You in three persons...third person

After her Sophomore Year in High School, Rene' injected herself into Poetry Readings, Science Fiction and Fantasy writing class, and a creative writing class. She dropped out of the creative writing class from intimidation of the other students ability, and from the stupid writing prompts. One such prompt that drove Rene' nuts was the one where Mr. Phelps had the class write about something gross and turn it into something beautiful. Just the memory of this prompt is enough to put a grimace on her face and turn her stomach.

Rene' succeeded in the science fiction and fantasy writing class from the presence of Ms. McMillian. Ms. McMillian taught this class and guided Rene' to write a 100 page book on a topic of her choice. Rene' throughly enjoyed writing in this classroom. The only thing that bothered her was her fellow peers inconsiderate behavior towards peers that couldn't form a sentences quickly in their head. She left that class room more than once harboring resentment for James and Erin's criticism.

Attending the poetry reading meetings let Rene' to express herself in a carefree environment with others with the same interest. Reading her work in front of a group, seeing them nodd, talk to their neighbors, applading, made her feel like she belonged. She attended these meeting in the Dover public library.

After a gap of three years from writing about things that she actually enjoys, Rene' decided that sometime this summer she was going to get back to her creative side. Little did she know that this goal would be met by taking another creative writing class. To her undeniable joy she has found that this creative writing class has attracted her attention instead of repelling her with gross prompts.

You in three persons...second person

You marvel at how quick your opinion on writing has changed in just a few short days. Ever since you were old enough to compile sentences to express thought, you have been finding excuses not to write. Your not going to learn. What the sense? You'll just get beaten further down the hole of failure and disgrace. But that opinion changed on day in your Sophomore year of High School.

You just compiled a 20 line poem for your English class. You unfavorably choose the poem over a ten page story thinking the poem would be shorter. Oh, how wrong you were. You passed the poem in with a slight feeling of accomplishment, but wasn't about to get your hopes up for a wonderful grade. Things you were sure of in the past never worked out, why should this assignment be any different?

The fated day arrived when you were to receive your assignment back with the dreaded grade. You internal prepared yourself for the c- you were so positive you were going to receive for your hours of hard work. You watched Ms. McMillian walk around the room handing back work; you listened to the other students sighs of agony or pleasure. You watched Ms. McMillian as she walked through the line of desks to yours, turning your head to face your desk before she placed your paper on your desk. You heard her walk away. You slowly lifted your head to look at your poem entitled 'Championship'. There is no red marks on the first page, so you flip to the last page. There, right at the bottom, in Ms. McMillian's hasty scribbles is your grade and, oh no! She left a comment! You forget about the grade and immediately start reading the comment.

The comment said, "This was really good Rene'. You showed a knowledge of understanding for this style poem and followed through with your topic. Great job! I also liked the drawing of the cardinal. So cute." You glance quickly at your grade, a 96. That is the best grade you have received for writing. A sense of wonderful accomplishment washed over you as you decide that you can write, and that you are going to try even harder.

Since that blissful day, you tried very hard to reach new heights in writing. Also, you decided to not wait until 9 o'clock the night before the paper was due to write it. Your encounter with Ms. McMillian in Sophomore year of High School was the stepping stone to your writing interest.

Week One, Journal

• Day 1

My husband and I went to visit his mother this afternoon. She had surgery a month ago and just came home from the hospital last week. While we were visiting Suzette (his mom) I got my first unwanted pregnancy comment. After reading a magazine article a few weeks ago about receiving unwanted opinions and advice I thought I was prepared for it. I was wrong.

A lady stopped in to see how Suzette was doing and to drop off her pay check. Suzette and her (can't remember her name) started chit chatting about whatever, and I went to the other room to answer a call from my mom. As I hung up the phone the lady was headed out the door but stopped when she saw me. She turned around and said, "You must be carrying twins. You are so much bigger than my niece. And she is due in December!"

After the lady said this I froze for a second. During this second I was thinking, "What the heck? Do I look like a whale to you or something? By the time I'm due are people going to be running away from me yelling 'Run! It's Rene! She's going to crush you!' or something?"

After the second of harsh comments in my head I smiled a the lady and laughed like she had just said the best joke ever. Oh well. What else can a pregnant lady do?

• Day 2

Today was rather dull. I had to stay home all day and wait for the repair man to show up to take out our garbage disposal. And then he never showed up. The apartment complex Andrew and I live in had a federal inspection last week, and upon the completion of the inspection found that items around the complex need to be fixed before the apartments can receive funding.

