Feedback on literacy narrative

how did I find out that writing was my thing
   context
"I don't give a shit"???
   has being passive worked for me?
   I need to be vulnerable in the piece
talk more about creative nonfiction
   am I happy with my choice of IC?
brandt - use a voice
why do I want to tell stories?
   do others need them?
   do I need them to get out?

Literacy Narrative Draft (I Mean Rant)

I guess I got into writing because no one had written the specific stories I had wanted to read.  That’s probably why I’m still here.  It seems like I’ve got stories inside of me that I just really want to experience, and I have no other alternative than to write them myself. 

            What I’m really talking about here is fiction writing—apparently that’s what’s most near and dear to me.  It seems more genuine in a way, less presumptuous than creative non-fiction (which I do like if I’m feeling chatty), more coherent than poetry, and less boring than regular non-fiction.  When I think of “writing” I think of storytelling.

            I probably would be an actor if I had the self-confidence.  I would probably direct movies or TV if I had the social skills to coordinate that many people without my head exploding, or the desire to learn nit-picky things about cameras.  I’d be a painter, if I had the patience to learn advanced techniques or the money to spend on supplies.  Writing is the easiest tool I have to get my stories out there.  Not necessarily for other people (recognition is nice), but probably just for myself.

            I don’t adore language, I’ve never opened a dictionary of my own volition before, the musicality of poetry doesn’t send me into thralls of literary ecstasy.  I missed that memo, I just don’t get it.

            Nobody's ever told me that I can't write or that I shouldn't write.  That's probably why I'm still here.  My parents never told me that I'd never be able to support myself with a B.A. in Writing, they just encourage, heavily hint, and otherwise pester me to look into journalism and technical writing.  They know that I'm not cut out for that starving artist shtick.

            We have the money to send me off to school to learn a skill that doesn’t provide an instant financial payoff (or perhaps any payoff).  I was expected to go to college, so I was groomed in the public school system so that I could become a good candidate for acceptance.  There was a prestige level—if I had really tried, or tried at all—a fancy name on my diploma would’ve been nice.  It’s hard to see yourself as attending a prestigious school when you share the TCAT with kids from Cornell.  Maybe IC is nicer than I think it is.  I’m not sure. 

            Anyway, I’ve had a supportive family, and that’s a big deal.  It’s important not to get a raison d’etre stomped out of you when you’re growing up.

            My high school was okay.  They did their jobs in getting me tons of college credit before I even graduated, I took AP courses and tests, got an Advanced Designation Regents degree, and blah, blah, blah.  It’s the same old college rat-race.

            I had room for electives, sort of—at the expense of my only study hall.  I took Orchestra and Art, all four years.  I continued French because it would look good to colleges.  I had always wanted to take the half-semester Creative Writing course that our high school offered.  The kids in that class were the ones who decided what got in to the high school Lit. Mag. something I really wanted.  There was never any room in my schedule for it. 

            But I submitted some poems.  A set of three versions of the same poem, a triptych.  I mixed visual art and poetry and also old-timey vampires.  I thought it was a genius idea.  I never got published.  Looking back, I think that they didn’t got what I was trying to do.  Maybe they didn’t like vampires that weren’t love-struck and sparkly.  They did however, like angsty poetry about the problems of being a teenager that hinges on an extended metaphor about grocery shopping.  I thought it was a boring, whiney poem.

            I’m not bitter.

            Anyways, so that was my only experience with creative writing in high school and it was thoroughly disappointing. 

            So I came to IC.  I’m here because it’s fairly local, and it has a Writing Department.  I didn’t even know that those existed until I found the one here.  At the other colleges I could’ve gone to, Creative Writing was a sad subset of the English major, or it didn’t exist.  So, in the end, my college choice, the big agonizing choice was a no-brainer. 

            Now I’m here, and now I have the best example of how undernourished my writing knowledge actually was.  When I got into Intro to the Essay (which I only took because it’s required) I learned about the existence of the Creative Non-fiction genre. 

            Wait, what?  Non-fiction isn’t just boring book-documentaries?  There is a world outside of textbooks?  Nobody had told me that essays weren’t anything different than the crappy things we wrote in English class, or in frantic, formulaic brain-dumps on Important Tests.

