Hello again. This is going to be my fourth blog post. In English Composition I, we read and discussed the short story Hills Like White Elephants by Ernest Hemingway. A theme I noticed was confused and possibly anger. My scene has those themes as well. Here is a little incite before you begin reading. This conversation takes place in a mental hospital. I had attempted suicide last year around this time, and got sent to inpatient. I was admitted at night so I didn't have the chance to see the doctor. Normally you see one right away. This is the conversation that went down while talking tot he doctor the next morning.
I Don't Care!! *tap tap tap tap* I can feel it. Stop tapping. This nervous tick, this habit is going to be the death of me. I’m waiting to meet with the doctor. Just remember what we rehearsed. “Jaime?” He walks in and scans the room until he meets my eyes. I freeze. My heart drops to my stomach as I feel my words begin to get caught in my stomach. I tell myself repeatedly, you know what to say. I get up reluctantly and follow him to a room, 2nd door on the right. Please don’t shut the door. I sit across from an empty chair as he shuts the door, leaving it open a crack. Oh thank God. “How are you feeling?*tap tap tap tap* I can feel it. Stop tapping. This nervous tick, this habit is going to be the death of me. I’m waiting to meet with the doctor. Just remember what we rehearsed. “Jaime?” He walks in and scans the room until he meets my eyes. I freeze. My heart drops to my stomach as I feel my words begin to get caught in my stomach. I tell myself repeatedly, you know what to say. I get up reluctantly and follow him to a room, 2nd door on the right. Please don’t shut the door. I sit across from an empty chair as he shuts the door, leaving it open a crack. Oh thank God. “How are you feeling?" He asks. "I'm fine" "Well clearly you're not since you're here" He tries to joke lightly, but I'm not in the mood. I need to talk about something important. "Haha. So funny." I say dryly, suddenly becoming aware of my tongue. He continues by asking basic mental health questions and I respond automatically as if by memory. As he speaks I'm observing everything in the room. One exit. Two chairs. Six cabinets. One desk. One computer. One overhead light. That's why its so dim in here. One clear bin. Light brown floor. "Did you hear me?" The doctor's words aren't muffled anymore and the sound throws me off. "Sorry. I got distracted." I dismiss his question and just stare. "I said, what brings you in to this facility?" I know this dumb bitch knows why I'm here. I take a deep breath and begin to speak. "Well I tried to kill myself, I went to the hospital and now I'm here." I take another breath as he waits for me to continue. "I don't want to take medicine anymore. When I was in the ICU, I was doing some research. The day program I went to diagnosed me with BPD, Borderline Personality Disorder, and-" "Why do you think you have BPD?" He cuts me off. I bit my tongue before continuing. "Well as I was saying, my treatment team diagnosed me with borderline personality disorder and I wanted to learn more about what it was exactly, so I looked into it. I read that medication isn't the only solution. Therapy, intensive therapies could work and I want to try that. I'm tired of trying new medication and it making me feel worse." He took a few minutes to respond which irritated me further. "I don't think you have BPD, and you can't go off medication without slowly decreasing. If you do stop all at once, there could be side affects, so it's better to put you back on the medication and then slowly ween you off." At this point I'm angry. I know I can't bite my tongue much longer. "That doesn't make any sense." I'm going to tell him how it is. "Since I decided to take 200 pills, I wasn't allowed to take medication for 2 days. Why should I have to start something that makes me think and feel like dying? I'm here aren't I? You all will watch me anyways." *tap tap tap tap* There it is again. The damn tapping. My leg is bouncing as I feel my throat close up, my words getting stuck. The doctor starts talking. Again. "You see, the way you are acting could be from not being on the medication. And switching your medication wouldn't be difficult. You could try something that may work." The rest of his words are muffled. I'm done listening to him. He doesn't listen to us! I'm done talking. I want to cry and yell at the same time, yet I can't. My body shuts down, my brain shuts down. I stop him from continuing. "I'm done talking to you." His words are inaudible as I stand up and walk out, shutting the door gently behind me. I continue down the hallway feeling the rush coming. Cold tears cool