence fragment, “Not first time.” It didn’t really resonate with strong finality.

-Abigail Lawrence J

Entry Number Three, Week Eight: Freewrite. "Naughty Girl."

I am a naughty girl, a selfish girl, a liar. I have not been consistently keeping up with my writing schedule. Sure, once-a-week, twice-a-week, whatever I can muster.  But even then, I'm not truly free writing. It's not for me. It's for someone else. Some other teacher. Some other organization. Some other individual. My lapse in commitment is probably disappointing to others. Does it mean I love writing less than another classmate? Absolutely not. I love writing. I appreciate writing. I appreciate those with the caliber to write well. I try to justify not writing daily because I have "too many other activities occurring." However, I don't think that is the absolute truth. I think I am just scared I won't  have anything special or meaningful to write about. That my writing will be superficial and bland. Cheesy. Not real. I also find myself comparing my works to those of others. How immature. I feel like a little girl again. A small part of me feels guilty for not being better disciplined, but at the same time, I feel I am making the right decisions for my psyche. Writing brings up unwanted, dark feelings. They distract me. Make me think of my demons. Take away from my productivity. I stop working; I think deeply. I laugh. I scream. I curse. I cry. I covet others's abilities. On days I write, I am burdened, but I feel intuitive and wise.

-Abigail Lawrence

J

Entry Number Two, Week Eight: Rewrite poem. "Praise the Chocolate Shake."

“Praise the Chocolate Shake”

I praise the chocolate shake because of its seductive, powerful nature.

Goddess of frozen treats, the Aphrodite of the Dairy Diner

Which always serves as a temptress to my will.

The thick, creamy, cold, brown concoction aesthetically begins to tease my eyes.

My eyes plead with my hand to retrieve money.

Money is mean.

Money is selfish.

Money does not like to be spent.

But, then, one of the presidents sees my treats

The president smiles.

“Buy it, child. Devour it.”

I must oblige the dead.

I reach for the chocolate shake.

My fingers tingle.

I take one bite.

Savory

Instantly, my ass, thighs, and stomach get bigger.

Calories spread quickly.

Fat cells multiply, triple, quadruple

But the chocolate shake doesn’t care

She has conformed me, controlled me.

Oh, mistress, may I take another bite?

“You will be my disciple. Sing my songs. Praise my praises. Taste only me.”

I am no longer free thinking.

She lives within me.

-Abigail Lawrence J

Entry Number One, Week Eight: Review a poem. "I Went into the Maverick Bar."

For a group assignment this week, I was asked to explicate the poem “I Went into the Maverick Bar” by Gary Snyder. Honestly, if I would not have done some research about the Black Mesa issue and the song “We don’t smoke Marijuana in Muskokie [Muskogee]” then, the meaning (or what I perceive to be the meaning) of the poem wouldn’t have registered within my own mind. That is not to say I did not enjoy the reading. In the poem, the narrator goes to the Maverick Bar in Farmington, New Mexico. He hears the song “We don’t smoke Marijuana in Muskokie [Muskogee]” and watches an older couple dance. The narrator begins to recall a simpler time when he had “short-haired joy and roughness.” After the short-lived nostalgia, he leaves the bar and receives a “dose of reality.”

Even though I don’t see the poem as becoming a well-loved classic, I appreciate it. I do not think it will be extremely popular because it will be misunderstood. Some may mistake it for unpatriotic or cynical. If proper research is done, then readers may gain new insight. The narrator is headed to New Mexico to speak about the Black Mesa issue. While on the way, he hears a song about living a "good," pure (basically, Christianity's view of pure) life. He remembers being sheltered and turning a blind eye towards serious issues occurring in the world. Then, when the narrator leaves the bar, he remembers his focus on what needs to be done. I loved the nostalgic, mysterious language. It also seemed nonchalant. I pictured a calm, lonely bar in New Mexico during a cool, desert night. The line, “What is to be done” leaves readers pondering several questions: What does the narrator need to accomplish? And What do I need to accomplish?  After my little research session, the poem became relevant to me. I think the theme could be seen as “What is to be done” is not always simple and enjoyable. Perhaps, it (our short- or long-term life mission(s)) cannot be discovered until some of our innocence has been shattered, until we see the world through clear, unsheltered eyes and realize there is evil and badness.

