The sun is shining into the restaurant; the air is cool this morning. I scan the sidewalks in hopes to find entertainment watching the tourists as they walk by. It is eight in the morning, so the streets are quiet. Down behind the hill I can see the ocean, the horizon is clear. I stand at the hostess station, in my black dress pants and jacket. The restaurant is empty, each table set with a jelly rack and filled with maple syrup sitting on a saucer, fresh cut flowers, (from the owner’s garden) and two sets of silverware placed on white napkins. Elevator type music plays quietly from the speakers in the ceiling.
“Good morning!” I announce to a couple as they walk in from the cobblestone courtyard.
“Two for breakfast?” I inquire.
“Actually we would like some information about your bus tour.”
“Oh, okay, we leave at ten a.m. and two p.m. everyday. It’s a 2.5 hr. tour that takes you up the loop road, it’s like 27miles. You’ll go to the top of Cadillac Mountain, seiur de mont spring, thunder hole, sand beach, otter cliff, and the Jordon pond house. There will be three fifteen minute stops.”
“Oh, okay, how much?”
“Twenty-dollars per person.”
“Do you have a senior discount?” The woman inquires.
“No I do not, but I have a ten percent triple A discount.”
“Oh, we have triple A.” The man exclaims, as he reaches in his back pocket.
“Would you like to make a reservation?” I ask.
“Yes, two for the two p.m.” The man replies. I retrieve the reservation book from the windowsill, and grab a pen.
“Your last name?”
“Uh, Taylor.” His wife announces.
I add their name to the list
“I just need a visa or master card to reserve your seats.”
“Can we pay you now?” He opens his wallet.
“You certainly can. I can take visa, master card, traveler’s checks or cash.” I respond.
He passes me a visa, and shows me his triple A card.
“Your total will be thirty six dollars with the triple A discount”, I confirm before swiping the card through the machine.
Mr. Taylor nods with the okay.
I swipe the plastic through the machine, enter the amount, and wait for the slips to print. Then place the slips of paper on the counter in front of me.
“I just need a signature at the bottom.” As I pass him a pen.
Another couple enters the restaurant. “Excuse me, for just a moment.” I address to Mr. and Mrs. Taylor.
I make eye contact with the new arrival. “Two for breakfast?” I repeat for only the second time so far this morning.
“Yes.” The young woman replies.
I turn and obtain two breakfast menus, then walk towards the sun filled windows, “Right this way.” The hungry young couple follows me. I place the menus on the table.
“Thank you!” They reply. They are one-step closer to their fix of morning coffee.
“You’re welcome. Enjoy.” I say politely.
I return to the hostess station and Mr. Taylor passes me the slips.
“The bottom copy is yours.” I say, and pass the copy back to him.
I pull two tickets from the reservation pile. “Here are your tickets. The bus will pick you up right across the street.” I gesture with my index finger out the front window. (People always look when you point.)
“Well, thank you very much” They each say as they walk out.
“You’re welcome, have fun!” I say with a smile.
Thursday, September 23, 2004
Wednesday, September 22, 2004
Theme Two: unpacking
Unpacking the Journal.
Well the story of writing the journal is filled with stress, let us not go there.
What do I wish had happened? I wish that when I started this course that my computer had been ready with out any problems. This is week three and I am still working on week two as well as week three. I wish that time would slow down, let me catch a breath. Just give me one really long day. I enjoy writing, though I feel I am being rushed and forced to write superficially, so that I can complete each assignment. Writing is an emotional process as well as cognitive. Creativity comes through emotions and time filled thoughts. Also because of the nature of this course, I feel that I am holding back. You talk about being naked in public and writing is a test of character, though the topics I wish to discuss are not just my stories to discuss. Though I am aching.
I have been keeping a journal for almost eleven years now. I think that I will delve into the story of how I became a writer.
