Theme: Truth or Consequences.

1. Write about it as close to black and white, just the facts as you possibly can.

I’m sitting on a bench in an off-leash, fenced-in dog park. Rufus, my one year old French Bulldog, is running around with a heard of other canines. This is the first time we’ve been here, so I watch him carefully to make sure he is behaving himself. 

He is sprinting all over the park with a pack of four or five pups, when suddenly one of the dogs is summoned by its owner. The dog breaks from the pack and I watch Rufus chase after him. Once the pooch reaches its owner, she greets the beast and pets him on the head. With her attention diverted, I watch as Rufus walks behind her and he begins to lift up one of his legs. I know this maneuver all too well and try to get him to stop, but it was already too late. “HE JUST PEED ON ME ”, yelled the owner. Mortified, I walk over to offer an her an apology on Rufus’s behalf. “I just can’t believe he peed on me”, was all she responded back. 

I walk back over to my bench and try to play it cool; but the awkward situation got the better of me. Shortly thereafter I decided it was time for us to leave for the day.

2. Then write about it so that the basic facts are there, unchanged, but you throw in a little fancy stuff to improve the story--you make the girl a blonde instead of a brunette, you add a few horsepower to the engine, you buy a few more dollars worth of clothes than you actually could afford--all this done, not to lie, but to make the truth sharper and, if you will, even truer.

A mother could not be more proud, watching her little one play in the playground with the other kids. Proving, with their good behavior, that all of your hard work has paid off. Only, I’m not watching a toddler, I’m watching Rufus the French Bulldog puppy. He is having the time of his life, running around in this enclosed jungle gym, playing keep away and tug of war with the other pooches. 

He romps around with the bigger dogs in the park but he is certainly the runt of the pack. Sticking out like a sore thumb, it is entirely noticeable when he breaks away from the heard and follows a German Shepard to its person. As the owner lovingly pets her dog on the head, rewarding him for his obedience, my beast sneaks up behind her. I watch Rufus start raising one of his hind legs and we make eye contact. I try to stop him by calling out “RUFUS NO”; but to no avail. I knew I was going to have to go over and apologize for my creature’s inappropriate urination. I watch as all of our training circles the proverbial drain. 

I shamefully walk over and offer a sheepish, generic “I’m so sorry” and promptly  scold my wild animal. The owner was neither impressed or forgiving. Rufus made his mark for the day and it was time for us to leave. 

3. Finally, start with the same material but let it off its leash. It originates in fact, but winds up as fiction. Now the details aren't changed to tell the truth in a new way--they're just pure fiction.

A mother could not be more proud, watching her little one play in the playground with the other kids. That is, until your angel urinates on someone. My puppy Rufus was getting along famously with all of the other dogs, running around with them in an enclosed doggy jungle gym.

He romps around with a pack of dogs, one of which being little Beagle, whom Rufus has befriended. 

Suddenly, the German Shepard in the heard is summoned by its owner, and he begins to sprint towards her. Rufus chases after the shepard, with his Beagle friend darting after him. Once the train of pooches reach the owner, she greets her beast and pets him on the head. With her attention diverted, I watch as Rufus walks behind her and he begins to lift up one of his legs. 

“WHO JUST PEED ON ME?” , screeched the owner. Terrified that my puppy would leave a mark on this woman’s mind indefinitely, I decide to cover it up. I look around me and notice that there are no other humans present, so I blamed the Beagle. As the puppies run away, I walk up to the owner and pseudo sympathetically mutter,  “I can’t believe that Beagle did that.” 

I quickly get out the harness and leash and rope in my wild animal. Rufus made his mark for the day and it was time for us to leave. 

What is writing like for you?

I hold a six-sided cube, knowing for certain what I have to do; but completely uncertain of how to do it. Its chaos, six colored blocks all over the place with absolutely no rhyme or reason. My job right now, is to find reason and perfection.There are six color blocks to represent each of the six sides. The object is to move all of the blocks to their assigned side, and I’ve not completed until all are where they belong.

This isn’t my first time with this task. On occasion, maneuvering the blocks comes easily and all that is needed is a quick glance. Then a plan will formulate itself and I can begin. Sometimes I just know where everthing needs to go and it all works out well.