I love the lines:

            “America- your stupidity

I could almost love you again.”

I think the lines are powerful, so brilliant. At a young age, I remember teachers, family members, older members of our community, trying to instill a deep-rooted pride in America. So deep, it could almost have been considered ethnocentric. My whole life I have tried to maintain that pride, yet often it falters: the current president will do something upsetting; a new group will form out of ignorance; or some unspeakable crime will be committed. I try to love America in the purest sense, then our country does something foolish, and the love seems out-of-reach. Like the “love jar” was moved from the first shelf to the tenth shelf, and suddenly, I can’t just stand on my tip-toes to get it.

-Abigail Lawrence J

Entry Number Three, Week Six: Honest, quick writing. "In the Clouds."

A). I am afraid that if I start dreaming… I will realize that I want something that doesn’t involve my boyfriend and living in Rock Port, Missouri.

B). I secretly enjoy reading… I enjoy reading stories my wonderful monsters (no, I’m not trying to imitate Lady Gaga). A couple weeks ago, I went to the Barnes and Noble in Zona Rosa with my boyfriend; automatically, I gravitated towards the Halloween table. I read an entire poem book about a zombie apocalypse. Then, I bought a book about vampires.

C). If I had had a perfect childhood, I’d have grown up to be… Boring, naïve, and unprepared for the “real world.”  

D). If it didn’t sound so crazy, I’d write or make a… I would write books about guts, gore, murder, and cults.

E). My parents think artists are… My dad appreciates artists; my mom tends to find them eccentric and egotistical.

F). My God thinks artists are… The God I like to believe exists thinks artists are brilliant.

G). What makes me feel weird about this creative writing class is… I share personal details (I don’t tell my family and friends) about my life with people I’ve only known for six weeks.

H). Learning to trust myself is probably… Not going to happen. I am too awkward, inconsistent, and incompetent.

I). My most cheer-me-up music is… Music from Phantom of the Opera.

J). My favorite way to dress is… Right now, I love to wear sweats and flip-flops. But, in a few months, I’m hoping to be able to wear cute day dresses, skinny jeans, high heels, and bangles.

-Abigail (Abbey) Lawrence J

Entry Number Two, Week Six: Letting Go. "Daydreaming."

A). My favorite childhood toy was… I had a medium-sized scratched, forest-green bucket filled with plastic Disney characters. No one, not even my immediate family, was allowed to touch my bucket or my characters.

B). My favorite childhood game was… I played “house” a lot. Basically, that would entail me being the bossy “mom” and telling my unfortunate “husband” and “children” what to do.

C). The best movie I ever saw as a kid was… The Lion King. It is truly a classic.

D). I don’t do it much but I enjoy… Going to the zoo. I love the exotic animals; I feel like I’m on a safari.

E). If I could lighten up a little, I’d let myself… Buy new clothes. I am so cheap.

F). If it weren’t too late, I would… Apologize to someone that tried to help me, but I was too stubborn and selfish to listen.

G). My favorite musical instrument is… The violin. I can’t play it, but I wish I could.

H). The amount of money I spend on treating myself to entertainment each month is… I try my best to spend as little money each month as possible; I am overly frugal. But, I will say that two weeks ago at Zona Rosa I bought two books for twenty dollars. My answer is twenty dollars.

I). If I weren’t so stingy with my artistic self, I’d buy him/her… An I-Pad.

J). Taking time out for myself… Makes me feel guilty.

-Abigail (Abbey) Lawrence J

Entry Number One, Week Six: Fun with Lists. "My Lovely Lists."

A). List five hobbies that sound fun

1.     I would love to be able to sew. Three women in my family possess this skill: my maternal great-grandmother, Marie, my “Nana”, and my paternal grandmother, Sarah. I am fascinated when I watch Project Runway and Mad Fashion; I admire the artistry of the tailors and seamstresses.

2.     Cooking and/or baking would be a fun hobby. Engineering a recipe requires science and art. However, I am not equipped with the time and financing to support this particular hobby.

3.     Although this skill is not in my DNA, I desperately wish I could draw in my free time. My roommate could make amazing, life-like sketches in a matter of hours. Drawing is a fun, stress-free, whimsical way to transcribe the feelings and beliefs of an artist.

