If there’s one thing I’ve caught on to while in America it’s that Americans do not seem to know the concept of half unless it’s the one they use for their coffee. They turn out to be either super nice and enthusiastic or anxious and depressed, involved in everything possible or not involved at all, rich or struggling. There are either lights and casinos and people shopping at Louis Vuitton,??? gambling and drinking their money away or people begging for money and food or doing drugs in the bushes beside a busy street in broad daylight which people pass by on the way to the hipster restaurant around the corner. There seems to be no middle ground. // Spring Break began yesterday and a few friends and I got a ride from another friend to San Francisco, California where the plan was to stay for two nights before going to LA also for a couple nights and lastly Las Vegas. None of these places are familiar so we want to see everything.
The two days in San Francisco pass incredibly quickly, we walk around the whole day and manage to see a lot of what we had planned. On the day we leave for Los Angeles we have dinner at a diner. We decide to indulge in a cup of coffee at this time of night since we are going to be taking a night time coach. This results in us being a little more hyper than normal having not yet mastered the art of saying no to free coffee when they ask if we’d like a refill. We make our way to the station where we are getting the coach to LA at midnight. The street is mostly empty as we walk there,P according to Google maps it shouldn’t be more than a 10 minute walk.
The station comes into view and we finally see people. A woman is sitting on the side of the road, her back to us, appearing to me like she is drawing or reading. I’m lugging my suitcase behind me, talking to one of the girls, telling her about my reoccurring dream and she’s telling me what her interpretation of it is. Mid conversation, from behind something hits me. The woman HAD HIT hits me on the head with an open hand. We all stop - I’m not even sure what is going on or how to react. I’m mostly shocked that someone I don’t even know just hits you like that for no reason. In my naivety and maybe even ignorance I think to myself, P" has she no manners, is she completely uncivilized? She look like what WWyou’d picture when you think of a junkie – her appearance untreated, unhealthily thin, hollow checks, defined dark circles under her eyes. I recognize her smell from the metro SUBWAY? we had been in earlier in the day. It’s unpleasant, the girls and I had discussed how strong it was and how it felt like it stayed with you even after you left the station. (So much so that in true privileged fashion, when I get back home from Spring Break I take it to the dry cleaners, not being able to wear it while I could still smell it.) //??
We had not made eye contact or exchanged words - for all I knew she had not even noticed we were passing her. She now talks to me like she knows me, telling me to not say that again before hitting me once more. This time I see it coming so I manage to move slightly so she ends up hitting me on the side of the head instead. For some reason she decides that’s enough and starts walking backwards. As we start walking away she shouts after us ME? ‘you pissed me of but I LOVE YOU!’.
AS? We walk the short distance left to the station, a man sitting against the wall asks us if we are ok. ‘Yes, thank you’ I say. My right ear does not hurt where she hit me P instead it simply feels warm,P I can feel the blood rushing in its direction. We all stop and look at each other, the girls ask me if I’m ok: ‘Yes, thank you’. We are all shocked and replay the situation a few more times coming to the conclusion that she was high and clearly thinking I was someone she knew.
Once on the bus we settle down for theAN 8 hour journey, looking out the window AND? I think XXof what scenario could have been playing out in her head.P Possibly one in which she is not in the streets, where she does not do drugs, where she has a roof and an ordinary life. I wonder if perhaps she was thinking I was someone she knows well, like PERHAPS her sister who she used to fight with when they were kids. Maybe she thinks she’s nine again, mad at her sister for telling her parents on her and while arguing about it she hits her. Could be that that’s where she wishes to be - safe at home where the worse thing about her day was when her little sister tells on her.PPP
Just as we arrive in LA a woman sitting in the seat behind us asks where we are all from, probably having heard our different accents. We respond and briefly explain that we are exchange students and that this is our Spring Break. The woman tells us how exciting it all sounds and before she leaves gives us one piece of advice: ‘Don’t trust anyone in LA darlings, and I mean no one! Stick together girls. Have a nice time though!’ We share a look, somehow, I don’t think we would anyway. NICE TIME OR TRUST??Sunday mornings are days my meal plan at the university does not cover which means that the other international girls and I like to try out the brunch places downtown. Today we were going to try to get a table at ‘The Kitchen’ which IS?was a restaurant we’d heard particularly nice things about. EVEN THOUGH It also happens to be one of the only restaurants that is open on a Sunday, still we took it as a good sign that every time we try to go there we can never get a table. For some reason most restaurants downtown are closed on Sunday which doesn’t seem to make much sense to us since we would have thought it would be their busiest day. Calling to make a reservation also does not work, all these restaurants do not take reservations on the weekend and yet that does not stop us from trying almost every Sunday since being here to get a table. Usually we then quickly decide to not ( NOT TO?) wait the 30 minutes they say it should take and go someplace else instead.
On this Sunday, when we ask for a table they tell us,P once againP that it should be about 30 minutes for us to be seated. We give our names for the waiting list and as (is) usual (then) decide to try the restaurants on the other side of the university instead. We walk the way back, (walking) along Church Street as we chat about mundaneWW things, still sleepy, more than a little hungry and not in the mood to be walking in the rain. Soon we notice a group of people on the other side of the street walking the opposite direction to us. They seem to all be together, some wearing matching pink hats. We continue walking and soon see that this group of people does not seem to end(, BUT JUST) it goes on and on. ‘Oh yeah, I think today is (supposed to be??) the Woman’s March’ one of us remembers,PP we all nod in agreement having heard a few mentions of it but forgetting it was this Sunday. Being children of the 21st century our phones immediately come out, a post on Facebook, a snap, an Instagram video, we record it and document it in all the ways we know how.
//xx?Woman, MXXmen and Children march in the rain, fighting faces in place along with their chants, posters and pink hats. We all kind of want to join, kind of want to continue watching, kind of want to get some food, so we continue our way to the university, not really feeling the right to protest in a country that is not ours. We continue walking and when we approach the university begin to see what we think is the end of the march. However as we continue walking we see another group of people. This group is much smaller, at first they just seem to be people trying to decide where to go maybe even deciding whether to continue the march or if what they’d walked was sufficient to be able to say they had been at the Woman’s March. The girls and I don’t immediately realize that something is happening until we see a couple of policemen, their policemen hats in place, on our side of the street looking on at this group. They appear to be ready to intervene at any moment if necessary. We walk closer and finally understand what the reason for all this commotion is.