my hot face as I see the nurse's station getting closer. I know my face is red with anger. "I hate him, I want a different doctor. I wanna talk to my mom. He isn't listening to me." I feel myself losing control as I start to cry harder, trying to explain to the nurse. I can't do this, I can't do this. I'm going crazy. He doesn't understand how this feels. This gnawing at my brain. I want to talk to my mom so she can tell him. No one listens to us while we're here because we're all "sick". They act like we can't make our own decisions. I know what I need for myself. "What happened with the doctor? And we can't call your mom until you speak to your social worker." The nurse says apologetically. Can't she see I'm crying? I feel like I'm losing control. Thinking is getting harder and harder. I give a brief explanation of what went down with the doctor. "He's not listening to me! I said everything in a respectful way. I thought everything through. He doesn't fucking listen to me!" My breaths become short as I gasp for air. I'm desperately trying to calm down, and I know I can't do this alone. I need my mom. "I just want to talk to my mom. Can't you call my social worker?" I see the doctor approaching out of the corner of my eye. "Jaime, can you please come back to the room?" "I don't want to talk to you anymore." I say as I give him a death glare. The pain in my chest becomes noticeable now. He continues to try and talk to me, but I just turn away and ignore him. I notice my *one to one comes up to me speaking low enough for only me to hear. "Do you wanna talk with me in the day room? The doctor doesn't have to come in with us." "Yes please." I let my guard down as I sniffle and slowly nod my head feeling tired and weak. I'm tired of fighting. I just want people to listen to me.. please. I sit down in the day room and immediately start to cry, my one to one handing me a tissue. “Sweetheart. I think you should try and talk to him again.” I try to cut her off but she puts her hand up. “I know you don’t want to, but just finish talking to him and you won’t have to see him again.” I reluctantly say yes and the doctor comes in as she leaves. My guard is back up and I listen. Please, god let me get this over with. “Not everything can be solved with just therapy. A small amount of medication can be helpful along side therapy. Even if you stop, you’ll have withdrawal symptoms. You could attempt again, you’ll have mood swings. It’s not easy and it’s not fun. Are you willing to risk those symptoms?” The doctor talked as if he had me pulled in. I’m not falling for it. I know how medication makes me feel. I don’t want that.. not again.. “Yes.” I said with a monotone voice and dead eyes. The doctor seemed surprised with my short response compared to earlier ones. “Ok. Now do you think you still need your one to one?” ”Yes, I still need her.” ”Ok -“ That’s all I hear as I start to lose focus. I can’t do this anymore. If I’m stuck here longer than I have to be then I’ll lose it. I just want my mom. I don’t want to be alone anymore. I hate how he’s not listening to me. I can’t just scream.. I mean we can but okay. I’m too busy talking to myself that his next words throw me off. ”... and I’m taking you off your one to one, and..” His voice drowns out again. “Wait. I said I still want my one to one.” I speak frantically, afraid to lose the only person who seems to care in this place. “Well I don’t think you do. I think you’ll be fine once you adjust throughout the day.” He walks out and I stay where I am, not following him. My chest hurts, I can’t stop biting my tongue, and I want to cry again. My one to one comes in and says goodbye. “Don’t worry, I’ll see you around since I am a nurse here. If you need me let the other nurses know okay?” I nod and follow her out of the room. I sit on the floor opposite of the nurses station as my mind starts to go blank. Tears slowly roll down my face as I feel helpless and alone. I don’t hear anything, I don’t feel anything. I just sit and wait for the group I’m apart of to come back from breakfast. *one to one- Someone, typically a nurse, is required to stay with a patient due to high risk of suicide or aggressive behavior
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Hello and welcome to my third blog post in English Composition I. We were to read My Name is Margaret by Maya Angelou, a small excerpt from I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. In this short story, a young girl has lost apart of herself. She lost a main part of her identity, which was her name, due to someone else’s convenience. The theme here is loss, and my post also has a theme of loss. My father was the loss, but the object I have helped with it.
