Response to The Night Trucks

Kent Meyers' "The Night Trucks" was personally one of my favorite essays so far. I love the ethereal feel in the description of the shadows, and for whatever reason I'm always captivated by essays that take place at night. I really enjoyed the way Meyers described the evolution of thought someone will go through as they do the same task over and over for many years, transcending from novice to expert, and how to that person it is surprising how good they have actually become at that task. I'm not entirely sure what happens at the end of the piece, however, and while I'm mostly sure that his father had died and the cattle business was being given up, I wanted more information on the why.

Hymnals

The sky outside the windows is dark ink blotted on the white page walls surrounding all of us, but it hardly feels dark inside. Bodies are shuffled into the large room, squished together in the long oak benches, and if I want to I can reach out to either side and brush fingers along familiar wrists. Real pages, pages of songs, riffle to the correct place, and there’s a collective sigh of appreciation as the music starts. The first voice is met with dozens of others, and the hymn builds up inside my chest like a balloon. If I focus, I think I hear the angel choir joining in. 

The Horrific Nature of Fleeting Curiosity and Street Haunting

After reading Braden's essay, I received a similar feeling from it that I did from reading Woolf's "Street Haunting." In the description of both scenes, I was overcome with a sort of quiet, almost eerie feeling as the different places were unveiled and the actions unfolded. Just as Woolf took care to make specific descriptions of the scenes around her, Braden also thoroughly described the sounds, smells, and sights of his house. There was, "cool air that came in through the typically opened windows," and the outside section of tubing that was described as "rattling." Braden's essay also seemed to remind me of Woolf's "Street Haunting" in the way that it focused on darkness, which was a large part of Woolf's essay, because her entire experience takes place in the nighttime of London. Braden's also is in the evening, and his scene was emphasized as extra dark because of the nature of the game he talks the reader through.

In Response to Winter

What struck me most about the essay "Winter" by Larry Woiwode is the sense of urgency and danger I got while reading it. I was wondering by the last page how Larry was going to survive the horrible weather, even though I was well aware that it was a nonfiction essay that had been written in the future, so clearly he was fine in the end. I believe it is the pacing and vocabulary that he uses that causes that panicked emotion even in the face of logic. I aspire to be able to write in that way; to make the reader feel fear even when they know deep down things will be all right, and to cause emotions almost on a subconscious level.

Just Past Cloud Nine

(The purpose of this piece is to try and be a lot more descriptive in my writing, because these essays were very descriptive, and all of your guys' essays also rock at it!)

The room is always a splash of bright colors and an organized mess. For the first couple of times I enter through the doorway, the arrangement of the beds and desks are different each time. I memorize the new set-ups with ease; the wall of quotes, pictures, posters, calendars, all are unchanging, and where I fall there will always be something soft to catch me, so the specific arrangement matters little.

Jasmine's bed always has too many pillows, the color red washing over her belongings like she spilled Kool-Aid one day and never washed it out, and Spider-man is always visible in the carnage. Natasha's spaces are organized yet tasteful, with post-it notes and a tucked in green comforter on the bed, and every thing she owns screams "teacher." Megan's bed feels the softest, like a cloud wrapping me in a hug, and her purple cover is never wrinkle free, and there's a crevice by the wall that serves the purpose of swallowing our phones, but I soon claim her area as my own.

I start to fall into a pattern in the room before I realize it. My shoes are instantly kicked off by the closets, and my coat joins Jasmine's on the back of her wooden decorated plastic chair. All of my belongings become covered in the hair that hides within the rug, and I'm constantly plucking long strands from my clothes in a never-ending battle that I'm sure to lose (the hair always wins). I can smell something in the room, sometimes, similar to the flowery scent that is constantly on my tail. I've made a mark, a claim, I've taken possession of the smallest part of that corner of Megan's bed, and nobody seems to mind.

They text me to join them late in the evening. We curl together, six of us, a jumble of legs covered in ripped jeans and creased t-shirts and sprawling arms, all on that cloud, and our soft words dissolve into the night air. The bed welcomes us home with a comforting hug.

Undercurrent and Two Hot Weeks in August

The essay Undercurrent by Katrina Roberts and Ryan's Two Hot Weeks in August appear to me to be similar essays in their style, and for that reason I believe they could go together well. Roberts and Ryan both utilize descriptions of surroundings: Roberts mentions specifically of the, "pale pinkish cloud beneath orange" (p 107) she sees in the sky, while Ryan writes of, "The sprinkler on the baseball diamond chirp(ing)." These descriptions in both of these essays also seem to coincide with underlying emotions and feelings throughout the scenes. While Roberts has an undercurrent of some unknown feeling causing uneasiness, Ryan has an underlying feeling in his essay of team unity, purpose, and satisfaction with himself.

Works and I've Got Dreams to Remember

The essay Work by Kim Barnes and the essays I've Got Dreams to Remember by Taylor Clark could go together well, I believe. In the first section of Work, Barnes skims over the individual jobs of both her mother and father. The scenes that are described seem to me to radiate warmth and a familiar, homey feeling. In Taylor's essay, similarly, the work of her mother and father is briefly described. Her essay focuses most definitely around a homey atmosphere, and the haze of the tobacco products seems to give off a warmth just like the warmth in Barnes' essay. Together, these essays seem to draw the reader into a scene that becomes warm and familiar, creating a link between the reader and author quickly.

The Enemy, Emotion

I have learned that I can be easily annoyed by many things. When I can hear people talking over the sound of music pulsing through my headphones, I become irrationally angry. No matter how loud I turn the music up after that first intrusion, I will always imagine I can hear all the outsiders instead. I dislike the sound of chewing when somebody takes too large of a mouthful at dinner. Constant sniffling causes my fingernails to cut crescent shapes into my palms; why can't you grab a tissue? Don't you know sniffing will only keep you congested, and then you will have more problems? Sometimes the constant rubbing of my fingers against one another burrows deep inside me a feeling of unrest and disgust, until I must separate them as far apart as I can while trying to find something else to occupy my mind.

Mostly, my blood begins to pump as a piece of writing pulls forth from me things I don't want to give up. How dare I become attached to something so unreal, so impossible, so lovely. It is not fair that someone is able to make me feel things I do not want to, make me thinks things I should not, make me want things that shall never be. Fictional characters, fake worlds, and alternate realities: all dangerous, all unforgiving.

I suppose I just dislike emotion.