On the other side of the street, being confronted by a few protesters is a man, his head shaved, combat boots and a huge Nazi flag. He stands proudly as people ask him ‘what the hell are you thinking?!’ and ‘why are you even doing this?’ Closer to the policemen now, one of us decides to ask: ‘Sorry, we areAB internationals students and we areAB just wondering what isAB going on?’ They informWW us that there is a Woman’s March going on and that there seems to be an individual who found this to be the perfect time to express his views. ‘Why would he do something like that?’ Another one of us naively asks. ‘It’s a free country so he can.’ He reflects on this for a little while, ‘Of course some people don’t seem to realize that just because they can does notAB mean you should,’ he finishes with a little shrug. We all look back at the confrontation - the policeman that had been silent tells us: ‘Well, Welcome to America!’ in a tone that shows a level of self-deprecation I had heard American weren’t too good at. They appear to decide that they do need to intervene although they clearly do not want to, and cross the street proceeding to try to calm everyone down. We walk the rest of the way to the other side of campus and end up at another restaurant. They tell us it will be a 30 minute wait. We wait.
punctuation, repetition, tense and wordiness
11/01/2018
America was definitely leaving an impression. Some people talk about how sometimes they don’t feel like they are someplace else until they are there for at least a few hours but as soon as I stepped out of the plane I knew I was in unfamiliar territory.
I had been in the States for less than 24 hours. I had spent a night in Seattle and was now getting ready to leave the hotel room to get the coach to Salem where I would start my semester abroad. The morning was going relatively smoothly. I had woken up first by my alarm then by the wake-up call I had asked for the previous night simply because I'D always SEENsaw it in films and wanted to see what it would be like. I got ready fairly quickly which meant I had time to do things calmly.??? After checking I hadn’t left anything behind I walked downstairs and gave the key card to the very friendly lady at the desk and walked outside where my Uber was already waiting (for me). My coach was at 7 and it was ONLY 6.15 when I got in the car so I still had plenty of time. I lugged my heavy suitcases behind me as well as my bright red backpack and entered the coach station.
The station is relatively small. (ON 1 SIDE??) To my left the reception is visible as soon as I walk through the door. There aren’t many people here apart from a man sitting on the chair furthest from the door, his ginger hair and beard long and not taken care ofUNKEPMT? , his clothes (look) dirty as he sits with his arms crossed, head resting against the wall and eyes closed. Closer to the entrance there are also two men, possibly siblings,PPP standing, they share a manly embrace before the other jokingly saying he loves the other, making kissy noises as he walks away. I struggle to get my ticket out of my very full backpack and approach the counter.
//
As soon as I start talking the man at the desk turns to me with a curious look in his eyes and I know he’s trying to figure out where my accent is from. I was curious myself, to know what his guess would be after the man who helped me byBUY a train ticket the day before asked me if I was Australian. As he asks me to weigh my bags he chats a little paying close attention to my answers. Soon he’s asking me where I’m from, smiling, knowing he already knows (the answer). Immediately after I answer he proudly responds ‘I know, I could tell from your accent.’ (Little did I know interactions like THISthese would repeatedly happen while here, people always proud that they’d ‘guessed’ correctly.)
I settle down in the middle of the row of chairs with a good view to the outside so I can see when the coach arrives. I’m surrounded by my bags and I consider whether to get anything from the vending machine. A person comes in and approaches the desk,PP I try to connect to the Wi-Fi and then decide against being on my phone in fear of it running out of battery before I arrive at my destination. I wonder if I should try to read a book or just sit and let my eyes wonder. The station is not the cleanest, the egg shell walls need to be repainted and besideS the chairs and the vending machines it doesn’t seem to have much else. On closer inspection the vending machine appears to only have food containing levels of sugar equal to the weekly recommended amount which would probably not BE the best choice for breakfast.
A security guard approaches the sleeping ginger haired man,PP ‘Sir’ he says twice jolting him awake. ‘Do you have a ticket?’ -PP The man doesn’t say anything, he tries to look confused and then feels his coat as if trying to find his ticket. The guard sees right through this, ‘Come on man, you know I can’t let you stay here.’ The ginger haired man tries to convince him he does have a ticket and when asked to where, answers he doesn’t know, the security guard tells him he has to leave, AND the ginger haired man tells him something else. After a while of this the man ( WHICH?) gives up and leaves, lingering outside for a while until the guard talks to him outside as well.
The coach is now 15 minutes late, then 30 minutes. I get up and go to the desk to ask the receptionist what the reason for the delay is and whether the coach will be here soon. He tells me he’s not sure what is happening but will look into it. At this point there are at least fifteen people waiting for the coach and yet no one else seems worried or annoyed that it’s still not here. No one gets up and passive aggressively asks about the delay. I think about the times I got a coach in Victoria Coach Station and how rare delays seemed to be but if one were to happen ten different people would already be asking the attendant in the bright yellow vest what the holdup was. I stop myself several times from going to ask (again) if the coach will be here soon. I’m unsuccessful a couple of times -PP ‘I have no idea what’s going on, no one has gotten in touch’ PP- Unsatisfied I go back to my seat.
The man next to me makes a phone call letting someone know he will be at least two hours late and yet his voice shows no signs of annoyance, like a two hour delay is normal, the time in the ticket a mere suggestion. For some reason?? I am getting extremely frustrated, it feels like an alternative reality where everything stands still while moving and yet all that is happening is that the coach is late. As we continue waiting a man and a woman come in.
The woman is almost crushed by the weight of the door since she does not appear sufficiently strong or stable to open it enough to enter. This woman SHE? looks unhealthy, her legs are incredibly skinny, clad in pink leggings and what appear to be old ski boots that seem to weigh her down. The man looks equally unhealthy. He wobbles along next to the woman appearing even more unstable. They both have what look/s like fairly empty but nevertheless heavy camping backpacks. The woman’s legs look ready to crack under the weight and the man seems ready to topple backwards. They both stumble, unsteadily making their way to the coaches. The man sways with each step he takes, he has to stop to get his bearings every time he takes a step, staggering backwards as if he’s going to give in to the weight of the bag. The woman manages to walk more steadily despite her shaky legs. Every time the man stops she begs him to continue, frustration clear in her voice. They haven’t even moved completely away from the door when the man succumbs and falls on his back. He stays on the floor seeming to have no intention to get up. The woman, exceedingly annoyed, tells him to ‘Get. Up.’ The man asks for ‘just a minute’ - ‘NOW’ – she saysWW? when he does not move she pushesTUGS / YANKS?? on his arm until he finally gets back on his unstable feet. Around me no one seems to be particularly shocked (or recoiled ?) by what is happening. Just like the delay it seems like AS IF? this is an everyday occurrence to them.
