You, the Fan


Part E
My author was Edgar Allan Poe.

They wrote more dark and humorous works of art that really intrigued me. “The crow” was interesting as it talks from the perspective of a crow watching over a dying man. I was intrigued by this as before I read this, I wrote about my “Under the Bridge” piece, which is of the perspective of a dying man. This is interesting to me as we both had the same types of ideas of story and I thought of it before I even read his works.

I learned that it is ok to write dark as those works seem to really speak to who people really are and not fakes who put on masks. As well as it is just very realistic.
I was surprisingly actually really interested in the Nicholas Sparks books weirdly… I am a hopeless romantic I guess! Something about how he writes, Im not too sure, maybe it was just how he writes. The presentation was really interesting to me as well.

You, the Critic of your work


Part D

Pokie the clown

I wrote this when we were told to write parts in our journals writing people and then random objects, and then matching them up, and I matched up Clown with a knife and that intrigued me. So I tried to find a way to make it work, and it did. What it is about is a clown who works for his own show, and specialized in knives and juggling, which gave him the name “Pokie”. However, I made it clear from the beginning something I him had taken a turn for the worse, and I leave that for the reader to decide what happened. I like to think that maybe his stress of his job, with the cruelty of his co-workers really took a toll on him. Another possibility could have been that his family had recently passed away and he finally snapped from watching them.


I wrote this because I was always intrigued with an apocalyptic story and wanted to find some way to achieve that possibility, decided to try and make it a more realistic approach, with the apocalypse happening due to lack of fresh water. The land it dry and water is scarce and at any sight of it, could mean life or death. In the story we are encountered by two men fighting over just a small bottle of water, one threatening the other for it. In this world, life is water. People are desperate and willing to do anything, even kill others in order for their survival. It is a deep topic and it interested me greatly.

Under the Bridge

I felt that I executed this really poorly and not to my liking. However what I was trying to do was make the story of a boy who was actually speaking in a future tense, who was really trapped underwater and drowned. I was trying to write in the prospective of a body that is dumped into water and what their thoughts would be in their eternal watery grave until found.

Never Give Up

I feel as if this is one of my deepest works. It is not a creative aspect, but more of a personal of my life and what I have gone through. I have had a rough few years and I wanted everyone to know. I wanted to also explain myself and why I haven’t posted much and explain how weak I used to feel in my writing and my confidence in English as it used to be my favourite subject until high school.

You, the Student


Part C

I believe a lot of stuff got my creative juices flowing during this class, whether is was collaborating with fellow students, to the walks we would take down to the river and were we would soak our feet in the water and I would just enjoy life and think in my head for a whole hour and not really much else but just, think… It was refreshing and it allowed my brain to relax and the ideas to flow towards me as I watched the water ripple. It made me not only think creatively, but also helped me discover deep truths about myself where I would not be the same person I if I didn’t go to that river.

I seem to really analyse and focus more as a reader, I used to want to try and catch up with everyone who would fly through pages all a round me during exams and I wouldn’t want to seem like a slow reader, but I realized that it is ok to read at my own pace, and when I do, I really excel. I really seem to have good reading skills and retain a lot of the information when I read more closely than just skim it to keep up with the others around me.

I feel as if my grammatical prowess had accelerated and I am able to really put together sentences fluently and allow them to make sense. I feel a lot more confident in my abilities and able to really go into writing situations like exams and etc. with ease and no worry that they won’t go well or that I am wasting too much time looking through thesauruses and such to make my sentence more sophisticated.

You, the Blogger


Part B

I personally feel that I didn’t really develop as a blogger all that much to be honest. Partially because I honestly wasn’t too involved with the whole blogging aspect of the class. Unfortunately it was a huge part of the class and I seemed to really struggled with keeping up to date with the deadlines and etc..

Due to my lack of posting, I feel that my blog isn’t where I want it to be really. Sadly I wished and felt that selfishly that I would severely excel in this class due to how I felt creatively. However that appeared not to be the case and I struggled, which mean my blog too struggled sadly. Thus, I am not very proud of my work.