The repair men, six of them, showed up yesterday and started working immediately at various activities. They even bunked down in a spare apartment that happens to be located almost next to me. I had the wonderful joy of listening to them talk and joke until midnight last night. They are even louder than my actual neighbors! Thank God they are quiet tonight.

But anyways, my mom told me that one of the men would be coming around today to take out our disposals (she lives in the complex too). He did in fact take hers and five other disposals out today that I noticed. I watched the repair man in question all day as he went about his work, wishing that he would just get mine so I could get my groceries. The guy could have got in with the master key, but who wants a stranger in their home tearing things apart? Besides, I don't think my cat would have gave him a warm welcome if he did come in while I was gone. Salem is very protective of his humans.

But, I guess my waiting to switch over to tomorrow. Hopefully he gets here early, not to early, so I can go to my doctors appointment and to my first Wednesday night class.

• Day 3

The highlight of today's events was when I went to my doctor's and heard my baby's heart beat for the second time. It sounded different today. Slower, more delicate. Last time it was fast and strong. It was still a strong heart beat, but it just sounded more delicate. Probably its just a new mothers worry. Also at my appointment we set up my first ultrasound for next week. That puts a ring of excitement in my house hold. We can't wait to find out if we have one bundle of joy or more, and what gender it is. This is the most interesting thing today, so I will leave it here and take my tired body to bed. Long day.

• Day 4

Today I got to go visit my grandmother. When we arrived she was hanging out her laundry in front of her house. Her dog Tiny was yapping from the window. I love little Tiny. She's the main reason I go to visit. Sad, huh? I get a big kick out of that little dog.

Tiny is a chocolate tea cup poodle, about the size of two 1 month old kittens. She is very hyper, and is six years old. Every time Andrew and I go out to visit she jumps up and down frantically, and wags her tail so hard her whole body shakes. She is such an amazing sight.

All I did out at my gram's today was lay on her couch with Tiny on my chest. We laid there, took a nap, and watched some T.V. Over all the visit was like a normal day at home. My gram didn't mind. She got to play yahtzee with my mom for a few hours.

• Day 5

Andrew and I went shopping with my mom in Newport today. The shopping wasn't bad, but I am learning that I can't stand long rides or being in public anymore. Being out of the apartment make me antsy and exhausted. I don't know what has caused the change for sure, but I can guess it has something to do with me being pregnant. So, the trip to Newport made me tired. I think it will be a long while before I get back in a car for an hour drive.

• Day 6

Ah, stupid me. I got back in a car again today. We only went as far as dover but it was enough. I think spending the last two days in a car had me pre-tired. Other than this, my internet has not been working for the last couple of days, again. We have been experiencing difficulties with it for almost a month now, but we thought it was fixed. Guess not. It has been out since Thursday. It is back on for now but I don't know how long it will last. It will probably go out again tomorrow. I'll have to call the repair man again. He is going to get sick of coming here. Oh, well. That's his job after all.

You in three persons...first person

It's one thirty in the afternoon. Outside the sun is beating down on my fifth grade classroom, turning the room into a suffocating death trap. A breeze lightly brushes against the open window, stirring the shades only. I listen to Mrs. Whitney announce that it is time to write our stories for this week. I grown in my head. My lest favorite subject. English.

I turn my attention to the top of my desk, the wood patterns swirling from left to right. I stare fixedly at the indent along the top of the desk that holds my chewed pencil; my teeth marks showing my displeasure for the past weekly writing assignments. I glance up at Mrs. Whitney while she finishes up her lecture on how to improve our writing. I didn't listen, again. I'll never get good at writing so what was the since in paying attention? Mrs. Whitney's two chins jiggle as she laughs at a joke she made, the class following suit. I smile weakly in the teacher's direction, faking that I payed attention. "You may start now," Mrs. Whitney tells us in her alto voice.

I lean to the left to look inside my desk to find my black and white media book. It is were I left it, on top of a pile of old crumpled math work sheets. I grab it with my left hand while I think about what boring topic I can choose this time to scribble about. I rustle through my shortening list of topics in my head, shoving each idea aside as it materializes.

Slouching over my desk, head in hands, I begin to pull my sweaty hair. Tears exploding in my eyes as frustration and defeat wrapped around my shaking body. Images of bad grades, my mother's upset face, my brother's chiding comments began whirling in my head. I throw my torso onto my desk in my final act of frustration.