Just a girl writing in the blogging ring
To all the Zombioholics out there: York College will be taken over for one evening and you are wanted as fresh meat! Check it out here for the Zombie Fest!
http://spartanycpnewspaper.wordpress.com/2013/03/28/the-zombies-are-coming/
A fellow intern had a friend draw the zombie attack above. Great original art at York College of PA.
~P.
Click to see slideshow of Leiter’s photos from the 1950’s ~P.
My friend’s doxies are adorable. They have so much energy it was hard to catch them on camera. Brandy and Voggie refused to be photographed together. LOL ~P.
Brandy melts hearts with those eyes.
Hide and Seek with Brandy
Any closer and dog kisses are guaranteed.
Attempted lens licking
Voggie takes down the monkey while remaining in control of his ball
He refused to look me in the eyes…
Look into my eyes…so I can steal your sandwich.
I found this amusing
I waited in my car after texting “here” to announce my presence. John came out on the porch and motioned for me to come to the house. That is a bad sign as he technically has me court ordered to not even step onto our land. I entered my house. John was standing at the island and his girlfriend, Heather, was seated across from him. John had a document in his hand for me to sign. He insists on this paper signing when Tesla is with me at any time other than my weekends. “What are you going to do about this dog situation?” he asked. I was confused, not sure what he was referring to. He continued, “I heard about Ying biting Dale. I learned today he bit Blaine.” John was referring to my dog Ying biting my boyfriend and a few years ago, biting my nephew. “Ying would never bite Tesla. It’s not even a possibility.” I replied. I quickly signed my name to his over-night agreement and tore off my copy. Tesla and I were anxious to exit.
“I wanted to talk to you a minute about Disney.” Heather said to me. I couldn’t believe she was even bringing Disney up again. After the rude texts she sent to me about being John’s sugar mama and she’s not using her divorce money to pay the mortgage but to take them all to Disney World. Apparently John can’t go to Disney this time around. He’s been there twice, once with his first wife and once with his ex-girlfriend Kelly. So Heather has it in her head she should take Tesla to Disney. I let Heather give her spiel while I kept one eye on Tesla to see her facial reactions. Tesla didn’t seem interested in what Heather was saying which seemed strange to me. I would have thought she would be excited, agreeing she wanted to take this trip, maybe even begging me to say yes. Heather handed me an envelope with the dates she intends to fly to Florida and where they will stay. As if this would suddenly make a difference, she volunteered, “Tesla can call you every day on my phone while we are away.” I had to laugh. “Come on Tess,” as I reached for her hand to leave. I couldn’t listen to anymore of this woman’s babble. After the hatefulness Heather has displayed in situations that had nothing to do with her and the jealously she holds over a man who refuses to divorce me, why would I let her take my child anywhere?
Tesla and I finally got her signed out and we both sighed in relief in the car. I asked her what is up with this whole Disney trip and she said, “Heather says I have to go. She said it will be fun. She talks about it all the time.” I digested these three sentences and thought about Tesla’s lack of input during the Heather spiel. “You don’t want to go to Disney?” I asked, as things began to add up in my head. “Heather will be mad.” She answered, twisting her lips into a frown. Now I had a clear picture and that clarity was going to make this a touchy situation. “Heather is an adult and she will get over being disappointed that you don’t go. I’m surprised you don’t want to go.” Tesla, speaking maturely looked me in the eyes and said, “It’s far away and too long. I’ve been there.” Her argument made sense and I was at a loss for words. Only my child can let me speechless. She didn’t want to discuss it further so I let the subject drop for the time being.
Our over-night stay was coming to a close. Her father called because he was running late coming back from somewhere. He wanted to know if I was going to be able to drop Tesla off at 2 pm. He had originally said he would pick Tesla up. I failed to notice he had it typed in the weekend agreement that I had to pick up Tesla and drop her off the next day. He also wanted to keep Tesla the following Friday until 8:30 pm and I must pick her up. The whole Disney World chat through me off, under normal circumstances, when I’m not drawn into their lair, I read, sign and leave.
