Friday, April 16, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Falling from their Eyes
When I first saw Lydia, she was sitting in the university’s library without a care about the things around her. She was wearing black boots, men’s that is. I could tell her “wanna be jeans”, had been strangled that morning because of her thunder thighs. Its call a “Step Master”, get on it! There was even a stain right below her knee cap; maybe someone threw mud at her, Bulls eye! She had more chins than I Chinese phone book contained. That ugly scarf she wore around her neck to cover all the zits, looked like as if it was made by her blind grandmother or she got it from a flea market in the middle of Montana. She’s overweight something common around here. She wore a pair of stylish sun glasses, probably fake on her head that snuggled in her red shinny hair. Unfortunately her hair was the only thing pretty about her from the outside; I wondered what she was really like. Oh and did I mention her skin color, it looked like old cheese cake, not like the cakes one would find at a deli.
She was sleepy that day, after all it was two fifteen in the afternoon. Her fat sausage like fingers of her left hand was supporting her head. The other fingers were placed on her mouse mad of her computer. I would have paid big money to see her text. She had kept biting her finger nails; I guess an old habit of hers. Her rather large head sat on the side of her left shoulder like a pumpkin, any moment it might have fallen off. On her face contained a rather large chubby cheeks, it seemed as if she stuffed two muffins in her mouth for the long hall. She was listening to some kind of music, it was loud and it annoyed me. Her head phones had been vibrating which could have cause her hair and cheeks to vibrate if her cranked up the knob. Perhaps she was listening to Cold play, I wasn’t sure, but it was infuriating to hear. Maybe she was listening to something that would make her feel better about her self, lord knows she needs too, she look like crap. She was wearing a heavy zip-up hoody with skulls all over and even one large red skull on in the middle that split open when zipped.
She sat on this old wore-out reading chair, she and the chair were like two peas in a pot, just sitting there, while being surrounded by nicer looking chairs and people. It was as if she was in her old little world, and nothing could change it. She must’ve had a cold or the sniffles recently because of all the tissues lying on the floor that had surrounded her like salt for a protection. I noticed she had a messenger too, that make two of use, except hers was heavy metal looking with skulls and spikes and my bag is Vintage made in Tokyo. (Or so its says) Her bag was as big as her hand, small but stuffed with items inside. The bag had rested on the side of the wore-out chair with a tissue on top that was wiped off by Lydia and landed on her bad, it had covered a piece of a skull imprinted. She just kept sitting in that chair, rooted for life or at least till closing time.
She had one of the schools computer, the computer everyone hates the “think pads”; I call them “shit-pads”. The computer rested on her lap like a sleepy puppy and her blank white face was staring at the computer screen, I wonder what she was looking at, facebook, the usual. Facebook will do that to you, one minute you’re on facebook, an hour later you find yourself still on facebook, surfing through your friends’ pages and stranger’s pages too. She hardly blinked, a few times she even took a breathe she when scanned the room. I wonder if she knew I was observing her every move, probably not with fifty plus students around us. Her eyes, pierced during her scanning like a watch dog. The first floor of the library is huge so she had a rotated with her head I found it painful because of the angle she titled her head to look around. She finally returned her eyes back onto her computer screen. I think she had given up, I win!
She kept biting her finger nails again as if she was so nervous, but why did she kept biting, did she find out what her grade was in pysch, was it a forty three? It was gross; just staring at her while her sausage like fingers were going into her small mouth; it looked it a mission for astronauts. She had plenty of text books in the chair with her, and on the table in front of her. It looked as if she was having a tea party with her books. I was just afraid one of those books would come into life and ask her if she wanted to read a chapter out loud in front of the other books. Then it occurred to me, she looked like a Katie or a Rena, I wasn’t sure why. Actually I lied, I did know why, she looked like my older brothers ex-girlfriend who name was Rena and she was a big girl.
