"I'm giving it all she's got Captain!"

That statement can pretty much sum up my experiences in this English class. What were my expectations in the beginning? Well, for starters I was not going to assume it was an easy class. I had done that with my two previous English classes here at AVC and got a "C" in both for my troubles. I wondered after the second "C," what gave me the right to be some arrogant prick entering both of those classes? And if I had to guess when it started, I would say that after I had taken two A.P. English classes in high school I had an over-exuberance of swag. I was cocky, well beyond simple confidence in my abilities, my mentality was: I've done this before, I received good marks then, so now I should be fine. Wrong. Nothing could have been farther from the truth, and I found myself eating that humble pie more often than my pride would like to admit. But I am in no way lamenting about this, I am in fact ecstatic that this learning "phase" happened now, before I became stubborn in my ways and I am even more glad that it happened here at AVC, instead of when I am forking out almost $20,000 dollars to attend classes. But, I made it, I am one step closer to my goal.
On June 3rd I can finally say, "Peace, I am going to the big town." I will be moving to L.A. and attending Cal State Dominguez Hills, which ironically enough is Jennifer's alma mater. But the road to this was not easy, it was not the well-beaten path, but I can say with absolute conviction that I am proud of the results. Had I not taken a semester off I would not have been where I am at today and I would not have gotten to know the people I know. But there is one regret I wish I could have done right, I wish I could have had the knowledge that I have now back then. It is funny how that works, hindsight is always 20/20 and obstacles that should have been relatively easy to overcome took more energy than we would have thought possible. I have learned so much in this class and I have made friends that are second to none. This semester has flown by, but the lessons I learned will stick with me forever.
I was not a great writer, and like Melissa quoted it is like "cutting yourself open" at times. But I think my writing has come a long way, just like many others in this class. Although some of us may never see each other past this year I can say that it was a hell of a time.
The discussions we had were hilarious, inspirational, frustrating (at times), emotional, and overall stimulating. I learned to love reading again (A.P. classes had a little part in causing my distaste for reading leisurely beyond what was required) and I also learned how to effectively deliver my point in a manner that will not have my message fall on deaf ears. That lesson, in it of itself is worth all the time I spent in this class. It will be a sad day to have to leave home and be a visitor here, but my path needs to be created, I want to make my mark in the world and the only way I can do that is by not looking back and, "giving it all she's got Captain..."

Procrastinator! Who me?

Ok so if I had written this on Monday, when I originally planned to, I would have had a despicable confession to make... but since it is Friday I have some really proud accomplishments to speak about. Firstly I have almost completed my paper! This unfortunately the pinnacle of my progress report because I still need to include my sources appropriately throughout my paper. So my work, in a way, could be viewed as not even being close to finished because this could potentially make or break the paper because it is a research paper. And like everyone else in class, I do not want to screw this paper up. I am sure many of us were flipping out because when we were first assigned this paper we thought we could research the materials and begin drafting our papers in no time. God, how I wish life was conscientious to the fact that this paper has the weight to potentially crush our hard work throughout this semester. Aside from the fact that all my other classes have dramatically increased my workload either due to lack a of planning/ forethought on the progress of some students or some unforeseen circumstances beyond anyone's control this semester has thrown everything but the kitchen sink at me. Now to some this would seem like mindless cliche banter, but in all honesty, that shit just happened. In my Stats class my teacher was involved in a car crash that totaled her car and she was healing from her injuries for a week and a half. This was difficult to rebound back from, we are still a little behind but it is not by much so we should be fine. In my Spanish class our instructor has made lessons that should only last about twenty minutes last almost an hour and a half. Yet on difficult lessons that should take almost an hour to learn, practice, and execute properly she spends ten minutes and expects us to have it down to a science. Now I respect my instructor and I have learned much in this Spanish class than I had in classes I previously had in high school but we are so behind that over this last week and next week we will have to cover two chapters that, so far, appear to be more complicated than what we have had. But all this is neither here nor there, the work needs to be done, the material needs to be learned, I just hope my brain doesn't explode before June third.
But getting back to the topic at hand, my paper, I feel as though this semester has forced me to have a love-hate relationship with all my classes but more specifically with English. I love the material we have learned so far, yet I hate the amount of work we have had to do to learn this wonderful material. I feel as though in this English class I have learned more in one semester than all my other semesters or years in English. But this knowledge has come with a price, I do not have the energy to do anything but my coursework. Going out with friends makes me feel bad, watching television makes me feel like a waste, even spending time with my family consumes me with guilt, my conscience is stretched to the breaking point, along with the rest of my being. Did I procrastinate? Yes I did. I pushed things off until the last possible opportunity whether by conscious choice or plain necessity, it happened. And now that I am here at this moment in time, I have a job to do. So I will get back to it, like I am sure many of you will and hopefully finish it correctly so that way my guilt can be rectified, and my body can finally stop being so strung up from all this tension.