Otherwise, I just think I know how it will play out, until I’m wrong. Then it all about making it work. In certain cases sometimes the only thing to do is to start over. Streach and come back. Get a glass of water or something. I can take breaks from my work, but I know it will have to get done before I can move on to something else.

Absolute focus is key. Perhaps that is all you need. Keep trying until you get it right, because eventually it will. The only thing you can’t do is give up. 

Try an I-said, he/she said conversation. Set the scene somehow.

“How did you hear about this place again?” I ask as we tread up a wide rock staircase.

“One of my coworkers told me about it. He said the trails range from an hour to two hours long. I chose one of the shorter hikes for you since this is your first time” spoke my experienced hiker of a boyfriend.

“Yeah, this is totally out of my comfort zone. When I was looking up places to hike in the Bay Area, I found out that some trails have spiders and snakes. It totally freaked me out.”

“They wouldn’t pop out at you, Raychel. They are as afraid of people as we are of them. They want nothing to do with us. Okay, I think we want this one” spoke my guide, who points to a marker labeled ‘The Sunset Trail’.

“I know but the thought of them being close by gives me the willies. Whoa, the trees here are gigantic. Its like we have Muir Woods in our backyard.”

“This park was only, what? Fifteen minutes away? Cool, I think I see a stream of water down there.”

“We’re going THAT far down? This hike is no joke. There should be railings or something to hold onto as you go down.”

“Wow, now you really sound like a city girl. Let me just tell you right now, there are no bathrooms in here and there are definitely not hand sanitizer dispensers either.”

“You’re so funny; but I am totally out of my element. You know, after the ‘incident’ hiking has been a scary thought for me, for many reasons.”

“What ‘incident’ do you speak of? You have a lot of many of those.”

“You know, when I slipped and fell on that rock as a kid. Remember? I was hiking with my family, I was either five or six years old and I was running to the car. My parents warned me to stop running or I would slip but it was too late. My forehead fitting perfectly on this oval rock. “

“Well your parents were right, you should never run on a trail. Big mistake. Besides we’ve almost made it down now. That wasn’t so bad was it? This was the hard part too, its all a cake walk from here.”

“No it wasn’t too bad. Maybe, if the rest of this goes well we can do it again sometime.”

“Okay, maybe. As long as you don’t run or see any snakes or spiders, why not?” 

What would you like to be paid to talk about?

Music has always been at the epicenter of my life. My family consists of musicians and music lovers, which naturally rubbed off on me. I’ve played several instruments throughout my life and you can rarely find me without my headphones in.

Listening to music is not only clinically proven to be therapeutic but it is a way that all humans can connect. Every culture has its own style of music, each distinct and unique; and I love trying all that the world has to offer. In college I learned that literature can be defined as “insight to the human condition” and I think music could share that description.

I am passionate about learning how to make music as well. I’ve been singing since I was in diapers, traveled with a choir in middle school and high school, and am teaching myself how to play guitar currently. Figuring out how to play anything can be very tough, but the more practice you get the better you play.  It can be very rewarding when you perform in front of people for the first time, if all goes well. 

What inanimate thing do you wish could talk?

If I could listen to any of my inanimate objects talk I would choose my car, Alvin. He already has a person’s name and sometimes I do talk to him. I think I have spent more of my time in my car than I have indoors, since I’ve been a young adult. Traveling, getting to work and school and the occasional camping trip.

Some of the best times I’ve had were either because of my car or in the car itself.

I wonder what it would tell me? I’m sure it would say that it was tired, with all of the miles I put on it over the years. I’m sure it would also ask for a tune-up because the steering is starting to shake as I accelerate.

I’ve put that hatchback through so many adventures and it’s made it through all but one. That leads me to believe that the car is a trouper and would possess a good attitude. I don’t even think it would ask for a facelift, even though it could really use on. I bet Alvin would just thank me for using him so much, and ask to be cleaned more frequently.