The man and woman continue their journey from the very short distance between the door they came in from TO and the door leading them to the coaches.P The man always on the verge of toppling backwards, which he does a few times, the woman responding in the same manner when it happens, the desperation and exhaustion in her voice getting clearer each time. They pass me and the man almost knocks over my suitcase but I’m able to move it in time. Almost at the OTHER? door the man topples backwards again, this time landing on a girl’s bag. This girl looks about my age but she looks tougher. I think of how I would react and how I’d probably not even know what to do and would just continue where I was until he’d get up again and I was able to retrieve my bag. But this girl just looks annoyed, immediately huffing and saying something like ‘you have got to be kidding me’. She has absolutely no reservations in showing her annoyance, and instead of waiting for the man to get back up she pulls on the strap of her bag to retrieve it from under him. When she succeeds she struts to the other side of the room and throws her bag on the floor, kicking it to where she wants it. The man and woman don’t even seem to notice this,P the woman continues to try getting the man to get up: ‘Get up, come on, come on. Get Up!’ You can tell she’s close to having had enough and is probably thinking of just leaving him there which I’m surprised she hasn’t yet.
The security guard finally intervenes,PP like the rest of the people he does not seem surprised by their state,PP he simply appears to be wishing to be doing anything else at this moment. My first thought is that he is going to tell them to leave since they are clearly intoxicated but he just appears to want to get rid of them as fast as possible and that must be helping the man up, along with the woman. When they succeed and let him go he falls on his back again. The guard grabs his arm again, this time more aggressively, WHILE? the woman continues to beg the man to cooperate and just get up. //xx
They finally make it outside and get on the coach, I’m unsure ( WONDERIF ) of whether they know which one. I watch the coach leave the station until I can no longer see it. As I look around me again I notice a woman in front of me, possibly my mother’s age. She seems to look at me with a somewhat pitting PITYING? look, like she knows what I hasHAD just observed WAS something I had never come across before,P a little girl learning about an outside world she’d never witnessed.
Contextual Writing Critical Self - Analysis
Writing about my experience abroad has been an incredibly gratifying, unique experience. It has allowed me to reflect and consolidate in my mind the experiences I’ve had while in America, and the way in which I relate to them as an outsider. The idea of immortalizing my journey of studying abroad was incredibly appealing and after reading about different types of travel writing I felt like writing a memoir was the most effective way to capture the parts of America I had come in contact with.
My initial plan was to write three short fiction stories featuring a character that would be from and live in Oregon, the place I would be staying in while abroad. Upon further reflection, after arriving at what would be my university for the next five months I decided to write a memoir. This was mainly a decision derived from realizing how different each place in America was which when witnessing it first-hand felt like something that was worth concentrating on. Deciding what to concentrate on was surprisingly easy, I thought about moments I had observed in different times during this semester that I felt represented, in one way or another, the place I was in. Choosing moments that either shocked me, surprised me or both. I also reflected on how this related to me as a foreigner, how this changed or confirmed my pre-conceptions of America and how this made me feel. My main objective was for the reader to be able to get a glimpse at the American life, their culture and different way of living and thinking.
Writing a memoir was exceedingly interesting,P it was something I had never before attempted to do. To get a better understanding of what exactly goes into it I read several books about travel writing. The book that was particularly helpful was John Steinbeck’s Travels with Charley in Search of America. This book guided me in the writing of my memoir, it played an integral role in the way I wrote and thought about my piece of writing. Steinbeck writes about fairly mundane things, it didn’t so much feel like a story but more a documentation of the things he observed and experienced. As he himself says “I had not heard the speech of America, smelled the grass and trees and sewage, seen its hills and water, its color and quality of light.” (p) This THIS WOT? was something that I had in mind as I was writing, I wanted to capture the essence of the part of America I was in. Before starting to write I reflected on what would be the most effective way to document a part of my experience. I thought about what it was I was trying to convey and ideally, what it was I wanted the reader to take from it. My desire was for the piece to feel like a spontaneous recounting of a memory while also having an underlining significance.
My intention was for my writing to be as easy to read as possible, allowing the moment I choose to speak for itself. At the same time I was also striving to make the reader curious, make them reflect on what they are reading and encourage them to draw their own conclusions which is something I try to do with everything I write. I tried to write as faithfully as possible to my memory,P however I did add the always present comparison to previous and current assumptions and ideas I had about America which I believe made the piece more complete and helped place it in a wider context.
My first step to writing my memoir was to think of a compelling start, the first paragraph guided my approach to the retelling of my memory and influenced the way in which I told the story. The importance of language, structure and style of writing was highlighted to me while writing my memoir. It was especially interesting to consider the different ways in which I could approach what I was attempting to write. My focus was on trying to be as straightforward as possible, using colloquial, simple language. This was also to help preserve the everyday feel that I wanted to convey in my piece of writing,P this was after all a documentation of an everyday reality. I opted to write in the first person which was partly due to it being such a recent occurrence, I wanted to be able to include my own impressions and reactions, writing my own account of these moments, being an outsider looking in at a world not only new but very different from my own. Writing chronologically was done since my desire was for the three pieces to come together in a cohesive manner, representing the changes in my own understanding of American culture.
One of the things I struggled most with was finding the balance between sharing my thought and opinions while still trying to keep the piece somewhat objective. For example in the first part of my memoir I gave my opinion on how frustrating it was that the coach was late P however I did not share my opinion on the people featured in the story, whether this was the security guard, the man or the woman, I felt it important for the reader to make their own judgment.