I finally gathered up my courage to walk towards her and sit in the worn out chair next to her. I sat down, I practically sank to the bottom, and I placed my coffee on the table in front of me and took of my coat. I had taken a deep breathe was ready to talk with her. I looked at her once, turned away swiftly, she had a spare zit on that fore head again, kind of like having a spare tire in the trunk, always there. I took a drink of my mocha, and finally broke out with words to her,’
“Um excuse me”, I said with a cough, “I’m sorry to bother you, but I was hoping to interview you. You see, I’m doing a research paper over a complete stranger and you seem to be right for it. Is it okay if I might ask a few questions?”
“Umm, yeah, I guess…” poor Lydia had answered. She spoke for a while answering some questions. Lydia was different, she was open and not was I expected of one would be. She simply was delightful to speak with. She pretty much told me a part of her life story that she felt was needed for her own satisfaction.
The way she had sat on that wore-out chair, it looked as if the computer would slide right off and crash off from her mountain of legs. Maybe with all the tissues on the floor it would cushion the fall. She was so calm, collective and well poised. She at peace with something, maybe a recent test she just took and by coming to the library and listening to “Cold Play” she allows her stress to fall on the floor like all her tissue she wiped from her lap and chair. She celebrated something through peace.
I continued to ask her about her medical issue she faces and she continued to tell her story. “We have tried everything possible, including nearly twenty anti-seizure medications” said Lydia. The many overnight video EEGs that she has had also show that she has lots of spikes during the night. According to Wikipedia, EEG is “electrical activity along the scalp produced by the firing of neurons within the brain. In clinical contexts, EEG refers to the recording of the brain's spontaneous electrical activity over a short period of time, usually 20–40 minutes, as recorded from multiple electrodes placed on the scalp.”
I also found out from Lydia, that the VNS, which is a peace maker for the brain and many tests to see if she is a candidate for brain surgery and she wasn’t. I ask her what VNS device does and Lydia, had answered, “It is placed under the skin on the chest wall and a wire runs from it to the vagus nerve in the neck”.
She continued to say, “I am now four months into the low glucose diet for seizures and it appears to be helping just a little”. Lydia says she’s been “wonderful” about eating the right foods and not eating the high-carb foods that she likes so much. She understands how important this is in trying to control the seizures that currently disturb her life. I am amazed at her courage, through all the many tests and hospitalizations, and now the new challenge to her self-control.
I am also amazed at her positive attitude and her eagerness to run, dance, swim, and do most everything that others do, despite the fact that she might fall at any time. She is the most courageous kid that I have ever known! Finally, I showed my new friend a picture of a painting of an old friend of mine back home in who painted a self portrait what she thought of herself when concentrating. I explained to Lydia this picture and the meaning behind it “because you had reminded me of this painting when I first saw you”. I told Lydia and continued to say, “I imagined that you had been concentrating like the girl in the painting when I first noticed you”. Both Lydia and the little girl in the painting seem like they could use their special powers to control the seizures, and when their eyes are black and purple, like in the TV series, Heroes, where their eyes turn color when they use their special powers. This young girl who is funny, though shy, her silence is really a cage to hide her real soul. She’s so full of vigor; it practically gives off like hyper vibes! Her smile, it shows her soul has a soft side – with understanding, understanding of many things, like the world begin made up of fantastic ingredients –each with their own flavor. She’s brave! Seemingly very able to get back up whenever she falls! Unless – it’s a turn. But, due to her courageous demeanor, she’ll kick the curb’s ass! And show, that she rules. She’s a dreamer, one-of-a-kind, and she’ll prove it. She’ll show by not only her style and spirit, but with that fashion! Didn’t I mention? Tons of gloves for any occasion!
I also believe that the dark eyes in Lydia and like ones from the painting might represent the darkness that she experiences when she loses consciousness. In this painting, the girl is also showing off red hair which reminded me of Lydia’s bravery from tuberous sclerosis. She had seizures nearly every day for the past fourteen (out of her nineteen) years. She wakes up nearly every morning to a couple of seizures and also sometimes has them during the day. Lately, she has experienced seizures that come with no warning and make her fall down, sometimes causing her to hurt herself. Lydia’s told me she “has to wear a helmet much of the time” so if she falls she wouldn’t hurt her head. She also has “cluster” seizures every few days, where intervention is required to stop them or they would continue indefinitely.