            Totally blew my mind.  Completely changed my idea of what writing is, and can be. 

           

            I feel like ending on a happy note.  Look forward to seeing y’all in class!

Questions for review:

-Should Brandt be explicitly in here?

-I’m not too ramble-y am I?

-Where do you want more?

My literacy narrative is coming! I promise

just wanted to do more work on it after hearing class discussions this week.

UPDATE: got called into work, and then lost half of my piece because I was typing it out on blogger which saves every few minutes and I somehow hit the wrong key.
I'm so happy

UPDATE 2.0:
I did it. Now I'm actually happy.
 this is me #nofilter
I'm so majestic.

Kayleigh's Literacy Map(ish)

Map of the Event of Learning What an Essay Is

I like long titles

They're funny

What were the economic/political conflicts or contexts? 

I am a middle-class American, white, living in a fairly wealthy area of Upstate New York.  I attend a private university, and am able to pursue the education that I want.  Clearly there's a money thing going on here.  Not everyone can afford to be here.  Not everyone can afford to have the leisure time to cultivate and pursue a love of reading and writing like I have.  

Who were their sponsors? 

My sponsors are: 

-my family, paying for my tuition and all those ridiculous expenses

-the program I'm enrolled in at IC (Writing program)

-my professor for that class, Catherine Taylor

-me, for being involved in class (doing my homework so that I actually learned things)

What literacies were valued? 

Craft was important, that is, grammar and having understandable sentences.  

Exciting things: 

-Creativity, expression, lyrical writing, storytelling. 

 

How was it learned? 

In class................................duh................
  

We read examples of essays, sometimes based on their structure (braided, segmented, etc), or just essays that were good.  Sometimes they were totally out there and made sense only in a strange, aesthetic sort of way.  An Anne Carson essay comes to mind - something about an eclipse.

What resources were available? 
My professor, the  other students in the class, our textbook The Next American Essay (I think?), the Writing Center, our Sakai site.

Who provided these resources? 

These were Ithaca College resources that only were available to me because I (my family) paid a large amount of money to be here.

How difficult was it to access these resources?

Not very hard at all.  Well, getting enough money to pay the tuition is hard, but once you've paid you're in.  They'll tell you about the writing center every class, professors are required to have office hours, and the idea is that everyone is going to help you out because we're one happy family.  Or an exclusive club.

Kayleigh Learns What an Essay Is (important literacy experience)

Throughout high school and before that, essays were evil.  They were stifling and formulaic and had to be pounded out in 45 minute blocks of time for AP tests.  No one ever had any fun writing an essay.
When I came to college it wasn't any different.  There they were, now called "papers", which I think is a better name.
I took Intro to the Essay because it was mandatory, I knew I wasn't going to like it because it was just going to be a continuation of the same old stuff.
We started off by reading Seneca and Montaigne, and I started to realize that I was wrong.  These were not boring, these things had their own voices.  I learned the French verb essayer, which means "to try".  So, an essay is a piece of writing in which one tries something.  To explain this or that, to convince people, to explore one's own thoughts.
That was astronomically more interesting.

Chimpanzees Have Religion (?)

How do we define religion so that it can be applied to non-humans?  Hint: click the link and read the excruciatingly long article that I had to read.
Ha!
Well, actually, all you need to know are the problems with current definitions of religion, and then read the conclusion bit that gives you the new "prototypical trans-species definition".

Then, read this one, and take some time to reconsider pretty much your entire life.  Not really, just your worldview.
                                                     

Why Did I Drink Coffee at 10pm?

That was not my smartest decision, although I did only drink half of it.  The rest is sitting in my fridge.

I was really into my last blog (which I lost due to password nonsense), and I'm attempting to rekindle the same sort of excitement two years later.

How is it possible that I'm a junior in college?  It's like the world expects me to go be an adult.
Umm, no.

That never fails to make me smile.  If I could scuttle away from responsibility like that you can bet I would.  Me and every other person ever.

I'm going to sleep now.

In full makeup

Just kidding, I'm actually going to go do this:

Goodnight!