In the first part of my memoir I was inspired by Waiting for Godot which was a comparison I had thought about while the situation was happening. I aimed at giving the feeling that I experienced in that moment, trying to replicate the feeling of repetition and lack of knowledge that Waiting for Godot inspires in me. Writing such a short account of a memory meant that I had to be more economical and purposeful with my words and the things I decided to mention. Take, for example, at the end of the first part how I made a point OFMENTIONINGto mention that the woman looking at me appeared to be my mother’s age whereas usually I would describe her in more detail and maybe focus on other aspects. Here, however it felt like an important thing to mention to show that this was an older, more experienced woman, a mother figure perhaps. This first part of my memoir was where more backstory is shared, this was important to give the reader some context which would guide them throughout the three parts of my memoir. The ending of this story was a way to demonstrate how this was a reality that I had never had contact with and to a certain extend was not aware existed, P this sets the tone for the next two parts of the memoir.
In the second part of my memoir I wanted to evoke the feeling of uncertainty, of not knowing what was going on which was exactly what I was feeling in the story, being in a somewhat familiar place while simultaneously feeling lost and surprised. I used more speech in this section because I felt it was important for it to be something that was said to me as opposed to something that I was telling was said to me so as to make it more vivid and replicate what I was feeling in that moment.
Finally, in the last part of my memoir I wanted the tone to be of uncertainty, an unfinished tale. I didn’t want there to be a clear conclusion, my wish was to mimic the unfinished journey that I was still on. Coming back to the people and situations I had never before witnessed or engaged with made the end of the memoir a circle.
My efforts while editing were specially concentrated in making the memoir economical and a purposeful account of moments that had an impact on me during MY? time abroad. I tried to preserve the natural flow the piece had in the first draft while making it concise and clear. My first draft for example, lacked some detail, in my attempt to be as economical and precise as possible I neglected making the story more detailed so as to make it more vivid which is something that I worked on adding on a second draft. Another thing that changed from my first draft was the switching of the present and past, my attempt to have both throughout the whole story was not quite successful and was something that I had HAVE? to improve on.
Overall, travel writing was incredibly interesting to do, it helped me reflect on my time abroad and the differences between cultures. I choose to illustrate moments that made me think twice, whether this was due to being completely unexpected, far from what is the norm back home or something incredibly expected from the prepossessed notions I had about the United States. These moments captured the things I felt were different and unique to the foreign state I was in which is really the objective of studying abroad. Not only was it an interesting exercise as a writer but also as an exchange student.
could you be a doll and read this as well - preferably before 10
This course proved itself to be equalLY ??? frustrating and rewarding. I was initially extremely nervous about it since I had never studied poetry or even read it on a regular basis. Besides a brief introduction in my first year of university which
consisted of writing Hh???aikus I had never before attempted to seriously write poetry. To go from that to writing poetry with the intent of it being shared and assessed was something I struggled with. Throughout the course I did become more comfortable with sharing my work and found it exceedingly interesting to explore different aesthetics, techniques and themes and attempt writing using these. One of the things that particularly surprised me is how things like lineation and form have a huge influence in the poem, sometimes even change it completely and how these decisions are sometimes instinctive, the poem taking us somewhere we had not planned in the beginning.
thank you xxx
(its a critical self reflection of the stories you read)
xxxx
Contextual Writing
Critical Self - Analysis
Writing about my experience abroad has been an incredibly gratifying, unique experience. It has allowed me to reflect and consolidate in my mind the experiences I’ve had while in America, and the way in which I relate to them as an outsider. The idea of immortalizing my journey of studying abroad was incredibly appealing and after reading about different types of travel writing I felt like writing a memoir was the most effective way to capture the parts of America I had come in contact with.
My initial plan was to write three short fiction stories featuring a character that would be from and live in Oregon, the place I would be staying in while abroad. Upon further reflection, after arriving at what would be my university for the next five months I decided to write a memoir. This was mainly a decision derived from realizing how different each place in America was which when witnessing it first-hand felt like something that was worth concentrating on. Deciding what to concentrate on was surprisingly easy, I thought about moments I had observed in different times during this semester that I felt represented, in one way or another, the place I was in. Choosing moments that either shocked me, surprised me or both. I also reflected on how this related to me as a foreigner, how this changed or confirmed my pre-conceptions of America and how this made me feel. My main objective was for the reader to be able to get a glimpse at the American life, their culture and different way of living and thinking.
Writing a memoir was exceedingly interesting, it was something I had never before attempted to do. To get a better understanding of what exactly goes into it I read several books about travel writing. The book that was particularly helpful was John Steinbeck’s Travels with Charley in Search of America. This book guided me in the writing of my memoir, it played an integral role in the way I wrote and thought about my piece of writing. Steinbeck writes about fairly mundane things, it didn’t so much feel like a story but more a documentation of the things he observed and experienced. As he himself says “I had not heard the speech of America, smelled the grass and trees and sewage, seen its hills and water, its color and quality of light.” (p) This was something that I had in mind as I was writing, I wanted to capture the essence of the part of America I was in. Before starting to write I reflected on what would be the most effective way to document a part of my experience. I thought about what it was I was trying to convey and ideally, what it was I wanted the reader to take from it. My desire was for the piece to feel like a spontaneous recounting of a memory while also having an underlining significance.
My intention was for my writing to be as easy to read as possible, allowing the moment I choose to speak for itself. At the same time I was also striving to make the reader curious, make them reflect on what they are reading and encourage them to draw their own conclusions which is something I try to do with everything I write. I tried to write as faithfully as possible to my memory, however I did add the always present comparison to previous and current assumptions and ideas I had about America which I believe made the piece more complete and helped place it in a wider context.
My first step to writing my memoir was to think of a compelling start, the first paragraph guided my approach to the retelling of my memory and influenced the way in which I told the story. The importance of language, structure and style of writing was highlighted to me while writing my memoir. It was especially interesting to consider the different ways in which I could approach what I was attempting to write. My focus was on trying to be as straightforward as possible, using colloquial, simple language. This was also to help preserve the everyday feel that I wanted to convey in my piece of writing, this was after all a documentation of an everyday reality. I opted to write in the first person which was partly due to it being such a recent occurrence, I wanted to be able to include my own impressions and reactions, writing my own account of these moments, being an outsider looking in at a world not only new but very different from my own. Writing chronologically was done since my desire was for the three pieces to come together in a cohesive manner, representing the changes in my own understanding of American culture.