I have always been a brainstorm kind of girl. I always have so many ideas and thoughts, and phrases that I want to use. I must break down the chaos and construct complete sentences. I have always been good at run on sentences, and have a chronic tendency to use semi colons, to make up for the run ons. I write the way the thought comes to me, though at least I am aware and try to correct it. Like I said, I have been keeping a journal for about eleven years, but there are great gaps between. There were times that I just grew tired of documenting my days, and repeating the dramatic, chaotic events again. My Journal was my closest friend; I could speak the truth, and figure out problems. There was no one to interrupt me, or criticize my opinion. I have always written from the emotional side.
When I was twelve, I was introduced to poetry on a new level. Mrs. Kellet's Language Arts. I adopted my first pen name that year, Scott Amber, inspired by S.E. Hinton. For seventh and most of eight grade, I attended a catholic school. Well, well! I was rebellious, independent, opinionated, and had no idea what I was getting into. Academically catholic school was good for me. Students in my class, including myself entered a poetry contest, and two, including myself, were accepted for publication. Anthology of young American, Forth edition.(page 127.) In eighth grade, we were asked to write a paper for All Catholic Schools Week. I being the opinionated non-conformist, wrote about how great our school was, with one hundred percent sarcasm. After a few parent/student/teacher conferences and a stack of pink slips (for stupid, trivial things) I was no longer a student at the school. Returning to public school just in time, as a freshmen I meet the most interesting and inspiring teacher, Mrs. Philbrook. She moved me, and taught me how to move my audience. She helped me find my voice and to use my eyes to write. I had my first creative witting class with her. I was also taught by, Sandford Phippen. I wrote some real off the wall, beyond left field papers for his class; but He loved them, though he was critical about my grammar. I still need to proof read aloud, several times. After graduating, I moved north and went to Northern Maine Community College. I took English Composition. I found myself to be in a class with a very closed minded, conservative instructor. She censored our topic range and made me re-write me papers. When I wrote what I though she wanted to hear, she loved it. Toward the end I was able to censor, as well as be open.
Now here I am. I have been trying to take creative writing for three semesters now. I am a bit discouraged that so far it has not been enjoyable, due to the over whelming stress of being behind. Not having a writing program that grammar checks, and hoping that the computer will stay in functioning mode.
Well I guess that was my unpacking of my journal. I don’t think that this is what you wanted. I don’t know where I went, when I wrote it.
Well the story of writing the journal is filled with stress, let us not go there.
What do I wish had happened? I wish that when I started this course that my computer had been ready with out any problems. This is week three and I am still working on week two as well as week three. I wish that time would slow down, let me catch a breath. Just give me one really long day. I enjoy writing, though I feel I am being rushed and forced to write superficially, so that I can complete each assignment. Writing is an emotional process as well as cognitive. Creativity comes through emotions and time filled thoughts. Also because of the nature of this course, I feel that I am holding back. You talk about being naked in public and writing is a test of character, though the topics I wish to discuss are not just my stories to discuss. Though I am aching.
I have been keeping a journal for almost eleven years now. I think that I will delve into the story of how I became a writer.
I have always been a brainstorm kind of girl. I always have so many ideas and thoughts, and phrases that I want to use. I must break down the chaos and construct complete sentences. I have always been good at run on sentences, and have a chronic tendency to use semi colons, to make up for the run ons. I write the way the thought comes to me, though at least I am aware and try to correct it. Like I said, I have been keeping a journal for about eleven years, but there are great gaps between. There were times that I just grew tired of documenting my days, and repeating the dramatic, chaotic events again. My Journal was my closest friend; I could speak the truth, and figure out problems. There was no one to interrupt me, or criticize my opinion. I have always written from the emotional side.