Soft Christmas music is playing, as my mother drives us to church. Tonight was just like any other church night, except there are more people in the parking lot than I remembered. My sisters and I all climbed out of the purple mini van. The van had a dent in it from my older sister, it’s by the gas tank. My sisters and I crowded around my mom as she told us the plan for the night. “Tonight you’ll all be getting a gift from daddy for Christmas!” My mom exclaimed with an excited look on her face. I jumped up excited at the fact that we are getting presents but also at the fact that I’ll be seeing my dad after 4 months. “Is daddy going to be here too?” I asked for my sisters and I, we all biting our lips in anticipation. My mom looked down at us and said “I'm sorry baby, he won’t be here tonight, but you’ll be getting presents like all the other kids tonight!” I knew this was her attempt to make me feel better but it wasn’t working. I smiled and nodded, playing along, and followed my mom and sisters into the church. I’m mad. I don’t understand why my dad can’t come see us. Doesn’t he miss us? The question played in my mind as I took in the smell of food. My stomach growled low as the scent of ham, Mac and cheese, mashed potatoes and so much more, hit my nose. Along the wall by the church’s kitchen door was three long tables of food, set up buffet style. My mom nudged me along and said I was allowed to grab food. My sisters and I didn’t move unless our mom did. We were always this shy. After I grabbed some food, I sat down, and it looked like everyone else got their food. Some people were still coming in, but someone in charge said it was time for prayer. I watched as everyone put their head down and closed their eye. I took this opportunity to look around the room. My eyes scanned over the food, across the tables of people. I looked at the corner in the far left where the tree and gifts lay. There were at least twenty presents under the tree. I smiled seeing that there were enough gifts for everyone. I heard prayer was almost up, so I quickly put my head down. "Amen!" Everyone said amen together, and all of the families surrounding mine seemed so happy to be together. Someone started to yell out last names in alphabetical order. I ate and talked to my mom and sisters for a little while. "Why isn't daddy coming?" I asked my mother again, hoping her answer would change. I was on the verge of tears because its been 4 months already and i was beginning to think he wasn't coming back. "Baby" My mom began, I could tell this wasn't her favorite question to answer, "He can't come tonight, but he made sure to get you each a gift for Christmas, to make up for it." She didn't exactly answer my question but I let it go. I glanced over at a boy that I thought I recognized at out table. He was the kid that bullied me on the bus ride to school. He seemed sad, even though everyone else was happy. I understood and we both looked away from each other without speaking a word. "Moore!" It came time for us to go get our gifts. I said thank you to whoever handed me the soft lump wrapped in snowflake wrapping paper. I stared for along time. Everything happened in slow motion. I blinked back tears that were trying to escape all night. I held a soft grey elephant. A stuffed animal. As I shifted it around in my hands, i felt the beads inside shift back and forth. The stomach of the elephant was almost as soft as silk. I squeezed the elephant close to my body and vowed to never let him go. He made the night easier. I lost my father for the past 10 years, and this elephant was the first gift I got from him. I didn't realize at the time that I used it as a place holder for my father. Anytime I look at the elephant I remember the moment I got him and how I felt and how it made me feel happy and safe. The moment I got the elephant everything changed. That night I felt so many things but after being given the elephant, I didn't lose as much of myself as I thought. This is the official second blog post! Here is an attempt at writing a short story. I still would like to revise and fix this, but here the current level I am at writing wise. Learning more about the writing process through these readings has helped a lot with this assignment.
Teach Writing as a Process Not a Product (Don Murray) Against Vanity: In Praise of Revision (Mary Karr) Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life (Anne Lamott) I'm sitting here on the couch in the family room, trying to finish piecing together my second blog post for English Composition I. I'm about to listen to a live podcast. As I turn the volume up, I can hear familiar murmurs start to get louder and clearer. The host announces three guest 'stars' as Don Murray, Mary Karr, and Anne Lamott. After these names were said, I remembered that the podcast took calls, like a radio station would. I called as quick as possible and hoped my call would get through. "Hello? Who are we speaking to?" Anne Lamott's voice came through on the other end. I realized this is perfect since i have writer's block. "Hi! I'm Jaime Moore. I can't believe I get to talk to you three. The reason I called in was, if you don't mind, to ask you all a few questions? I'm working on an assignment for English and I figured I'd ask for help since I have a little writers block." Don Murray spoke up next, "You may ask questions. We'd be happy to answer them all." "How do you get started with writing?" I asked right away. Anne Lamott speaks, "Just get it all down on paper because there may be something great in those six crazy pages that you would never have gotten by more rational, grown-up means." Mary Karr nodded in agreement and said, "Let your