One of the things I struggled most with was finding the balance between sharing my thought and opinions while still trying to keep the piece somewhat objective. For example in the first part of my memoir I gave my opinion on how frustrating it was that the coach was late however I did not share my opinion on the people featured in the story, whether this was the security guard, the man or the woman, I felt it important for the reader to make their own judgment.
In the first part of my memoir I was inspired by Waiting for Godot which was a comparison I had thought about while the situation was happening. I aimed at giving the feeling that I experienced in that moment, trying to replicate the feeling of repetition and lack of knowledge that Waiting for Godot inspires in me. Writing such a short account of a memory meant that I had to be more economical and purposeful with my words and the things I decided to mention. Take, for example, at the end of the first part how I made a point to mention that the woman looking at me appeared to be my mother’s age whereas usually I would describe her in more detail and maybe focus on other aspects. Here, however it felt like an important thing to mention to show that this was an older, more experienced woman, a mother figure perhaps. This first part of my memoir was where more backstory is shared, this was important to give the reader some context which would guide them throughout the three parts of my memoir. The ending of this story was a way to demonstrate how this was a reality that I had never had contact with and to a certain extend was not aware existed, this sets the tone for the next two parts of the memoir.
In the second part of my memoir I wanted to evoke the feeling of uncertainty, of not knowing what was going on which was exactly what I was feeling in the story, being in a somewhat familiar place while simultaneously feeling lost and surprised. I used more speech in this section because I felt it was important for it to be something that was said to me as opposed to something that I was telling was said to me so as to make it more vivid and replicate what I was feeling in that moment.
Finally, in the last part of my memoir I wanted the tone to be of uncertainty, an unfinished tale. I didn’t want there to be a clear conclusion, my wish was to mimic the unfinished journey that I was still on. Coming back to the people and situations I had never before witnessed or engaged with made the end of the memoir a circle.
My efforts while editing were specially concentrated in making the memoir economical and a purposeful account of moments that had an impact on me during time abroad. I tried to preserve the natural flow the piece had in the first draft while making it concise and clear. My first draft for example, lacked some detail, in my attempt to be as economical and precise as possible I neglected making the story more detailed so as to make it more vivid which is something that I worked on adding on a second draft. Another thing that changed from my first draft was the switching of the present and past, my attempt to have both throughout the whole story was not quite successful and was something that I had to improve on.
Overall, travel writing was incredibly interesting to do, it helped me reflect on my time abroad and the differences between cultures. I choose to illustrate moments that made me think twice, whether this was due to being completely unexpected, far from what is the norm back home or something incredibly expected from the prepossessed notions I had about the United States. These moments captured the things I felt were different and unique to the foreign state I was in which is really the objective of studying abroad. Not only was it an interesting exercise as a writer but also as an exchange student.This course proved itself to be equalLY ??? frustrating and rewarding. I was initially extremely nervous about it since I had never studied poetry or even read it on a regular basis. Besides a brief introduction in my first year of university which
consisted of writing Hh???aikus I had never before attempted to seriously write poetry. To go from that to writing poetry with the intent of it being shared and assessed was something I struggled with. Throughout the course I did become more comfortable with sharing my work and found it exceedingly interesting to explore different aesthetics, techniques and themes and attempt writing using these. One of the things that particularly surprised me is how things like lineation and form have a huge influence in the poem, sometimes even change it completely and how these decisions are sometimes instinctive, the poem taking us somewhere we had not planned in the beginning.
Personally, I enjoy reading poetry in which the more I reflect on the poem the more I unravel and take from it. I have tried to replicate this in my own poetry, some attempts being more successful than others. The desire to make it more reflexive has been influenced by my hesitation to share too much and my preference to write things in which the reader ( may ??) read while having their own interpretations and experiences in mind. One of my biggest struggles is being general while being specific. (IT CAN BE CHALLENGING TO FIND A ...???) )Finding the balance between making it too specific and by doing this perhaps making it unrelatable or not saying enough, to the point where the message does not come across. I think what I found BOTH most challenging and most fascinating during this course IS what you can say without actually saying.
I think the movement that has had aTHE biggest influence on my writing is The Objectivist movement in that I focus on everyday life and language and am also influenced by Imagism. Concrete imagery is something that I really appreciate and strive to use in my own poetry. I tend to use imagery to evoke something without saying it. I also really like to lean on metaphors as much as possible, as can be seen in poems such as ‘In case of Emergency’ and ‘My Mind’. In my poems I feel that I write in a straightforward way, tending to favour simple, colloquial, everyday language, finding a deeper meaning in the mundane, everyday things. It can be read just as a simple, perhaps amusing poem but upon further reflection a deeper meaning can be observed. My poetry tends to be reflexive, I strive to make the reader curious, make them reflect on what they are reading and make them draw their own conclusions from it.
This course proved itself to be equal parts frustrating and rewarding. I was initially extremely nervous about it since I had never studied poetry or even read it on a regular basis. Besides a brief introduction in my first year of university which consisted of writing HaikusP, I and??? had never before attempted to seriously write poetry. To go from that to writing poetry with the intent of it being shared and assessed was something I struggled with. Throughout the course I did become more comfortable with sharing my work and found it exceedingly interesting to explore different aesthetics, techniques and themes and attempt writing using these. One of the things that particularly surprised me is how things like lineation??? and form have a huge influence in the poem, sometimes even change it completely and how these decisions are sometimes instinctive,PPP?? the poem taking us somewhere we had not planned in the beginning.
Personally, I enjoy reading poetry in which the more I reflect on the poem the more I unravel and take from it, PPP I have tried to replicate this in my own poetry, some attempts being more successful than others. This THIS WOT?? is something that is also influenced by my hesitation to share too much and my preference to write things in which the reader can put their own interpretations and experiences into MW. Doing this was also one of my biggest struggles, being general while being specific CL. Finding the balance between making it too specific and by doing this perhaps making it unrelatable or not saying enough, to the point where the message does not come across. CLNV I think during this course this is both what I found most challenging and most fascinating, what you can say without actually saying CL.