When I first saw Lydia, she was sitting in the universities library without a care about the things around her. Next time I see her, and I have a friend with me and they wonder “who’s that girl in the corner, so quiet and so strange?” I’ll say “Well, hell, that’s Lydia, you know! Hard to anger, unless you’re a meanie yourself. She’s sweeter than you’d think –go on and find out!” And what’s cool, that THIS lamo thought most? She digs some groovy books, which are misunderstood, well, by her generation, anyway, but not by a kid. And that’s giga cool, which she’ll show.
She’s smarter than most – she’s funny and proud! A warrior if only and a lot to be found. She still has innocence, and won’t shun anyone. And, hey – take it from this stray cat – Lydia is one kick ass person, it any at that! No lie, that’s for sure. She’s respectful of you. She’s respectful of me. In any case, a true person, indeed, and that’s something you’ll see – if you meet the soul that brims within Lydia’s beat.
She was sleepy that day, after all it was two fifteen in the afternoon. Her fat sausage like fingers of her left hand was supporting her head. The other fingers were placed on her mouse mad of her computer. I would have paid big money to see her text. She had kept biting her finger nails; I guess an old habit of hers. Her rather large head sat on the side of her left shoulder like a pumpkin, any moment it might have fallen off. On her face contained a rather large chubby cheeks, it seemed as if she stuffed two muffins in her mouth for the long hall. She was listening to some kind of music, it was loud and it annoyed me. Her head phones had been vibrating which could have cause her hair and cheeks to vibrate if her cranked up the knob. Perhaps she was listening to Cold play, I wasn’t sure, but it was infuriating to hear. Maybe she was listening to something that would make her feel better about her self, lord knows she needs too, she look like crap. She was wearing a heavy zip-up hoody with skulls all over and even one large red skull on in the middle that split open when zipped.
She sat on this old wore-out reading chair, she and the chair were like two peas in a pot, just sitting there, while being surrounded by nicer looking chairs and people. It was as if she was in her old little world, and nothing could change it. She must’ve had a cold or the sniffles recently because of all the tissues lying on the floor that had surrounded her like salt for a protection. I noticed she had a messenger too, that make two of use, except hers was heavy metal looking with skulls and spikes and my bag is Vintage made in Tokyo. (Or so its says) Her bag was as big as her hand, small but stuffed with items inside. The bag had rested on the side of the wore-out chair with a tissue on top that was wiped off by Lydia and landed on her bad, it had covered a piece of a skull imprinted. She just kept sitting in that chair, rooted for life or at least till closing time.
She had one of the schools computer, the computer everyone hates the “think pads”; I call them “shit-pads”. The computer rested on her lap like a sleepy puppy and her blank white face was staring at the computer screen, I wonder what she was looking at, facebook, the usual. Facebook will do that to you, one minute you’re on facebook, an hour later you find yourself still on facebook, surfing through your friends’ pages and stranger’s pages too. She hardly blinked, a few times she even took a breathe she when scanned the room. I wonder if she knew I was observing her every move, probably not with fifty plus students around us. Her eyes, pierced during her scanning like a watch dog. The first floor of the library is huge so she had a rotated with her head I found it painful because of the angle she titled her head to look around. She finally returned her eyes back onto her computer screen. I think she had given up, I win!
She kept biting her finger nails again as if she was so nervous, but why did she kept biting, did she find out what her grade was in pysch, was it a forty three? It was gross; just staring at her while her sausage like fingers were going into her small mouth; it looked it a mission for astronauts. She had plenty of text books in the chair with her, and on the table in front of her. It looked as if she was having a tea party with her books. I was just afraid one of those books would come into life and ask her if she wanted to read a chapter out loud in front of the other books. Then it occurred to me, she looked like a Katie or a Rena, I wasn’t sure why. Actually I lied, I did know why, she looked like my older brothers ex-girlfriend who name was Rena and she was a big girl.