I’m going to be honest here and say that I will not be likely to continue with this blog when I finish with this course. With the career I am aiming to go into, it seems to push towards what and how I want my creative juices to flow. I never really felt my calling was writing, but more film, so I will be able to finally pursue that. I can however, see myself continuing a blog that I made of my own. Not through Edublogs but through a website like WordPress or something that seems to intrigue me a bit more with the options that they give me opposed to Edublogs. I will keep you posted.

I think I would follow blogs like Mrs Hunnisetts and a few students. However I am not too sure how many of them too will continue their blogs as well. I feel as if there may be a few that will move on from this. Personally, and not being biased, but I would like to follow Crystal’s blog, due to her writing is realistic like mine. She seems to really say the realism of the world like how I write. She also isn’t afraid of writing more messed up writing of mentally ill individuals, which intrigue me.

You, The Writer


Part A:
I believe that my writing identity can be classified as more of a creative short story style of writer. I seem to focus a bit more on character development as well and try and take normal individuals and find interesting ways to break them and make them hit their extreme breaking points. Taking a character from pledging to never do something, and by the end of the book, failing and doing the thing, and actually enjoying the fact he or she did it. It is a very specific detail that is fun to continue and I feel that it is a very realistic portrayal of what can actually happen to a person in a crisis situation. A lot of the time, people aren’t able to deal with situations like most action heroes do, and instead really are mentally and psychologically effected by it, and that aspect really interests me.

I feel like I have developed as a writer after taking this course with the aspects of my grammatical skills seem to have increased following this year. They were really about average, however now I feel as if my sentence structure is very well written, my punctuation is excellent, and I am able to quickly think of more sophisticated words if needed on the fly, rather than using a thesaurus and such.

I feel as if my voice is very realistic in some aspects. As I said, I don’t allow endings of happy fairytales. I enjoy realistic approaches. I feel as if writing in both Third and First person I tend to do well. However, I personally prefer to write in more third person as it allows me to also sit back and watch the story be told, just as much as the reader is.
I would suggest to future writers to write from the heart, and to me, I feel as if the words flow out of me much faster when I don’t spend the time and try and make a story grammatically superb. Instead I let the words leak through my fingertips and onto the page, and after words I will go over it and fill in whatever words I feel like will look better and make a sentence flow more towards the readers liking.

Pokie The Clown


-Free Choice 3-


“Pokie! Pokie! Pokie!” the crowd roared in excitement.

He sat backstage in his dressing room. He felt the excitement from the crowd as they chanted, yet his excitement was non-existent. What was there to be excited about? He gave others happiness when he didn’t even have his own. He was a hypocrite. A fraud. He felt the pain from his loss taking its toll on him. Suddenly, loud banging erupted at his door.

“Ey! Clown! Come on! Everyone’s waiting! These people want their show!” a mans voice yelled above he crowd from the other side of the door.

The clowns nostrils began to flair, but he took a deep breath and fixed his eye makeup calmly.

“Just a little bit looooonger!” the clown said in a stereotypical high pitched tone. The voice at the door erupted again. “No! Now! I’m done waiting! So is everyone else! They paid for a show!” The clown began to only hear his own heartbeat. Pulsating. It rose in speed.

“Come on man! I got a family to feed!”

“Family…?” the clown mumbled… his hands were shaking tremendously. He glared at himself in the mirror, not blinking and just staring deep into his eyes, trying to get a glimpse into his soul, to pull himself out of his thinking.

“Should I? OF COURSE I SHOULD!” he smiled but then snapped again. “NO NO NO NO NO!” he repeatedly yelled as me slapped the side of his head with the palm of his hand.