mind roam down some alleys that may land in dead ends - thats the nature of the process." After hearing the two speak, I felt I understood why starting that way would be helpful. I quickly move on as to not waste any time. "Okay so next question is for Don Murray." I then added with a small laugh, "anyone can of course. Is there a set way to do this? Any rules?" "There are no rules, no absolutes, just alternatives. What works one time may not another. All writing is experimental." Don said carefully. Mary Karr popped back into the conversation responding quickly, "In the beginning, when there are zero pages, you have to cheer yourself into cranking stuff out, even if it later lands on the cutting room floor. Each page takes you somewhere you need to travel before you can land in the next spot." Hearing the same thing in two different ways helps me understand better. "I like that with writing we can just write, there are no rules. I don't want to take up too much of your time so here are two final questions." " First, since there are no rules, can I still expect a first draft to look good?" Anne Lamott clearly states, "The first draft is the child's draft, where you let it all pour out and then let it romp all over the place, knowing that no one is going to see it and that you can shape it later." I mumbled 'interesting' as Don Murray went, "Writing is the act of producing a first draft. It is the fastest part of the process, and the most frightening, for it is a commitment." I like hearing the two different opinions. I like that Don is so honest and relatable with the fact that the first draft is most definitely frightening because you dont want anyone to read it. I moved on to the last question. "What advice about the writing process would you give to anyone listening to the podcast? Whether it be teachers of students." Don started, eager to leave I assume, " Instead of teaching finished writing, we should teach unfinished writing and glory in its unfinishedness." Anne followed, " One writer I know tells me that he sits down every morning and says to himself nicely, 'It's not like you don't have a choice, because you do - you can either type or kill yourself." She laughed after the last part. I like how there is humor to that but it does go along with the process. There are different ways people cope, or get through their writing, and a little motivational phrase helps. It may even help with the thinking process of, calm down, and breathe. You do have a choice, maybe not to that extreme, but again, anything helps. Mary Karr then finishes off the podcast with a refreshing piece of advice, "Remind yourself that revising proves your care for the reader and the nature of your ambition." I smiled, even though I know they cannot see me, and said goodbye. "Thank you so much for answering my questions. I'm ready to do this." Hello! I am Jaime Moore, and this is my first blog post for my English Composition I class. The Proust Questionnaire is the main focus of this post. The basis of this questionnaire is believed to show someones true nature as said by Marcel Proust, a French essayist and novelist. Here is MY true nature.
__1.__What is your idea of perfect happiness? Perfect happiness is when everyone gets along. No one gets jealous or angry. People can speak their mind without judgment or fear of being offensive. __2.__What is your greatest fear? My greatest fear is going deaf and blind at the same time. I would be really scared because I would lose both major senses. __3.__What is the trait you most deplore in yourself? I do not like the fact that I am "possessive" of my friends when it comes to my twin sister. I've always been anxious of the fact that they may favor her more than me. __4.__What is the trait you most deplore in others? I do not like the closed minded mindset in others. They can be so wrong and sound so awful, instead of just being 'understanding while having a disagreement', __5.__Which living person do you most admire? I admire my mother so much. She raised 3 girls on her own for the past 10 years. I think she did an amazing job, and I'm so proud of her. It was not an easy task. __6.__What is your greatest extravagance? I think my greatest extravagance is my phone. I pay $90 a month for 2 years. That's a lot of money. __7.__What is your current state of mind? My current state of mind is muddy. Thoughts are coming through, but it's because I have something to think about right now __8.__What do you consider the most overrated virtue? I believe justice is overrated. Nowadays people want justice for everything, but majority of the time, justice is given to the wrong people. I feel like people forget sometimes what justice really is. __9.__On what occasion do you lie? I lie the most when protecting a friend, or when i need more time (for anything) I lie when I don't want to be judged for doing something I may enjoy. i.e. Anime, or kid games __10.__What do you most dislike about your appearance? I do not like my stomach or under my eyes. I get dark circles from my mom, and I've struggled with weight gain/loss so my body is not where I want it. __11.__Which living person do you most despise? I despise a girl from Sophomore year of high school. It was a very toxic friendship and the way things ended were horrible. She was just an awful person and it triggered a lot of things the rest of high school. __12.__What is the quality you most like in a man? I like when a man is light and playful, but knows when its time to be serious. It's nice to joke around from time to time. __13.__What is the quality you most like in a woman? I like when a woman can show shes powerful without being a showboat about it. She can shut you down with a smart remark. Love that. __14.