I finally gathered up my courage to walk towards her and sit in the worn out chair next to her. I sat down, I practically sank to the bottom, and I placed my coffee on the table in front of me and took of my coat. I had taken a deep breathe was ready to talk with her. I looked at her once, turned away swiftly, she had a spare zit on that fore head again, kind of like having a spare tire in the trunk, always there. I took a drink of my mocha, and finally broke out with words to her,’
“Um excuse me”, I said with a cough, “I’m sorry to bother you, but I was hoping to interview you. You see, I’m doing a research paper over a complete stranger and you seem to be right for it. Is it okay if I might ask a few questions?”
“Umm, yeah, I guess…” poor Lydia had answered. She spoke for a while answering some questions. Lydia was different, she was open and not was I expected of one would be. She simply was delightful to speak with. She pretty much told me a part of her life story that she felt was needed for her own satisfaction.
The way she had sat on that wore-out chair, it looked as if the computer would slide right off and crash off from her mountain of legs. Maybe with all the tissues on the floor it would cushion the fall. She was so calm, collective and well poised. She at peace with something, maybe a recent test she just took and by coming to the library and listening to “Cold Play” she allows her stress to fall on the floor like all her tissue she wiped from her lap and chair. She celebrated something through peace.
I continued to ask her about her medical issue she faces and she continued to tell her story. “We have tried everything possible, including nearly twenty anti-seizure medications” said Lydia. The many overnight video EEGs that she has had also show that she has lots of spikes during the night. According to Wikipedia, EEG is “electrical activity along the scalp produced by the firing of neurons within the brain. In clinical contexts, EEG refers to the recording of the brain's spontaneous electrical activity over a short period of time, usually 20–40 minutes, as recorded from multiple electrodes placed on the scalp.”
I also found out from Lydia, that the VNS, which is a peace maker for the brain and many tests to see if she is a candidate for brain surgery and she wasn’t. I ask her what VNS device does and Lydia, had answered, “It is placed under the skin on the chest wall and a wire runs from it to the vagus nerve in the neck”.
She continued to say, “I am now four months into the low glucose diet for seizures and it appears to be helping just a little”. Lydia says she’s been “wonderful” about eating the right foods and not eating the high-carb foods that she likes so much. She understands how important this is in trying to control the seizures that currently disturb her life. I am amazed at her courage, through all the many tests and hospitalizations, and now the new challenge to her self-control.
I am also amazed at her positive attitude and her eagerness to run, dance, swim, and do most everything that others do, despite the fact that she might fall at any time. She is the most courageous kid that I have ever known! Finally, I showed my new friend a picture of a painting of an old friend of mine back home in who painted a self portrait what she thought of herself when concentrating. I explained to Lydia this picture and the meaning behind it “because you had reminded me of this painting when I first saw you”. I told Lydia and continued to say, “I imagined that you had been concentrating like the girl in the painting when I first noticed you”. Both Lydia and the little girl in the painting seem like they could use their special powers to control the seizures, and when their eyes are black and purple, like in the TV series, Heroes, where their eyes turn color when they use their special powers. This young girl who is funny, though shy, her silence is really a cage to hide her real soul. She’s so full of vigor; it practically gives off like hyper vibes! Her smile, it shows her soul has a soft side – with understanding, understanding of many things, like the world begin made up of fantastic ingredients –each with their own flavor. She’s brave! Seemingly very able to get back up whenever she falls! Unless – it’s a turn. But, due to her courageous demeanor, she’ll kick the curb’s ass! And show, that she rules. She’s a dreamer, one-of-a-kind, and she’ll prove it. She’ll show by not only her style and spirit, but with that fashion! Didn’t I mention? Tons of gloves for any occasion!
I also believe that the dark eyes in Lydia and like ones from the painting might represent the darkness that she experiences when she loses consciousness. In this painting, the girl is also showing off red hair which reminded me of Lydia’s bravery from tuberous sclerosis. She had seizures nearly every day for the past fourteen (out of her nineteen) years. She wakes up nearly every morning to a couple of seizures and also sometimes has them during the day. Lately, she has experienced seizures that come with no warning and make her fall down, sometimes causing her to hurt herself. Lydia’s told me she “has to wear a helmet much of the time” so if she falls she wouldn’t hurt her head. She also has “cluster” seizures every few days, where intervention is required to stop them or they would continue indefinitely.