“Just do it! Your family is gone… You have no one but yourself! There is no point! No point at all!” he laughed a horrific clown laugh as he continued to talk to himself in the mirror, as if he was talking to another person. “What have you got to lose? Nothing… NOTHING!” he laughed horrifically. He then picked up his signature knife that had “Pokie” inscribed on the hilt. The blade was sharp and long, perfected, this would be perfect…

He started at himself in the mirror one final time. This time, not with a look of sadness, but with an evil grin. “Family you say? Not me… Not anymore.” he whispered to himself as we walked towards the door. Knife in hand. Ready.

The door suddenly opened.
“Why Hello there…” he said, before lunging at the man, laughing.




“Please! Dont! I have a family, who NEEDS this! the man pleaded, hands raised above his head.

“Well bow…” the other man spit a discolored substance to the side of him.
“Ya see… Lets do a little problem solvin’ ere! The chances of you REALLY havin a family, that has survived THIS long, would surprise me.” he was silent for a moment. “Second! We all NEED water, so whats so special about you, over my survival?” the long haired ginger man said in the lone, echoing room with just the two of them present. His arm wasn’t shaking at all surprisingly, despite how heavy the projectile killer seemed, resting in his hands. He seemed unnatural with it, as if THAT was HIS family.

Realizing that his lie had been seen though, the other man dropped to his knees, tears in his eyes. “Please!” he begged. “… Ok! Y-you can take it! Just l-let me go!” he struggled to bring words together. He then grabbed the bottle of water and through it at the man, bouncing it off his well build chest. “Please! I-Im unarmed!”

“Yeah well… I saw you talkin’ to your group awhile ago, you’ll just tell them what happened… Sorry pal.”

“N-no! Wait! That was-…” he pleaded but it was too late. Without hesitation the other man shot point blank through the other mans right eye, silencing him immediately. He stared down at a smug of black on the floor nearby, trying not to make eye contact with the mess he had just made, feeling almost ashamed. He closed his eyes and sighed, bent down and grabbed the bottle of water that the confrontation started over. He looked down at the man and stared, beginning to walk over closer towards his body, and knelt over it. “Its not my fault bud, its yours…” he said as he reached behind the body of the man and pulled out a gun from his back.

“Chances of you having a family these days are slim, but chances you haven’t killed these days either are slim too.”
He paused. “We are all killers now…”
He reached into the bodies pockets, looking for a few more bullets he may have had for the gun he was hiding, before finding a lone piece of thick paper. He took it out and opened it up, showing a family photograph of what once was. With the man, a woman, and two little girls.

He placed the photo in the mans hands and stood up. Tears in his eyes.

“I know… I lost mine too…”

Under the Bridge



-River Write-

The water was shallower than I remember. Maybe I am getting closer to shore? Or maybe the water is just lowering.

Why did I do this stupid dare? Why did I have to prove myself to those stupid kids? Most sane people would have just blatantly said “No.”, but I am not most people.

“Do it!” they all yelled and cheered.
I remember that phrase and that phrase only, as if it were yesterday. Its sad that I remember this, but not my name.

I feel like a sponge or one of those “sham wow’s” who can absorb liquids to an extreme.
I feel like an elderly person, with the amount of wrinkled I have developed.

I am in the water so often these days, I’m surprised I haven’t grown gills as well.
So often that I have given the fish I see so regularly names.

Speaking of which…

“Hey Gerry…”

“DO IT!” echoed through my mind.

Then it all came back to reality of what happened.

I remember fear.
“DO IT GERRY! What are you? Chicken?”
I remember the sweat on my palms as I placed them on the concrete railing of the bridge I was standing on.
The tugging at my feet as they placed the heavy brick of an object, tied to a rope attached to my feet, laughing to themselves.
My hesitation. My reluctance and my telling of them to let me back down.
It was in the moment they through the brick off the side of the bridge, and yanked me down as I smashed my head on the side of the railing I knew.
This was my end.
Now this is my eternal resting place.
Under the bridge.