4.     My best friend was always able to make the cutest bracelets. I think that would be enjoyable, as well as fashionable.

5.     Honestly, even though this is conventionally masculine, I would love to work on cars as a hobby. I know the absolute bare minimum about cars, but I love to get my hands dirty.

B). Five classes that sound fun

1.     Disaster Psychology

2.     Child and Adolescent Psychopathology

3.     American Sign Language

4.     The Literary Critic’s Craft

5.     Calculus

C). Five things you would personally never do that sound fun

1.     Sky dive (My cousin’s boyfriend sky dives; it sounds nuts!)

2.     Model high-fashion clothes (I may not exude fashion, but I appreciate it.)

3.     Move to another country (I watch House Hunter’s International and yearn for the impossible dream of owning a second home, or perhaps just making a new beginning.)

4.     Participate in a triathlon (The athleticism in competitors is astounding; I would be too embarrassed to even try.)

5.     Get a tattoo (It is true that there are some tacky tattoos; however, some tattoos are so symbolic and beautifully designed.)

D). Five things you used to enjoy doing

1.     Dancing

2.     Reading

3.     Running

4.     Making movies

E). Five silly things you would like to try once

1.     Ride a cow

2.     Have a food fight

3.     Karaoke with my girlfriends

4.     Be part of a flash mob

5.     Get a motorcycle and go to Sturgis

-Abigail (Abbey) Lawrence J

Entry Number Three, Number Five: Issues on Immigration. "Immigration."

I believe that I would take the initiative to become active in my new country's culture, but I don't think that I could give up my American citizenship. I've always been interested how other individuals in different cultures (with respect to my own) live: what they eat, how they speak, what they wear, what religions are present, how their government works, and what their background is. Out of respect and humility, I would attempt to immerse myself, as far as clothes, cuisine, politics, and background knowledge. I'm not sure about religion. That is still a grey area; perhaps if I thought the country's main religion had a belief system that was more representative of my person, I would consider changing. It's tentative. But I suppose then I must answer another question: If I do not declare citizenship of my new country, have I truly integrated myself? I would still venture to say that I had. Being a citizen of a country is not just having a piece of paper that says so. It involves pride, faith, and loyalty. I don't know how to state this without sounding cheesy, but I am proud to be from America. Even if I move to Sudan, I will still remember my roots and embrace them. I don't know if I want to completely erase my past heritage because it is still an underlying part of my present and future.

-Abigail (Abbey) Lawrence J

Entry Number Two, Week Five: Nature Walk Without Adjectives. "In the Backyard."

The flowers possess no life; they haven't been cared for. It is attributed to water. I miss the strawberries and hostas. Some color remains, but not like it was May, June, and July. Leaves are on the trees. The grass has not lost its color for the season. There is no moisture in the air, but a breeze can be experienced. The bushes in the yard need to be cut or trimmed. They'll grow into the power line. I smell food on the barbecue grill mixed with dirt and grass that has just been mowed. The hot tub has on its cover. If it wasn't covered, you could see it has not been cared for either. It needs chemicals. The deck holds furniture. Next summer there will be revival.

-Abigail (Abbey) Lawrence J

Entry Number One, Week Five: Response Post. "A Trip Down Memory Lane."

I am writing a response to John Wallace's building description scene. To me the piece was filled with nostalgia; my parents despised (with good reason) my first boyfriend. I had a "flashback" to my tumultuous two-year relationship, which brought back several feelings: anger, resentment, and for just a moment, happiness (not all of our relationship was negative).

The story was amusing; I found myself laughing several times. "I reasoned that tractors are heavy duty, so they would probably have heavy duty things that need wrenching." The preceding sentence was so genuinely honest and amusing. It was my favorite.

But the scene also evoked a feeling of sympathy. I can't say for certain the the piece is about the author (John), but I have a strong assumption that it probably is. Even though the scene was funny, I pitied John. I know that I struggle when people don't like me, so when I read the sentence "Every other conversation had been bland, and she told me this was because they didn't really like me," I had a "girl moment." I went, "Oh no," and clutched my chest with my hands. Relationships are hard enough, especially when your partner's family is exactly welcoming.

Good luck with the in-laws, John!

- Abigail (Abbey) Lawrence J