When I first saw Lydia, she was sitting in the universities library without a care about the things around her. Next time I see her, and I have a friend with me and they wonder “who’s that girl in the corner, so quiet and so strange?” I’ll say “Well, hell, that’s Lydia, you know! Hard to anger, unless you’re a meanie yourself. She’s sweeter than you’d think –go on and find out!” And what’s cool, that THIS lamo thought most? She digs some groovy books, which are misunderstood, well, by her generation, anyway, but not by a kid. And that’s giga cool, which she’ll show.
She’s smarter than most – she’s funny and proud! A warrior if only and a lot to be found. She still has innocence, and won’t shun anyone. And, hey – take it from this stray cat – Lydia is one kick ass person, it any at that! No lie, that’s for sure. She’s respectful of you. She’s respectful of me. In any case, a true person, indeed, and that’s something you’ll see – if you meet the soul that brims within Lydia’s beat.
Self Relection Questions/Ideas
i learned that not all people are what you think they are, you cant judge and through that i learned that i can really describe someone positivity an negatively about that person without really understanding that person. I really can get my voice out there through this type of writing, it was amazing how much detail i can up with and i could have put more in. Trying to separate the judgments to facts was difficult as easy as it may sound.I struggled with my persons voice through the paper, int he dialogue, but i did wonderful on describing the persona and coming up with ideas. i feel good for the future in case if i write something similar like this in the future.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Profile Process on Protrait Paper
Having trouble on writing can always be troubling for any writer including myself. I love being able to come up with a story in one night, that's one of my strengths , coming up with stories in one night. The one night i allow myself to have all the tools in front of me and in my mind in order to write papers. For example, last night around two a.m i was listening to Baroque music with hot chocolate and my computer. I knew my memory and interview from my subject, it was all clear as glass for me. i had a lot to say, and it was brilliant. I was in my world, where it was just me and my music, classical music allows me to write. And problems will always occur but for every problem there's a solution
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Oh my June
They explore this world with open minds and leave traces of love and dust trails of hope for anyone else to find. They search for new meanings and understandings with every religion they come across. They love the world and all the things and places in it more than they love themselves. They dance with a glow, prancing around me like a dear bring a sad face into a happy bright smile. They know how to make my day, I cant go a day without hearing that they're alright.They are like a bottle, full of genuine goodness and they bring buckets of truth of the world from our well in our backyard full of wisdom.They are exquisite and they are my delight.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Morning Smile
-Ivo
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Self Relection to The Jasmine Tea Story
Friday, January 22, 2010
Quick laugh
Michael: Well look at you, finally you can keep in touch with Christopher and i without calling us. LoL You should add a "Wall post" so, i can at times write on your wall. And im gonna send Cortney's a invite to add you. :) Hope you're doing AWESOME, i miss you all, especially your cooking my dinner was rice, im officially not eating any more meat, its gross here bc they do not cook it right, and there's no sense in that. But i will eat meat when i come home. I just got home from ASNMU meeting ( we have it every Monday nights) and i motioned to approve an "open form/ comment "towards to end of meeting along with the usual begin public comment form. And i motion to change the tittle of "Freshman Probation" to something a bit more comforting but still has a strong tittle. Kids just get plan scared of "probation" And my comment cards for the bike share was approved and will be printed out this week. And my ratings came in the other day, i got a 4.3 out of 5, and that's tough to get these days with a lot of members quitting or being impeached. Anyway, classes are great, i love my sociology class, the teacher is Russian but he's better than