“A fellow” (Othello Review)



Not being one typically to enjoy Shakespeare, I recently had the amazing opportunity to visit a local Shakespeare corporation that specifically focuses on live action plays of Shakespeare with certain spins on it. I recently got the opportunity to see the play “Othello” and it was an amazing opportunity. Going in I didn’t know what to expect. The theater shown wasn’t the biggest on seating, weren’t the most comfortable chairs, but if you weren’t thinking of that, and just enjoyed the show, it was marvelous.

Parts that sort of threw me off was the lack of setting change. Unfortunately, the play seemed to only have one background, (I’m guessing due to budget) but there were certainly scenes in which that background didn’t fit at all. Gray military sandbags, PERSONALLY, I don’t want those in my bedroom. I know, I know, its a typical Shakespeare thing to do, what with not changing the background throughout the play, but that could have maybe been an improvement to change up on.

Other than a few setbacks with background, the rest seemed to be really good. The director was amazing in ways I wouldn’t have imagined, the ways that Iago was talking to himself, colors changed, and it REALLY felt like we were in the mind of a psychopath, planning his plan from the beginning, precisely and strategically (Been binge watching “Dexter” on Netflix, sorry). Weirdly enough for me, I felt most connected with Iago. I think we all have secret personal demons inside of us. We all sometimes weirdly enough fantasize about people we despise getting hurt or any kid of revenge that they could get, and wish that it would happen. We always imagine it. We were able to see that in Iago’s character, inside his mind, and it also showed the hard truth about our minds too. Of course, we don’t follow through with our thoughts most of the time, but Iago does, and that’s why we love the character so much, or at least for me, he was my favorite, as he was executed so brilliantly.

In general, I would give this play 7.5/10.

“Never Give up”


Free Choice 1

“Never give up; for even rivers wash away dams” -Arthur Golden

This quote really motivated me, and is a huge philosophy that I live by actually. Perhaps not worded that way, but it is along those lines. I honestly have had huge troubles through high school honestly, in which I maybe will get into another time. Dealing with this situation now, however, is my motivation to try hard in this class. Honestly, I gave up, I havens posted anything for this class and it has lead me to utter failure, and despite my motivation, and the people that keep encouraging me to continue, it has gotten to the point where I blank them out. It shouldn’t be like that. I should encourage those people, and thank them for the motivation and enthusiasm that they give me.

I remember when I was in elementary and middle school, (not to brag) that I had a gifted mind. Sure not in academics, but in the creative stream of things. I prided myself in the fact that I was able to think of intense dramatic climatic stories in my head, and when it came time to write a paper for English, I would ALWAYS write creatively. I would sit in my desk for 20 minutes while others panicked, wrote down on their planning sheets, and I watched them, and thought about the question presented to me.

“How would I react in this situation?”

I would think to myself, before the sparks flew, and a story and character were born. It was magic, like my brain was a library and I could easily pick good parts of books and make them relate to the question I was given. Granted, I was never a big reader, and when I was younger, I would always desperately yell at my mom to never read me any books. However, despite my knowledge from reading, I was able to have the mind of a complex child, thinking stories on a whim. By the end of the class, after I had presented my paper, I felt so proud of myself, and while others walked out of the room, talking about how stressful that was, all I could think was how much my hand had hurt from the amount of writing I had done as my mind spilled the words through my hand onto the paper fluently.

It wasn’t until I got my paper back however that I read my horrible marks I would achieve, and realize that, maybe my proud story, perhaps, wasn’t that great. I believed deeply in my story I created but could never get it to relate to the actual question and would trail off, and I ended up taking it personally. Still to this day, I write creatives, but they are weaker than they used to. In school, I don’t try as hard as I used to because I dont feel the passion I once did.

I gave up.

Still to this day I have troubles with school in general due to my giving up on everything. Hence, like I said before, my lack of posting in this class. This quote however. “Never give up”, echoed through my mind and helped me understand, as I struggled and re-read through my journal and found this through the first little days of our Creative Writing class. It made me realize. No matter the difficulty you deal with small or gigantic, you have to fight. If you give up, you will go no where but down while the others climb ontop of you. No matter who you are, ANYBODY can be the best at anything as long as they, “Never give up”.