Intro:
I rewrote my previous blog post with more visiual detail. The reading, My Mother Gives me a Writing Lesson (Martin Lee), clearly says that a good setting sets up the characters. So I added a "nut paragraph" in the beginning. I as well added a few changes in syntax for better sentence flow, as well as a few grammar mistakes. The season of summer ‘14 was ending; the sturdy trees were letting go of their warm-colored leaves. The sun was not quite setting, but was overlapping the roofs of the neighborhood houses. I was outside on my abroad front yard, playing with my pet cat, Luna. She was a pure white cat, with vivid, green eyes. She was skinny and nimble, darting from one side of the yard to the other. I was so careless, while I was playing with her, I stumbled over a divot on the ground. I fell hard on my side. I thought I was okay, so I got up. It turned out I wasn’t. My left ankle was broken, or at least sprained, and it hurt badly. I fell down again. I wanted to yell, but I didn’t want to cause a scene in my quiet neighborhood; I prayed that no passerby was looking my way. I probably looked like a fool. My cat, Luna, hurriedly ran towards me. She looked worried. She seemed like she wanted to help me, but she couldn’t do much. I used my arms to slowly crawl to my front door. It was a good thing wasn’t too far from my house; it was about fifteen feet away. I shamefully continued to stretch my arms and used my right foot as extra force. It seemed like a long time, but I made it to the front porch. Luna was still by my side, silent but caring. I forced myself to reach up to the door handle. While I was opening the screen door, I my pushed my body upwards onto the hardwood floor. Luna eventually decided to scamper back into the yard. My 9 year old sister was watching a cartoon on Netflix. “Flo, help me. I broke my ankle.” I groaned. “How'd you break it?!” she exclaimed “Just help me get on the chair. I’ll explain later.” My sister abruptly paused her show and slowly helped me onto the fabric armchair. She then continued to play the cartoon show. “Flo, go to the freezer and get me two ice-pops. One for my ankle and to eat.” She giggled a bit but followed my orders. She ran to the kitchen. A few seconds later, she came with three different colored pops, one for herself. She tossed them over the chair and onto my lap. I put one between my ankles and ripped the other one open with my mouth. Several minutes later, my father came from downstairs. He probably just woke up from a nap. He passed us, and paced towards the kitchen. “Troy, wash the dishes now!” he shouted from the kitchen. “I can’t!” I replied. “What do you mean?” “I broke my ankle.” I mutter. “What?” “I said I broke my ankle!” I shouted. I heard heavy steps creaking on the old wood floor coming back from the kitchen. “So, you gonna do the dishes or not?” I was so confused. Did he not hear me or not? “Do you think I’m lying? I broke my ankle.” “How?” he questioned. “I was, like... running outside and I misstepped into a hole and like... fell down.” “I don’t believe you. You’re always so lazy. Wash the dishes now!” My sister pauses the show. She silently watches. “Why wont you believe me? You see this thing on my ankle? I actually broke it or something!” “Get up right now.” I was completely silent for a few seconds.