Knowing we didn’t have much time left to our visit, I sat on the couch with Tesla and turned off the television. “Why are you turning my show off?” she asked. “I want to talk to you a little bit before I take you back to your dad.” I answered. “About Disney?” she rolled her eyes. “Yes, about Disney.” I replied. “I just want to be sure I understand what you want to do because I’m going to have to give Heather an answer.” “Can you just tell her I can’t go?” Tesla asked. “I want to go away with you.” This child knows how to tug at my heart strings without even trying. I would love to take her to Disney World. I’ve never even been to Disney. “I can’t take you to Disney honey. Maybe in a few years we can. How about somewhere else? Like Hershey Park?” She smiled and asked if it was far away. I told her no and we could probably visit grandma the same day. “That sounds really good Mom.”
I turned the television back on and began writing my text to Heather. Tesla reminded me she didn’t want to be in trouble for not wanting to go. It concerned me she is that worried about the consequences of not agreeing with what her father and Heather (an adult figure, as Tess refers to her) tell her she must do. It is just ironic that I had decided prior to even talking to Tesla that if she wanted to go, I would let her, even if I wasn’t completely comfortable with the idea. Honestly, I was terrified of the idea of my child traveling that far away with a stranger. In my world, Heather is a stranger. Now I deny the trip at Tesla’s request. I made it clear, without a doubt, that it was her decision.
I wrote my reply to Heather on my cell phone, to her cell phone, even though the last text message I received from her was, “Do not text this number again. I’m done asking.” I’m surprised I don’t have whiplash from these two whipping me around with their assholery.
“I talked to Tesla and she doesn’t want you or her dad to be sad or angry because she doesn’t want to go to FL. I’m sorry but, I try to respect her decisions and based on that she won’t be going. I trust neither of you will make this situation an issue because she make it clear to me and to pass on to you and John not to keep asking about it. I appreciate your desire to make Tesla feel part of your trip but it just wasn’t a good idea.”
Tesla read the text as I was writing it and then I read it aloud to her to make sure she agreed with the message. She did and I sent it. Tesla was satisfied. I didn’t get a response and was relieved. More discussion was unnecessary but I realize, like with everything else, John is bound to have more to bring to my attention. When the results are not his desires, there will be turmoil.
~P.
Daily check- SOL Facebook for messages and respond, promote writing contests on FB page, post quote, picture, essays to FB.
Read finalist stories for February writing contest and submitted top 10 choices.
Commented on bloggers entries.
Researched, made cold calls to high school to gain email addresses of English teachers and student newspaper advisers.
Wrote a standard letter to English department heads concerning SOL and guest speaking.
Emailed letter to approximately 25 teachers in York County School Districts.
Contributed two essays to SOL website.
March
4- 1.0 hr
5- 4.0 hrs (in office work)
6- 1 hr
7- 4.0 hrs (in office work)
8- 1 hr
11- 3.0 hrs (reading contest entries)
12- 1.0 hr (essay submitted)
13- 1.0 hr
14- 1.0 hr
15- 4.0 hrs (in office work)
21 hours total
66.75 – 21.00 =45.75 hours remaining
Goals for next week:
Take posters to YCP to display on campus
Schedule speaking engagements at York County schools
Professor Debes Audio 1 class tries to record a non-profit spot at the studio.
TJ Mueller
Music Memories
In the Crider household there was no shortage of music: live or otherwise. Nearly every weekend and usually at least once a week, there would be a practice session or weekend jam. When the music wasn’t live, my dad would have the radio on, tuned to a public station that had entirely too much static for my liking. At least when my dad played records or cassette tapes the music was clear and I didn’t feel the urge to rip out my hair while yelling “find a different station already!”
The weekend jam sessions were cool. I’m not going to rant and rave about them only because I wasn’t that interested in bluegrass music. That genre of music is what my dad’s life revolves around. My father, Walt started his own music bands as far back as I can remember. The first was The Creekside Ramblers as all the members lived near or beside the Conewago Creek. That was back in the early 80’s so I don’t remember much about that group. Walt was also a founding member of a bluegrass association in Pennsylvania. Once this group grew in size, our entire family became involved as musicians or as audience members.
Some jam sessions were at other people’s homes or at a hall rented for The Seven Mountains Bluegrass Association. There were large numbers of people at these gatherings and we made countless friends, often only seeing them once a month. As we made new friends we would nag our parents to invite them over to the house for dad’s picking sessions. We became very good friends with a family by the last name Horn and another, last name Eng and everyone in the Crider house was excited when the parents started playing music at our home.