As Cold as the Other Side of the Pillow

My writing style is for the most part to the point. Since I spend a lot of time and energy in elaborating other aspects of my life when I communicate online it is really direct, simple, and almost always lacks the "fluff" of bullshit. Growing up my teachers used to tell me I needed to "fluff" up my writings to make it interesting, but to add mindless details is not my idea of "fluffing."  I would much rather write with a tone of voice that establishes a context with my reader; I would rather tell you what I am thinking or feeling than rather "allude" to it. If you need a map and a compass to find out what I am trying to tell you, then miscommunications happen. And I do not like miscommunications, so many arguments happen whenever there is a miscommunication. But what I hate more than a miscue is reading someone else's work and realizing half the crap they wrote about could have been omitted, and I would not have wasted x amount of minutes of my life. If I wanted to read a good story I would, if I need to know what is going on, spare me the details and give it to me straight.
Now with all that being said there are times when "fluff" is necessary. Some of us cannot handle the bluntness of certain truths. And as I have been told by many people I am "rotten at this game" whenever I try to "ease the blow" I end up failing, miserably. Now I realize this comes from the no BS attitude I have adopted over time. But in life there is no easy way to say anything, and no matter how you say it, someone ends up getting hurt. People have told me that I come off as being an insensitive jerk, and although I apologize profusely they still tell me that I could lighten up a bit. I do not mean to sound cold and callous but sometimes there just is no other way to say it. And I am not the coldest-hearted person, there have been people that I have spoken to that make me look like a care bear compared to them, but I do have some cold-hearted moments and during these times they are usually a result of my lack of options. When I argue with people I get cold-hearted real quick, I forget that I am just arguing with someone that I know and potentially care about, and so when things are said they are said in the most untactful fashion, and I often regret some things, but I have worked on this to thaw my tone a bit. And I find that although life is cold, I do not always have to be. I do not want to be the ass hole that everyone hates and does not want to get to know.

Fat Kitty, Kitty...

I recently had the privilege of admiring a lot of Garfield cartoons because my girlfriend loves them. She is absolutely in love with Garfield and his antics. I have to agree, his actions are just plain, "awesome." His lazy nature, and counter productive attitude is hilarious, but that is not the only reason why I am starting to fall in love with the cartoons. I used to own a cat and his name was Monty, yet his name should have been Garfield. I believe that he was Garfield brought to life, he was a Turkish Angora mix, with slight shades of orange running down his back. Garfield loves to eat lasagna, Monty loved to eat anything he could get a hold of, his palette for food knew no bounds, but he did love dairy products. One day I made breakfast for myself and I put sour cream on top of whatever I was eating then I turned away for a split second to grab a fork to dig in, but when I turned around Monty had not only jumped on the table but was helping himself to the sour cream. Looking back I think that if I had left him to it I am sure he would have eaten my breakfast. I could not help but laugh when I seen him on top of the table but I was hungry so I took him off and gave him the sour cream off of my food and I had to remake my breakfast. Garfield is drawn by Jim Davis and I think that Jim must have had a cat similar to mine wandering around. My parents have owned three cats before I brought Monty home as a kitten so we knew the drill of how to take care of them but Monty was in a league of his own. That cat was smart, whenever I was home he had to be near me, whenever I got up to grub I started to notice Monty would run to his food bowl when I opened the fridge. As an experiment one day I got up to open the fridge for the heck of it, twice, and I did not get any food out of it. Yet when I looked at Monty he somehow knew that just by me getting up and opening the fridge it meant it was chow time. That cat was fat and lazy just like Garfield, sometimes when I would come home after work, he would get up and rush to see me at the door then after he knew it was me he went into sloth mode. In every sense of the word bum he fit every category well. If Monty could have spoken I imagine the conversations we would have had would have probably been like those between Jon and Garfield. A sort of tete a tete between two sarcastic, lazy individuals, and I would have loved every minute of it. Monty was a great cat, but he was strictly an indoor cat because the poor boy could not fight to save his fat butt; his brother Sammy used to wrestle him down and push him around all the time. It was always a funny thing to see during the day but the sound of bells ringing back and forth was a major pain in the ass at two in the morning. I am sure wherever Monty is, his new owner is probably enjoying that cat's company and I am sure there could never be another Monty, he was my Garfield and he has left the bar high for any other cat my family will  own.