I think the movement that has had a bigger THE BIGGEST? influence on my writing is The Objectivist movement in that I focus on everyday life and language and am also influenced by imagism??. Concrete imagery is something that I really appreciate and strive to use in my own poetry,PP? I tend to use imagery to evoke something without saying it. I also really like to lean on a metaphor MSETAPHORS? as much as possible, as can be seen in poems such as ‘In case of Emergency’ and ‘My Mind’. In my poems I feel that I write in a straightforward way, tending to favour simple, colloquial, everyday language, finding a deeper meaning in the mundane, everyday things. It can be read just as a simple, perhaps amusing poem but upon further reflection a deeper meaning can be observed. I also feel like my poetry tends to be reflexive, PP? I strive to make the reader curious, make them reflect on what they are reading and make them draw their own conclusions from itHello papi,
here it is - it's an artist statement for my poetry portfolio.
thank you!
xx
This course proved itself to be equal parts frustrating and rewarding. I was initially extremely nervous about it since I had never studied poetry or even read it on a regular basis. Besides a brief introduction in my first year of university which consisted of writing Haikus, I and had never before attempted to seriously write poetry. To go from that to writing poetry with the intent of it being shared and assessed was something I struggled with. Throughout the course I did become more comfortable with sharing my work and found it exceedingly interesting to explore different aesthetics, techniques and themes and attempt writing using these. One of the things that particularly surprised me is how things like lineation and form have a huge influence in the poem, sometimes even change it completely and how these decisions are sometimes instinctive, the poem taking us somewhere we had not planned in the beginning.
Personally, I enjoy reading poetry in which the more I reflect on the poem the more I unravel and take from it, I have tried to replicate this in my own poetry, some attempts being more successful than others. This is something that is also influenced by my hesitation to share too much and my preference to write things in which the reader can put their own interpretations and experiences into. Doing this was also one of my biggest struggles, being general while being specific. Finding the balance between making it too specific and by doing this perhaps making it unrelatable or not saying enough, to the point where the message does not come across. I think during this course this is both what I found most challenging and most fascinating, what you can say without actually saying.
I think the movement that has had a bigger influence on my writing is The Objectivist movement in that I focus on everyday life and language and am also influenced by imagism. Concrete imagery is something that I really appreciate and strive to use in my own poetry, I tend to use imagery to evoke something without saying it. I also really like to lean on a metaphor as much as possible, as can be seen in poems such as ‘In case of Emergency’ and ‘My Mind’. In my poems I feel that I write in a straightforward way, tending to favour simple, colloquial, everyday language, finding a deeper meaning in the mundane, everyday things. It can be read just as a simple, perhaps amusing poem but upon further reflection a deeper meaning can be observed. I also feel like my poetry tends to be reflexive, I strive to make the reader curious, make them reflect on what they are reading and make them draw their own conclusions from it.
1st Story
America was definitely leaving an impression, some people talk about how sometimes they don’t feel like they are someplace else until they are there for at least a day but as soon as I stepped out of the plane I knew I was in unfamiliar territory.
I had arrived in the States yesterday and been in Seattle for a little less than 24 hours. I had spent a night here and was now getting ready to leave the hotel room to get the coach to Salem where I would start my semester abroad. The morning was going relatively smoothly, I was woken up first by my alarm then by the wakeup call I had asked for the previous night just because I always saw it in films and wanted to try it. I’d gotten ready fairly quickly which meant I had time to do everything calmly after checking I haven’t left anything behind I go downstairs. I give the key card to the very friendly lady (especially considering the time) at the desk and walk outside where my Uber is already waiting for me. My coach was at 7 and it was currently 6.15 so I still had plenty of time considering the Greyhound station was only a 10 minute drive.
I drag along my big and my small suitcases and my backpack and enter the coach station. The station is relatively small, to my left the reception is visible as soon as I walk through the door. There aren’t many people here, there is a man sitting on the chair furthest from the door, his ginger hair and beard are long and not taken care of, his clothes are dirty, he sits with his arms crossed, head resting against the wall and eyes closed. Closer to the entrance are two man, possibly siblings they are both standing, they share a manly embrace before the other jokingly saying he loves the other, making kissy noises as he walks away.
I get my ticket out of my backpack and approach the counter. As soon as I start talking the man at the desk looks at me with a curious look in his eyes and I know he’s trying to figure out where my accent is from. As he asks me to weigh my bags he chats a little paying close attention to my answers, soon he’s asking me where I’m from and smiling, knowing he already knows the answer. As soon as I answer he proudly responds ‘I know, I could tell from your accent.’ (Little did I know interactions like these would repeatedly happen while here, people always proud that they’d ‘guessed’ correctly.)
We exchange a few more words and then I go sit and wait for my coach to Salem. I settle down in the middle of the row of chairs with a good view to the outside so I can see when the coach arrives. My bags surround me and I consider whether to get anything from the vending machine. Another person comes in and approaches the desk, I try to connect to the Wi-Fi but decide against being on my phone in fear of it running out of battery before I arrive my destination. I wonder if I should try to read a book or just sit and let my eyes wonder. On closer inspection the vending machine appears to only have food containing levels of sugar equal to the weekly recommended amount so probably not the best choice for breakfast. A security guard approaches the sleeping ginger haired man ‘Sir’, he says twice jolting him awake. ‘Do you have a ticket?’ the man doesn’t say anything, he tries to look confused and then feels his coat as if to find his ticket. The security guard sees right through this, ‘Come on man, you know I can’t let you stay here.’ The ginger haired man tries to convince him he does and when asked where answers he doesn’t know, the security guard tells him he has to leave, he tells him something else. Ultimately he gives up and leaves, lingering outside for a little bit until the security guard talks to him outside as well.
The coach is now 15 minutes late, then 30 minutes, I get up and go to the desk to ask the receptionist the reason for the delay and whether the coach will be here soon. He tells me he’s not sure what is happening but will look into it. At this point there are at least fifteen people waiting for the coach and yet no one else seems worried or annoyed that it’s still not here, no one gets up and passive aggressively asks what the matter is. I think back to the times I got a coach in Victoria Station and how rare delays seemed to be but if one were to happen ten different people would already be asking the man in the bright yellow vest what the holdup was.
I stop myself several times from going to ask, again, if the coach will be here soon. I’m unsuccessful a couple of times - ‘I have no idea what’s going on, no one has gotten in touch - Unsatisfied I go back to my seat. The man next to me makes a phone call letting someone know he will be at least two hours late and yet his voice shows no signs of annoyance, it’s like they think that a two hour delay is normal, the time in the ticket a mere suggestion. For some reason I am getting incredibly frustrated, it feels like an alternative reality where everything stands still while still moving and yet all that was happening was that the coach was late.