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Sources: Hills Like White Elephants (Ernest Hemingway) How to Format Dialogue Symbolism Intro This true story happened a week ago. The whole time I was clenching my heart over the smallest thing. From the moment I woke up, until I signed that paper. My unreasonable anxiety causes me to lose control of myself. l wake up on my bed, the daylight hits my body through the dusty window. "Oh crap, I'm late." I scramble to find my uniform. It does not smell good, but I put it on anyways. I hastily brush my teeth and skedaddle through the front door. The sky is full of grey clouds, yet it's still hot. The walk to work is ten minutes, but I'm already ten minutes late. The heat steadily wares me down as I pace down the streets of Springfield. After a few minutes, I see my workplace down the way. There it is, Chick-Fil-A. I can feel my heart bumping vividly. I have been late for work on multiple occasions already. I think, "Who knows what they'll to me." I reach out open the glass door. The store only has a few customers, but I can feel their eyes looking my way. I try to clock in without letting anyone notice. It's 12: 23. I regrettably walk into the back of the restaurant, and put my belongings in a locker. I turn around and I stumble into one of my managers. He towers over me, with his body. I notice his phone in his hand. I know he was trying to call me. "Troy, there you are! Why are you late?" "I'm sorry. My phone was on silent mode, so I did not hear my alarm..." "Troy. This is the third time this month. I know you are a good worker here, but your tardiness cannot be excused." "I'm sorry again." I'm about to say that I won't do it again, but I know I probably will. He goes into his little cramped office to go finish some paperwork. I go back up to the front of the restaurant to get my daily job. Another manager sets up my cash register. I continue on through the day, like a normal day of work. A few hours in, a coworker approached me." Hey Troy, they want you in the manager's office." I reply, "why?" "Just go, any you will know." I already knew what was going to happen. I was only trying to delay it. I slowly walk down the pathway to the manager's office. My heart bumps furiously again. I arrive. I open the heavy metal door. Inside, there were two managers, none were the manager I spoke to before first. The manager spoke with a careful tone. "Troy, I heard you were late to work again. Is that true?" I hesitate for a moment. I reply, "Yes it is." "Alright, I just need you to sign this paper about this misconduct." I lean in to grab the pen and write down my signature on the bottom of the paper. "Troy, I like you, you're a good worker. Just don't let this happen again. You do know what happens if it does?" I stay silent. "You have a meeting with the managers. Nobody wants that. If you need to change your schedule to fit yourself better, do that. Now get outta here." Yeah, I knew it. It was a write-up. It's over now though. My heart can finally relax. Sources: Intro:
This story doesn't seem very unique, but it's what's been bugging me for years now. I often think too hard and have to pull myself back to make myself feel better. It's a routine I'm used to. All of it is stuck in a remote part of my brain, and I don't want to unlock it. I lift my wrist shakily up to my eye. I feel so senseless and empty. I have no direction for myself, and I have no one to call to who seems worthy. Yet, I still go through life, looking unfazed, knowingly that I am a broken being. I just lost myself in my own thoughts again. I shake my head and get a grip of my conscience. I am on king-sized bed, all lonesome. My fan whirs chilling air towards my feet. The window reveals a strong light coming from the playground across the street. A string of Christmas lights surround the walls, faintly lighting the room.My Alexa is softly streaming music I've accustomed to listening to. I sit up from my bed sheets and pull out my phone. It is 12:30 AM. I don't want to sleep. I go back into my covers and scroll through multiple social media apps, wasting my time away. Just like I do every single night. Minutes of wasting my time turn into hours. The screen hurts my eyes, but I hate to sleep. I understand that it is healthy to sleep, but I ignore those thoughts. I distract myself from thinking too hard about myself. My head aches from no sleep. My body is sore and permeates with sweat. My eyes feel like they will suck into my skull if I don't rest now. So I rest now. "Alexa, stop." The sound of a faint rhythm that had filled my room before came to an end. I unplug the Christmas lights, turned off the electric fan, and closed the heavy curtains all the way, blocking the streetlamp. Total silence. Nothing to distract me from getting a mediocre night's sleep. I lay there for what seems like an eternity for me. My body turns left and right through the thick blanket. I find a adequate position, with my head resting on my arm. My last conscious thoughts are drifting off when going to a deep sleep. An abrupt quacking noise disturbs me from my sleep. It is morning. I pick up my phone and put it on snooze. It wakes me up again. I don't feel any better. I shut the alarm off for good. and force myself out of the the warm bed. Upon exiting my room, I smell my father's coffee from downstairs. It wakes me up a bit, but I hate coffee. I go to the bathroom to briefly wash my face. I put on a cozy hoodie and slim dark jeans. My friend has been waiting outside my house for a while. I snatch my bag and boost through the front door. Fresh air his my exposed skin. I rush myself towards the passengers seat. "Hey Troy, How are you?" "I've never been better." |
Troy BergadoWhatever's on my mind, from feelings to discoveries, I will write down here. ArchivesCategories |