Review of Gary Smith piece.

This one was much better than the last, no crazy ranting review here! I must say I actually kinda liked the bitter-sweetness of this essay, with Takes Enemy's basketball fame to hitting rock bottom to rising up again was certainly more uplifting than the piece about cannibalism. I also enjoyed how the author makes a contrast between the past and the modern age of the Crow tribe, as well as his explanations of the expectations that are present for those in that community. I do think though, that while basketball is certainly a central theme here, I think that Smith relied a little too much on this one aspect to tell a story that was much bigger.

Response to the Piers Paul Read Piece

Okay, okay, okay. This piece I am just not okay with. Just visualizing this cannibalism stuff in my head in all of that detail was flat out disgusting. To be quite honest, I couldn't even finish reading it. I tried, I really did, but I just got too queasy at the thought about 4 pages in and I just couldn't do it! I do have to appreciate the author's very detailed descriptions that paint a very vivid picture, so he did his job well in that department because believe me, the picture in my head was VERY vivid. It is really gritty non sugar-coated facts, and honestly I think that is what bothered me the most, knowing that it actually happened and knowing all of the details of it. I also must give the writer props for being able to write about it without being too disturbed, that would take some talent. Overall, Alicia's review here says that out of all of the survival stories that I have read, this one was not the best, I mean, I couldn't even finish it and the whole thing was about cannibalism. Maybe I just couldn't see the deeper meaning because I was so grossed out, I don't know.  1 out of 5 stars.

Short response to "the Night Trucks"

I have to say that I can relate to "The Night Trucks", and that once again, it makes me think of my youth spent at my grandparent's farm, and how one particular memory comes to mind about the same sort of subject. A lot of things that we have read in this class makes me think of those days! My family's farm is not as large of scale of a farm as Kent Meyers' was, with our main emphasis being soybeans and corn, not so much livestock. But, we did have some, mostly consisting of cattle, swine, and a few chickens, just enough for the family and to occasionally sell meat to a few local friends. When I was about eight or nine years old, there was this one little piggy that I really loved. It was the runt of a litter of pigs born on Christmas day one year, with a black and white saddle back pattern and a long scar running down its back, and I named it Holly since it was born on Christmas. The spring and summer of that year I watched her grow up, finally catching up to the size of the rest, but still keeping her gentle nature, being especially nice and patient for a pig. I was the only one who could feed her, mostly since the other pigs would get to it all first since she was so passive. So, every day, I would take her out of the pen and give her her own scoop of food. But then, quite some time later, My uncle Scott came in with the routine bucket: the bucket filled with cheap beer and sliced bananas. I knew what that meant; it meant that the pigs, including Holly, were going to be fattened up to be sold or slaughtered. As a little kid, I was devastated. Holly was my friend, as weird as that sounds. I took care of her ever since she was born, and the day I saw them loaded into that rickety brown livestock trailer, I cried and sat in the house, unable to watch them drive my piggy away.

Mini Essay Inspired by "Street Haunting"

Old books have always fascinated me. They look interesting, with their yellowed pages and often frayed and faded binding. They even smell good to me, for if literature had a smell, that would be it. I remember going through my grandma’s attic as a kid, looking at all of these old books. I don’t remember the titles of any of them off the top of my head, none were any that I had ever heard of, but what I do remember and still have today is my desire to read each and every one of them. I want to unlock magical worlds trapped between the pages of those tattered and ignored volumes, worlds that my friends will most likely never enter unless they come across some old books too. This is why I love old books.

Response to Woolf Piece in Relation to Classmate's Essay.

First off, I would like to say that I was completely and thoroughly confused by these essays, especially the first one. I understood that she was writing about a walk through town and the different things that she saw, but the pencil thing baffled me. She brings up the pencil a lot, and I’m not quite sure what the hidden meaning behind that is and I feel like I should. This is difficult, so it probably won’t be correct, but if I had to relate a classmate’s essay from this workshop day to one of these Woolf essays I would have to say that Braden’s is closest simply because they both use vivid descriptions to talk about their surroundings.

Response to "January"

I really enjoyed “January” because I found this piece to be really relatable to me personally. From my experience and childhood years at the farm, I knew all of these uses for baling twine and more. We usually used the orange kind though, it was a little stronger and had uses of all sorts. It was great for tying down tarps, temporarily tying together fences, and even for hanging laundry on, if the laundry was light enough. I don't know much about horses, but I am very familiar with baling twine and on a farm, it is the thread of life, so I really enjoyed that reference in this piece.

Short essay inspired by "Muskgrass Chara"

My nose is cursed and I can thank my father. I always had a stronger sense of smell than most people; I could smell everything, the good, bad, and often, the worst. It was more of a curse than a blessing, but there were some occasions when I loved having my super sensitive nose. Like, when I’m in a flower shop or a bakery it is the best thing ever. Whenever I walk into Fluff on Court Street I can smell the cookies and cakes baking right down to the ingredients. Caramelized sugar will taunt me to buy a cookie, and the scent of cinnamon sends a delightful tingle to the tip of my nose, allowing me to experience the joys of sweet scent more than anyone else I know. When my nose becomes a curse however, is pretty much any other time. For example: when someone farts, when I pass a sewer, when there is rotten food in the fridge, my room last year when I had a roommate that didn’t shower, when I go to a gym, a heaping basket of dirty laundry, cat litter, smelly shoes. The list goes on and on. If I were to list all of them, you may fall asleep before you finish reading. However, one thing that I have always found useful about my strong nose is that I am able to tell when people are going to be sick, up to three days before they begin showing any symptoms. Sometimes, I can even smell when I am going to be sick. I can smell ashes on the breath of people who are carrying a virus, and I had no idea what that smell that I have sniffed all of my life was until my dad told me when I was about 12 years old. He is the only one I know who has the same talent, and he explained the whole thing to me. “It’s carbon dioxide, Alicia. People produce more of it when they are sick because they are fighting a virus. That’s what you smell.” So, basically, I can weird my friends out by letting them know that they will be sick in the near future. Those who are unaware of my curse think I am a basket case when I tell them, but then three days later when they are in bed coughing up a lung and not in class, they think that I am a witch who practices some sort of black magic. Nope. I’m just a girl with a really sensitive nose who decided to be nice and give her friends a heads-up.