As we continue waiting a man and a woman come in. The woman is almost crushed by the weight of the door since she does not appear sufficiently strong or stable to open it enough to enter, she eventually succeeds. This woman looks unhealthy, her legs incredibly skinny, clad in pink leggings and what appear to be old ski boots that seem to weigh her down. The man looks equally unhealthy, he wobbles along next to the woman appearing even more unsteady. They both have what looks like fairly empty but nevertheless heavy camping backpacks. The woman’s legs look ready to crack under the weight and the man seems ready to topple backwards. They both stumble, unsteadily making their way to the coaches. The man sways with each step he takes, he appears to be incredibly drunk but also something else. He has to stop to get his bearings every time he takes a step, swaying backwards as if he’s going to give in to the weight of the bag. The woman, who also appears intoxicated but not drunk manages to walk more steadily despite her shaky legs. Every time the man stops she begs him to continue, frustration clear in her voice. They haven’t even moved completely away from the door when the man succumbs and falls on his back. He stays on the floor seeming to have no intention to get up. The woman, incredibly annoyed, tells him to ‘Get. Up.’ The man asks for ‘just a minute’ but she is having none of it - ‘NOW’ – when he does not move she pushes on his arm until he finally gets back on his unstable feet. Around me no one seems to be particularly shocked or recoiled by what is happening, just like the delay it just seems like an everyday occurrence.
They continue their journey from the very short distance between the door they came in from and the door leading them to the coaches. The man always on the verge of toppling backwards, which he does a few times, the woman responding in the same manner when it happens, the desperation and exhaustion in her voice getting clearer with each time. They pass me and the man almost knock over my suitcase but I’m able to move it on time. Almost at the door the man topples backwards again, this time landing on a girl’s bag. This girl looks about my age but she looks tougher, I think of what my reaction would be and how I would probably not even know what to do and would just continue where I was until he got up again and I could retrieve my bag. But this girl just looks annoyed, immediately huffing and saying something like ‘you have got to be kidding me’. She has absolutely no reservations in showing her annoyance, and instead of waiting for the man to get back up she pulls on the strap of her bag to retrieve it from under him, when she succeeds she struts to other side of the room and throws her back on the floor, kicking it to where she wants it.
The man and woman don’t even acknowledge her, the woman tries to get the man to get up: ‘Get up, come on, come on. Get. Up.’ You can tell she’s close to having had enough and is probably thinking of just leaving him there. A security guard finally intervenes, like the rest of the people he does not seem surprised by their state, he simply appears like he would rather be doing anything else at this moment. My first thought is that he is going to tell them to leave since they are clearly intoxicated but he just appears to want to get rid of them as fast as possible and that appears to be by trying to help the man up, along with the woman. When they succeed and let him go he falls on his back again. The security guard grabs his arm again, this time more aggressively, the woman continues to beg the man to cooperate and just get up.
They finally make it outside and get on the coach I’m unsure whether they now which coach they got onto. Their coach departs soon after they get on, I watch it leave the station until I can no longer see it. As I look around me again I notice a woman in front of me, possibly my mother’s age. She seems to look at me with a somewhat pitting look, like she knows what I just witnessed was something I had never come across before, a little girl learning about an outside world she’d never witnessed before.
2nd Story
Sunday mornings were days that my meal plan at the university did not cover so me and the other international girls liked to try out the brunch places downtown. Today we were going to try getting a table at The Kitchen which was a restaurant we’d heard good things about and although it also happened to be one of the only restaurants that was open on a Sunday, still we took it as a good sign the fact that every time we tried to go there we were never able to get a table. For some reason most of restaurants downtown closed on Sunday which didn’t seem to make much sense to us since we would have thought it was their busiest day. Every other time we’d asked for a table they would tell us it would be at least 30 minutes before they were able to give us a table. We’d tried calling before to make a reservation but all these restaurants did not take reservations on the weekend and yet that would not stop us from trying almost every Sunday since being here always to then decide to not wait and go someplace else instead.
On this Sunday, when we ask for a table they tell us it will be 30 minutes, as always we give our names and then decide to try the restaurants on the other side of the university instead. We walk the way back, about a ten minute walk and as we walk along Centre Street we chat about mundane things, still sleepy and incredibly hungry and not really in the mood to be walking in the rain. Soon we notice a group of people walking the opposite direction than us on the other side of the street. As we continue walking we see that this group of people does not seem to end and we realize there’s a March happening. - ‘Oh yeah, I think today is supposed to be the Woman’s March’ one of us remarks, we all nod in agreement, we had heard a few mentions of it but hadn’t realized it would be this Sunday. Being children of the 21st century our phones immediately come out, a post on Facebook, a snap, an Instagram video, it’s recorded and documented in all the ways we know how.
Woman, Men and Children march in the rain with their fighting faces on, with their chants and their posters. We all kind of want to join, kind of want to continue watching, kind of want to get some food, so we continue our way to the university, not really feeling the right to protest in a country that is not ours. We continue walking and as we approach the university we see what we think is the end of the march but as we walk a bit more we see another group of people, this one much smaller, at first they just seem to be people trying to decide where to go, perhaps if they were going to continue the march or if they’d had enough. We don’t immediately realize something is happening until we see a couple of policemen, with their policeman hats, on our side of the street looking on at the commotion, appearing ready to intervene at any moment if necessary. But as we walk we finally see the reason for this, on the other side of the street, being confronted by a few protesters is a man, his head shaved, combat boots and a huge Nazi flag. He stands proudly as people ask his ‘what the hell are you thinking?!’ and ‘why are you doing this’. Closer to the policemen now, one of us decides to ask: ‘Sorry, we are internationals students and we are just wondering what is going on?’ They inform us that there is a woman’s march going on and that there seems to be an individual that found it the perfect time to express his views. ‘Why would he do something like that?’ One of us naively asks. ‘It’s a free country so he can, of course some people don’t seem to realize that just because he can does not mean you should’ he says with a little shrug. We all look back at the confrontation, the policeman that had been silent tells us ‘Welcome to America!’, in a tone that shows a level of self-deprecation I had heard American weren’t too good at. Appearing to decide they do need to intervene they cross the street and try to calm everyone down.