Week 3 Theme: Scene-Setting and Dialogue

As the sun shot through the sunroof, instantly warming me, I was exstatic to be going to the lake. Not only did I have this picturesque California day off from work, but I was spending it catching up with my friend, Erica. I picked her up and we drove toward the lake to begin the hunt for a parking spot. With no luck finding a spot around the lake, we decided to check out the parking situation around the perminiters of a nearby park.

As we drive by I see two or three dozen tents set up in the actual park. There are a handful of people gathered by the entrance, holding up signs and being interviewed by a local news crew. Puzzled by the amount of campers in this tiny park, I ask “What’s with all of these campers Erica? Is the park normally filled up like this?”

“No, these people moved here a few weeks ago” she reported. Erica only lives a few blocks away from the lake.

“Moved here? From where?”

“They moved here from the one of the parks downtown, by the 12^th Street B.A.R.T station. They are protestors of the Occupy Movement”, she explained.

“Is it safe to park here then?” I ask, pulling into a spot with a non-colored curb.

“Yeah they’re not violent. They proved that the other night” , she said as she closed the car door.

I lock the car up, feeling a little uneasy about abandoning it by this makeshift campsite. “What happened the other night?” I ask as we walk pass the protestors.

“The other night the city of Oakland tried to evict them. They were given a letter of some sort, saying that they needed to set up somewhere else, because of sanitary issues. When they didn’t leave the police tried a number of controversial tacticts to get them to move. Did you really not hear about this?”

“I really didn’t. I can’t believe I missed all of this happening in our city!”

“Yeah, it was all over the news. The police tear gassed the protestors and they even used a sound cannon on them, which has caused a lot of controversy.”

“I believe it! Are there less people involved in the movement now?”

“There are less people camping downtown, but not less involved in the movement. If anything, after hearing about how the police handled the situation, more people have become involved. Some people are occupying other parks but most sleep indoors and show up for protests. They shut the port down a few nights ago”.

“Why would they want to shut down the port?” I asked.

“I’m not one hundred percent sure, but I know that they got a lot of national coverage over the success of the shut down. The movement wants to get the government’s attention by non-violently occupying public places. Shutting down the port seems a little extreme though.”

“All this going on in my back yard and I didn’t know it.”

“After this walk, I say we go to Sears, because you definitely need a television.”

Go to a crowded public place (not one of your classrooms, though) and be a fly on the wall. Just watch. What's going on? Set that scene.

I grab an iced coffee and head over to a small wooden circular table, placed in front of a bench, which is affixed to the wall. I bring a notebook and a textbook, so I can people watch incognito. I’m sitting in a locally owned café, which is right next to a Starbucks and on the same block as a Peet’s. The quality of coffee is better than these chain stores; but the atmosphere is completely the same, filled with students, business professionals, and those leisurely enjoying their lattes.

To my right sits a man with his laptop. He’s chatting away with someone online, with his headphones plugged into his compact computer. From the bits of conversation I pick up, I believe he is talking to a business associate. He’s having a house cappuccino, based on the glass I observe him drinking from, with a heaping amount foam. I hear him dryly attempt a few jokes and then he swiftly gets up and leaves the coffee shop. The meeting must have come to an end.

At my 1 o’clock are two mothers with their two small children. They are trying to settle themselves into a bench on the opposite side of the café. Before they can sit and enjoy their coffee, they must find a place for their strollers and situate their babies. Their lonely coffees are waiting for them, getting colder by the minute.

Across the room and to my left, are several people sitting alone with their laptops, eyes glued to their computer screens. Everyone pecking away, focused on their work.  One college age male is clearly working on homework, nervously tugging one and chewing the drawstrings of his navy blue “Cal” sweatshirt.

I find it funny that no one else is sitting with a book and notebook.  

A conversation between myself and I.

"Good Mornin'."

"Morning? Its almost afternoon!"

"It isn't the afternoon until I finish this coffee. And hello to you too."

"Fair enough. How was your first day back at the office?"

"Oh you know, same old, same old. Headaches from screaming children in the large party room, backaches from carrying copious amounts of ice cream, and hardly any money to show for it. Those four days off were pretty wonderful though." 

"How was your stay-cation?"

"Fantastic. We went hiking in the Oakland Hills, where we discovered an off-leash, fenced in dog park. We took the puppy the next day. The next two days were consumed by homework, which gets me that much closer to getting out of the restaurant industry."