that old fart i had from psych. class. And, My singing class starts on Wed, i have to find a song to sing soon, i can think of one, i thought if an Italian song or "the Prayer or even "once upon a December", who know maybe i'll sing "opps i did it again"...my sing teacher will ♥ that!! :) and of course i hate math, no shock there, i have a quiz on Wed, nervous as hell and i wasn't able to get in touch with Lin today with math ( tell dad that, he knows about that converse). And, today the math people in the tutoring is not as helpful as i thought,, bc the math girl who tutors wasnt in and was gonna be there at the time i could be there, get it?! but its not too hard, Remember Ms. Stecker(Algebra devil), well, its College Algebra, and a lot of it ,its reminder from the past, not too bad. Other than that things are fine, tomorrow is my easy day, good for my T.A jobs. That's right, T.A for spanish and pysch lab! I ♥ them it allows me to feel on top of my game, motivate me to study more and teach better. Of course theirs spanish 103-08 ( first year kids) they were hilarious last tuesday, i got to teach by myself for the first 15-20ish min, bc the spanish teacher wanted me to and she was still getting her things together from her office,( she's a nut but a funny one) It was so good, i felt something wonderful as i was trying to get them to understand the basics of spanish. I had to try-out (sorta speak) to a Spanish teacher in spanish in order to be a T.A. I guess i did well and Pysch lab , simple i go and assist kids in their labs, conducting experiments and helping them through it, i had the class last semester, so everything is fresh on my mind . The cool part is i get credit towards graduation instead of being paid. I haven't got a call or e-mail from my modeling yet saying i have a class to pose too...maybe they're tired of me...who knows. Anyway, things are fine, well balanced( true statement) and i feel good, i had a bad sore throat from doing a all niter with friends on Sat and talking forever...go fig!!!....p.s i have a crush on someone....well i've had it since i've meet this person, just haven't had the guts to do anything. lol! :) So, things are fine, im writing a lot in English and i've made a blog too! It's had my painting and fews pics of Chicago and i even display some stories( well i will) i have one paper! Anyway enough right!? keep in contact !!and comment on my status sometime!! ♥ you and Dad!!...and the grandmaaaa
Uncle Fred: Oh my goodness, you do write a lot! I can see you, too: furiously pecking away at the keyboard. It was good to hear from you; I was wondering how school was going for you so far. Glad to hear all is well. Get on the math--and yes, I remember your math teacher from HPHS. Be proactive and seek out the help you need. Things are basically the same here. I am working out more regularly and just starting to see results and i feel good. I'm going to help Grandma get her ipod all set up: she's looking through my music and we are creating a playlist for her.
Well, be good. Keep fighting the good fight. Focus. Plan well and follow your plan. Make good choices. Live the life you'd be proud of.
;-) Love you-- Uncle Fred (is the whole world going to read this? I don't think I'm going to keep my Facebook open. It is a lot of trouble for something I could just e-mail instead.)
Uncle Fred: Oh my goodness, you do write a lot! I can see you, too: furiously pecking away at the keyboard. It was good to hear from you; I was wondering how school was going for you so far. Glad to hear all is well. Get on the math--and yes, I remember your math teacher from HPHS. Be proactive and seek out the help you need. Things are basically the same here. I am working out more regularly and just starting to see results and i feel good. I'm going to help Grandma get her ipod all set up: she's looking through my music and we are creating a playlist for her.
Well, be good. Keep fighting the good fight. Focus. Plan well and follow your plan. Make good choices. Live the life you'd be proud of.
;-) Love you-- Uncle Fred (is the whole world going to read this? I don't think I'm going to keep my Facebook open. It is a lot of trouble for something I could just e-mail instead.)
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Liz and Nancy's Love
Two of the many people who saved me from fear and helped me overcome and grow from our experiences that will forever change my life for the good. Thank you! This painting is for you both, its our beauty and love for each other! Love you!!