We end up at another restaurant. They tell us it will be a 30 minute wait. We wait.
3rd Story
If there’s one thing I’ve caught on to while in America it’s that Americans do not seem to know the concept of half unless it’s the one they use for their coffee. They appear to either be incredibly nice and enthusiastic or anxious and depressed. You are either involved in as many things as possible or not involved at all. Either rich or struggling. There are either lights and casinos and people gambling and drinking away their money and shopping at Louis Vuitton or people begging for money and food or doing drugs in the bushes in broad daylight. There seems to be no middle ground.
Spring Break had just began, a few friends and I got a ride from another friend to San Francisco, California where the plan was to stay for a couple of nights before going to LA also for two nights and lastly Las Vegas. None of these places are familiar so we wanted to see everything.
The two days in San Francisco pass incredibly quickly we walked around the whole day and managed to see a lot of what we’d planned. After having dinner at a diner we make our way to the station where we are getting the coach to LA at mid night. The street are empty as we walk there, according to Google maps it’ a 10 minute walk, as the station comes into view we finally see people. We see a woman sitting on the side of the road, her back to us, appearing to me like she was drawing or reading. I’m dragging my suitcase behind me, talking to one of the girls, telling her about my reoccurring dream and she’s trying to interpret it. Mid conversation, from behind something hits me. She hit me on the head with an open hand. We all stop, I’m not even sure what is going on or how to react. I’m mostly shocked that someone you don’t even know just hits you like that for no reason. In my naivety and maybe even ignorance I think to myself, has she no manners, is she completely uncivilized?
We had not made eye contact or exchanged words, for all I knew she had not even noticed we were passing her. She now talks to me like she knows me, telling me to not say that again before hitting me once again, this time I see it coming so I manage to move slightly so she ends up hitting me on the side of the head instead. For some reason she decides that’s enough and starts walking backwards, as we start walking away from behind us she shouts ‘you pissed me of but I LOVE YOU’. We walk the short distance left to the station, a man sitting against the wall asks us if we are ok. ‘Yes, thank you’ I say.
My right ear feels warm from where she hit me, I can feel the blood rushing in its direction. We all stop and look at each other, the girls ask me if I’m ok: ‘Yes, thank you’. We replay the situation a few more times and come to the conclusion that she was high and clearly thinking I was someone she knew.
Once on the bus we settle down for the 8 hour journey, we are due to arrive in LA at 9 in the morning. As I sit looking out the window I think of what scenario could have been playing out in her head. Possibly one in which she is not in the streets, where she does not do drugs, where she has a roof and an ordinary life. I wonder if perhaps she was thinking I was someone she knows really well, like her sister who she use to fight with when they were kids. Maybe she thinks she’s nine again, mad at her sister for telling her parents on her and while arguing about it she hits her. Maybe that’s where she wishes to be, safe at home where the worse thing about her day was when her little sister tells on her.
Joana Meehan
HOBBIES AND INTERESTS:
Dear Sir / Madam,
I am a third year student STUDYING English Literature and Creative Writing at Roehampton University AND AM looking for a part-time job (that will help me develop skills while at university.)
I am interested in working with ---- as I think this would be an interesting, enrichening experience. I have both British and Portuguese nationality and speak both languages fluently. I CONSIDER MYSELF TO BE hard-working ( RELIABLE, CONSCIENTIOIUS AND curious??? AND HAVE INITIATIVE ) . I enjoy new challenges.
...
Please find my CV attached to this email for your consideration. Feel free to get in touch if you have any questions.
...
Thank you. ALL the best,
---Joana Meehan
Summary
A third year English Literature and Creative Writing student looking for a part-time job that not only will help me develop skills while at university but WILL also be an interesting, enrichening experience. I have both British and Portuguese nationality and speak both languages fluently. I CONSIDER MYSELF TO BE hard-working ( RELIABLE, CONSCIENTIOIUS AND curious??? AND HAVE INITIATIVE ) . I enjoy new challenges.
...
I am responsible, hard-working and enjoy new challenges.
Education and Training
University of Roehampton, London - BA in English Literature and Creative Writing :2016-current);
Willamette University, Oregon, US – Semester abroad :Jan. – Jun. 2018);
Antonio Arroio Secondary School, Lisbon, Portugal BACCALAUREAT = EQUIVALENT TO A levels : Completed in 2014.
WORK Experience
Regular work at Roehampton University INCLUDING
- bar work,
- NSS survey
- tour guide on open days;
put in list to make it sound out more
WAITRESS, ( no need to say brief!) Café Piazza Hays Galleria, 18-19 Hay's Ln, SE1 2HD London;
Au Pair ( ON MY GAP YEAR ) in Greenwich, London.
obv. b4 uni.)
*Flat Rep
- welcome and support the new students to campus on arrival
- settle in to university life
Dealing with THE NEW STUDENTS' concerns and issues that arise has helped me not only be more empathetic but also GAVE ME VALUABLE EXPERIENCE managing different personalities.
*Volunteering at Fulbright BUT WOT DID U DO?? USA College Day - Study Abroad Fair.
Volunteering at Center for Hope and Safety, an agency that offers a safe refuge and support to victims and survivors of domestic violence, sexual assault, stalking and human trafficking in Salem, Oregon.
Skills and Achievements
Studying abroad has made me more confident and assertive when facing new roles and tasks I have little experience in as well as made me more flexible and able to adapt to unexpected circumstances.
Programme Rep for the three years at my University which has taught me how to be observant, listen carefully and voice student’s concerns in an objective manner.
Taekwondo achieved blue stripe red belt.
References
References, Certificates and related documentation will be presented upon request.
HOBBIES AND INTERESTS:
-
-
-
-
Languages
English and Portuguese: BI-LINGUAL
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Dear Sir / Madam,
I am a third year student doing English Literature and Creative Writing at Roehampton University looking for a part-time job that will help me develop skills while at university.
I am interested in working with ---- as I think this would be an interesting, enrichening experience. I have both British and Portuguese nationality and speak both languages fluently. I am hard-working, curious and enjoy new challenges.
Please find my CV attached to this email for your consideration. Feel free to get in touch if you have any questions.
Thank you and all the best,
Joana Meehan
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