__Which words or phrases do you most overuse? The words I overuse are: Lit, same, wot, bro, whatever. The phrase I overuse is "I wanna die." I do not wanna actually die, I'm just so stressed that that's the phrase I go to. __15.__What or who is the greatest love of your life? The greatest love of my life is Metals and Jewelry. I fell in love with that art form in Sophomore year of high school. And it will be my life's work. __16.__When and where were you happiest? I was happiest when I was 8 years old. I was walking through the woods with my mom, and we came across a fallen tree branch. We were pretending to be princesses on an adventure, and since we couldn't physically lift the branch, my mom said we should wait for the king to come home. My dad was the king, and he came to the rescue. When he came home from work, we went back out and he helped us finish our adventure. I'll always remember this moment, and it was the happiest point in my life. __17.__Which talent would you most like to have? I would like to have a photographic memory. I wouldn't forget definitions or information for tests and quizzes. I barely remember anything now so it would be cool if I could remember everything. __18.__If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? I would change my mindset/relationship with food. I would like to look forward to a meal than to see it as a chore. __19.__What do you consider your greatest achievement? My greatest achievement was having 2 art pieces in the Delaware County Community College art show. One was earlier this year, and the other was 2 years ago. __20.__If you were to die and come back as a person or a thing, what would it be? If I were to die, I would want to come back as paint. Everyone loves paint! __21.__Where would you most like to live? I would like to live in Paris. Pretty cliche right? I love the French language. If only I could speak French. __22.__What is your most treasured possession? My most treasured possession, is a stuffed elephant. I've had him since 2009. I got him from my father shortly after he went to prison. Christmas of 2009, was on of the two best Christmas' I've had. __23.__What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery? The lowest depth of misery is when you feel no emotion, no hope, nothing. You feel nothing so much that you feel the only action left to take is to kill yourself. Not because you don't know you have people who love you. Not because you don't know people care. But because you don't feel anything. There is nothing left. That's the lowest depth. __24.__What is your favorite occupation? My favorite occupation would have to be a business owner. I'm aiming for that goal in my future. That's one of the reasons I'm going to college. __25.__What is your most marked characteristic? My most marked characteristic is most likely 'kind'. I get that a lot. Or I'll get the word 'sweet'. I just enjoy being a nice person to people so I don't mind being described as these words. __26.__What do you most value in your friends? I value their trust and honesty with me. It's like that for each of us. I hope anyway. I wouldn't be here without any of them. __27.__Who are your favorite writers? My FAVORITE writer is Shel Silverstein. 100%. I loved his poetry and illustrations as a kid, and I still do. I always will. __28.__Who is your hero of fiction? My hero of fiction? Ichigo Kurosaki. He's from the anime ' Bleach'. My dad got my twin and I into that anime. I feel like the major reason I love this character so much is because of my dad. Ichigo will do anything for his family friends and I like that. I admire it. __29.__Which historical figure do you most identify with? Honestly I don't know history all that well. So I don't really identify with any historical figure. __30.__Who are your heroes in real life? My mother, father and great-grandmother are my real life heroes. We call my great-grandmother, GG. She is an absolute saint. She's kind, beautiful, funny, and understanding. She's 94, and still kicking! I love her so much. My mom has always been there for me. She's an amazing person. She has drive and love, and respect for others. The whole room lights up when she walks in. My dad, due to circumstances, was gone for 10 years. He was as present as he could be, and the memories I have with him are enough to make a huge impact on me. He's a great person and an amazing father. __31.__What are your favorite names? My favorite names are: James, Jayden, Aidan, Elton, Jasmine, and CHRIS. __32.__What is it that you most dislike? I hate coconut with a passion. It's disgusting. My mother made it worse for me. For a while she cooked with coconut oil, and since then I just couldn't eat or tolerate even a small amount of coconut. __33.__What is your greatest regret? My greatest regret was eating meat again. I was a vegetarian for 2 years, and once I moved, stress and other things made me want to eat it again. I was my healthiest when I was a vegetarian, so that for sure is my biggest or greatest regret. __34.__How would you like to die? You hear people say, "I wanna die peacefully, like in my sleep!" The way I wanna die, is by doing something good. I wanna be remembered as the girl who saved someone, or made someone's life better. I don't wanna die for nothing __35.__What is your motto? "Do with a purpose." It can be any action at all. Write with a purpose, or walk with a purpose. The story behind this motto is for another time. Thank you for taking the time to reach the end of this post. I hope you enjoyed reading more about me! |
Jaime M.I'd like to think I'm outgoing, but I know for a fact that I'm nice! Enjoy the website! ArchivesCategories |