Letters to Mead
Dear Erica,
To start off, I would love to say, I for one am happy not to be obsessed with my teachers unlike my friend Corey who will. I can tell already, I’m gonna love your class no doubt. Look, if even half of what Dr. Corey says in his paper about how he has missed you for the past twenty four hours, it’s true. I thought the global climate was going to dramatically change yesterday after class because we all missed you. The good thing is we are in the midst of the largest educational challenge of NMU of all time and that’s having the university trying put up with Corey, Randi, Brittney and myself because we rock this campus. We just might rock your world or at least our class. I’m gonna guess we should make a group between the five of us; call it “The Brady Bunch”. You might just have a better name for us by the end of the second week such as; Chain of Bobolinks
Now for the best part, me! I was born in a petite quiet village called Lom, a tiny aged village nestle against a mountain called Tsibrita (“wide mountain”) overlooking the Danube River. I grew up in an orphanage until I was at the ripe age of four and was adopted and brought into a new light, one where the dark would not appear so much, in fact ever. (Ask me later about this sentence if confused, you just might be)
Apart from my old country, I grew up a beautiful home in Dallas Texas; I loved every minute of my childhood, until the point of curfews. I figured a few years back I would follow my elderly brothers’ foot-steps in finding a college. I needed something “home” friendly, something catchy and new. I vowed to never come to NMU; I thought anyone who wanted to live in the Upper Peninsula was crazy; here I am now a freshman at NMU. I majoring in international studies, most likely the major will change just like my growth spurts, not! I simply can not answer what kind of food I would choose to eat for the rest of my days with no freedom of other foods. My hidden talent is cleaning under OCD, no joke. I love to clean and be organized all the time, would you like me to clean your house? Oh and another secret talent is I do Voodoo, so don’t mess with me, just kidding. My high school superlative was two things, most organized and the best dressed, go figure!
love English, I do, and my father is an English teacher. I’d love to learn and write poetry and songs. As a singer song writer I worship the time I spend dreaming up music to be and writing the poetry. I crave to learn in your class how to be a superior writer and how to write less dramatically, not that I do already. My aspiration is to write extensive lengths of stories and writing memoirs of my past and my ideal future, hopefully one day a novel or memoir.
Before we embark on this “journey”, let me point out, more letters such as this may pop in your inbox at random times. Because, I strangely have the time to write on my spare time from twenty one credit schedules, I feel I should call this paper the “Daily Bobolinks”.
Sincerely, soon to be your favorite,
Michael Skrobeck
Dear Erica,
To start off, I would love to say, I for one am happy not to be obsessed with my teachers unlike my friend Corey who will. I can tell already, I’m gonna love your class no doubt. Look, if even half of what Dr. Corey says in his paper about how he has missed you for the past twenty four hours, it’s true. I thought the global climate was going to dramatically change yesterday after class because we all missed you. The good thing is we are in the midst of the largest educational challenge of NMU of all time and that’s having the university trying put up with Corey, Randi, Brittney and myself because we rock this campus. We just might rock your world or at least our class. I’m gonna guess we should make a group between the five of us; call it “The Brady Bunch”. You might just have a better name for us by the end of the second week such as; Chain of Bobolinks
Now for the best part, me! I was born in a petite quiet village called Lom, a tiny aged village nestle against a mountain called Tsibrita (“wide mountain”) overlooking the Danube River. I grew up in an orphanage until I was at the ripe age of four and was adopted and brought into a new light, one where the dark would not appear so much, in fact ever. (Ask me later about this sentence if confused, you just might be)
Apart from my old country, I grew up a beautiful home in Dallas Texas; I loved every minute of my childhood, until the point of curfews. I figured a few years back I would follow my elderly brothers’ foot-steps in finding a college. I needed something “home” friendly, something catchy and new. I vowed to never come to NMU; I thought anyone who wanted to live in the Upper Peninsula was crazy; here I am now a freshman at NMU. I majoring in international studies, most likely the major will change just like my growth spurts, not! I simply can not answer what kind of food I would choose to eat for the rest of my days with no freedom of other foods. My hidden talent is cleaning under OCD, no joke. I love to clean and be organized all the time, would you like me to clean your house? Oh and another secret talent is I do Voodoo, so don’t mess with me, just kidding. My high school superlative was two things, most organized and the best dressed, go figure!
love English, I do, and my father is an English teacher. I’d love to learn and write poetry and songs. As a singer song writer I worship the time I spend dreaming up music to be and writing the poetry. I crave to learn in your class how to be a superior writer and how to write less dramatically, not that I do already. My aspiration is to write extensive lengths of stories and writing memoirs of my past and my ideal future, hopefully one day a novel or memoir.
Before we embark on this “journey”, let me point out, more letters such as this may pop in your inbox at random times. Because, I strangely have the time to write on my spare time from twenty one credit schedules, I feel I should call this paper the “Daily Bobolinks”.
Sincerely, soon to be your favorite,
Michael Skrobeck
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