My most vivid memories are the families coming to play in the front yard of our home. In the winter they played in the basement with the woodstove warming the corners and creating a perfect jam session area. We were thrilled when musicians arrived and brought their families. It was certain there would be other kids to play tag, hide-n-seek, climb trees and shoot hoops on the weekends. The kids split off into two different groups. The older kids hung out with my brother Joe and me, the youngsters hung out with my little sister Sue and my brother Sam. The younger kids stayed close to the house or played in the basement because we would ditch them as soon as possible. There was a ten year gap between them and Joe and me. The gap was enough for us elder children to find the youngster group annoying.
When we were lucky and the weather was in our favor, Joe and I would take off with our friends on foot into the woods or ride bikes up and down the lane. We would hunt rabbits and ground hogs with or without having a BB gun. We hid in the woods and created our club houses with fallen trees and broken tree branches of leaves, keeping an eye out for snakes. Our friend Tim would help Joe drag cut tree trunks to the new forts to use as seats. As the day passed and the sun would start to set, we would come out of the woods to check in with the adults. After the moon had taken the place of the sun, our fun would turn to the nocturnal life.
The bats were cool as shit. I recall a night the parents were picking their banjos and guitars while the kids, all the kids, threw Frisbees, Whiffle bats and balls and shot Nerf guns into the sky. The bats, using their radar would swoop down at our toys in hopes it were food. We all found this hilarious, laughing at the bats and even falling on the ground to avoid their dives. This eventually caught the attention of our mothers who shut down our bat entertainment. Nearly as cool as the bats were the lightning bugs. All of us would run around catching bugs and giving them to the little kids to put in margarine containers with holes punched in the top.
The jam sessions brought a diverse group of people to the Crider household. We met people outside our race and economic group, people who had religious and political opinions different than what I had learned in my first eighteen years of life. While I memorized countless country, bluegrass and gospel songs growing up, what I learned was, music touches all people and breaks down barriers that may have kept people from associating. Most importantly, I learned bluegrass folk have awesome kids that looked forward to the weekend jam sessions just as much as we did.
Austin Kleon spoke at York College campus about his artistic drive that began in middle school and blossomed when a famous artist, Winston Smith, responded to a letter he wrote as an assignment in class. Kleon wrote his letter using “ransom note” font which looked odd on paper and that may be the reason this letter caught the attention of the artist. Little did Smith know he would be a positive influence in Kleon’s life with his responding letter of encouraging words and bits of advice.
Austin’s letter to Winston Smith
Describing himself as an artist who writes, Kleon combines both images and written content to clarify his ideas to his audience. The combination of both in layman’s terms does bridge the gap for those not familiar with creative nonfiction writing. The English language and terms used to create personal essays can be confusing. Ironically, most people use many writing tools to make their essays more interesting without realizing their sentence is a specific tool. Knowing the advanced writing tools by name is not as important as using the tools effectively. Also, breaking the traditional rules of grammar is not always bad and could lead to an essay that stands out due to the breaking of traditional format and grammar.
Kleon did this thing with newspapers that seemed to break new boundaries in poetry and art, only to learn he had been ripping off what someone else has already done. Kleon lives by what many have said in one way or another, “If you’re going to steal, steal from the best.” His new book is simple in design and is printed in his hand. An audience member asked what font he used in his book and he replied, “My own.” Another quote of his is, “Fake it till you make it.” The question was asked, “How do you know when you’ve made it and can stop faking it?” I don’t recall Kleon’s exact response but the question was insightful. When does one know they have “made it?”
The slideshow presentation was well done. Kleon told his story and the slideshow kept the audience’s attention, a good mix of information, pictures and humor in just the right amount of time. He had ten tips on unlocking creativity from within that really made sense without writer’s jargon thrown in for confusion. The presentation peaked my interest in owning Kleon’s book and before the lecture was over I was prepared to purchase my own. I thought of it as a creative nonfiction writer’s handbook. If a writer begins to struggle with an inspiration to produce, Kleon’s book can get them back on track.
The underlying message Kleon gave to the audience was to not fear the unknown and just be creative. “Winging it” is his style and that is not unusual in the artistic world. His book, “Steal like an Artist” is on the NY Time’s bestseller list. Before his presentation ended all his books were sold out. I lingered, snapping pictures and listening to the conversation during the book signing. I bought the last book Kleon had that night. It was stashed away in his car. I have been carrying the book around in my book bag and absorbing a few pages at a time.
Kleon & Crider
Kleon signs books
Kleon & Bennett
T Lyons meets Kleon
Kleon’s books sell out
girlboxer1970 