"That sounds pretty good. Saving money, that's the new responsible side looks good on you."

"Pshh, I've always been responsible! I'm just getting better at it. And it does look good on me."

"Wait a second, don't you have ANOTHER vacation coming up too, right?!"

"Yeah, sorta,  kinda. My Grandfather is coming to town for a week and because it's the slow season for us, I'm able to take off every day to be with him."

"That's great! Not many people have the luxury of back-to-back vacations. Even though they're not paid, you should totally be thankful that you can even get that time off. Maybe the restaurant industry isn't so bad." 

"You're right. I should be thankful. I'm really looking forward to seeing him. I haven't him since the summer, when I came home for a week. We're going to Napa for a few days, which will be a great treat. I can't wait to show him all that the Bay Area has to offer."

"Your sort of becoming an ambassador to your new home. This is like, what, the 4th tour you've given?"

"5th, but who's counting?"

"Certainly not me! I also, have a lot of homework to do today, before I go to work. I should get started on that."

"Alright Raychel, enjoy the rest of your day! Try not to work too hard."

"You got it. Good talking to you Raychel, keep your head up!" 

Theme Week Two

Growing up brave in a mad world. 

I sat in a cold plastic chair in the school's computer lab, starring blankly into the screen. My orange carrot cursor hung dead in the air, with a computer horse waiting for me to come back and play. The teacher then turned off the lights and we were told to give a moment of silence for the people of Columbine High School. I was in the fifth grade and I was just told that there had been a shooting. I felt really sorry and scared for the people involved. When the lights came back on, signaling that it was time to get back to my digital steed, I felt sick to my stomach. After school, the bus dropped us off at our brown raised ranch and I went straight to the living room, to flip on the TV. Even though I felt uneasy, I needed to know more information. I wanted to know what the school couldn't tell us. Columbine was all over the news, showing a mass of people huddled together. Students and teachers had been killed or injured, by two troubled boys. The more information I heard, the more I felt lucky to be where I was. Comfortable and alive. 

The next year, in the sixth grade, I felt like most of my time was spent outside, waiting in a single file line. We had a lot of confused kids in our midst as well and they were really big on bomb threats. Nothing ever happened to us, except for the kids that got caught, they were in a world of trouble; but the lingering threat that our school could be blown up was unsettling. I was so afraid that news reporters were going to come and video tape us standing outside our school. As if they could swoop in and deliver us some bad news, like how I heard about Columbine.  

I remember ushering in 2000 with these enormous yellow glasses. The glasses themselves were just the numbers "2000", with holes for your eyes in the middle of the two 0's. I loved those glasses and I loved promise that the new millennium brought. This was not to say that I wasn't scared, at the same time, that the world would end. My parents bought into the Y2K paranoia purchasing an excessive amount canned goods and water. I was happy that we were prepared, just in case, but I was praying that things would continue on; and of course they did. In a way that no one ever anticipated.


2001 is a year that most Americans can recall well, as a life changing event happened on September 11th. My Grandmother died the day before at only 60 years old. I lost my favorite listener and best friend. We were really close and I was very upset about her passing; but at the same time I was happy she didn't have to see the Twin Towers fall. The scene of the burning buildings, ash falling everywhere, with people running scared would have devastated her. Every channel was replaying the plane crashes again and again. It was like a bad roller coaster ride that you couldn't get off. 


Two years later our country went to war in Iraq. This war got news coverage unlike any other before with the Internet readily available. Videos were uploaded of bombings and shootings. With the click of a button you were on the front line, seeing everything that the soldiers saw. Most were too graphic for me to stomach. Turning on the TV was like an instant horror movie, complete with lost lives and real life injuries. Stories of bombings and death tolls were becoming more and more frequent. I had to take a break from watching the news because every morning there were more gruesome things to recount from over seas. 


When the TV was turned off, I would often sit in silence. The stillness allowed me to collect myself and process what I saw. Although all of these events are certainly scary, there comes a time where you just have to be brave. You can't be sad or live in fear anymore. I think all Americans had to do that. Desensitize themselves just to carry on. That has played a big part of our history.