When I was twelve, I was introduced to poetry on a new level. Mrs. Kellet's Language Arts. I adopted my first pen name that year, Scott Amber, inspired by S.E. Hinton. For seventh and most of eight grade, I attended a catholic school. Well, well! I was rebellious, independent, opinionated, and had no idea what I was getting into. Academically catholic school was good for me. Students in my class, including myself entered a poetry contest, and two, including myself, were accepted for publication. Anthology of young American, Forth edition.(page 127.) In eighth grade, we were asked to write a paper for All Catholic Schools Week. I being the opinionated non-conformist, wrote about how great our school was, with one hundred percent sarcasm. After a few parent/student/teacher conferences and a stack of pink slips (for stupid, trivial things) I was no longer a student at the school. Returning to public school just in time, as a freshmen I meet the most interesting and inspiring teacher, Mrs. Philbrook. She moved me, and taught me how to move my audience. She helped me find my voice and to use my eyes to write. I had my first creative witting class with her. I was also taught by, Sandford Phippen. I wrote some real off the wall, beyond left field papers for his class; but He loved them, though he was critical about my grammar. I still need to proof read aloud, several times. After graduating, I moved north and went to Northern Maine Community College. I took English Composition. I found myself to be in a class with a very closed minded, conservative instructor. She censored our topic range and made me re-write me papers. When I wrote what I though she wanted to hear, she loved it. Toward the end I was able to censor, as well as be open.
Now here I am. I have been trying to take creative writing for three semesters now. I am a bit discouraged that so far it has not been enjoyable, due to the over whelming stress of being behind. Not having a writing program that grammar checks, and hoping that the computer will stay in functioning mode.
Well I guess that was my unpacking of my journal. I don’t think that this is what you wanted. I don’t know where I went, when I wrote it.
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
Theme One: Journal
Week one: Journal Entries 1-5
Journal Entry 1
I am behind in this class. I am frustrated with the class. My computer, after a week and a half of problems and solutions, is now running, and on the internet. An exciting tool for me, though for not having access to the internet (other than in public places) in several years, I am behind in technology. I feel behind in everything.
The summer is gone and I barely spent any time outside enjoying it. My apartment is so far from organized. I was on top of it, until I began leaving laundry and paperwork where I was finished with it (as well as my boyfriend). My hamper is heaping and overflowed, the bottles and jugs are heaping, I am behind on artwork and other projects. I spend my time now, working three jobs, going to school, chain smoking cigarettes and sleeping. I have fallen into this poor habit of staying up until early hours of the morning and then, "Sleeping the whole day away," in the words of my mother. My biological clock creates my schedule, and I follow it religiously. That is why I work in the evenings, stay up late and forfeit the whole day to my subconscious. Well that is all for now.
Journal Entry 2
I am tired of working, and growing bored with it. Waiting tables is boring, when there isn't a steady flow of customers to attend to, and hosting, that shit is for the birds. Making money takes up so much time. I feel like I am haven't done any painting this whole summer. I have started two oil paintings but neither is finished.
Fall is on its way, the leaves are changing, and it is the beginning of September. The cycles continue and the transitions begin. Our daylight is rapidly decreasing by seven to eight minutes each sunset.
I am curious to experience the fall on the island. I really enjoy the ocean; I wish that the water was warmer. The ocean should keep the island warmer and we will not get as much snow, but I bet it is wonderful down here. Well for now, let us deal with the fall. I hope to find the time to drive around and take pictures so I can photograph the changes. The fall also means the end of the work season and we need to search for winter jobs. The hunt begins again. On that note, I need to go to bed. It is 4:24am.
Journal Entry 3
This year will be the first presidential election that I am old enough to vote in. I hope that more people register to vote, and go to take their one vote opportunity. I remember hearing something like only 50% of the U.S. actually votes. I have been reading some of the paper about Bush and Kerry’s campaign. I sure in hell am not voting for "W". Bush is driving this country into the ground. Everybody’s broke, innocent people are dying. Bush and the Bush administration are trying to create one world government; they are establishing democracy in other countries. Well enough about that, next subject.
I drove around doing errands today with the radio blaring, and singing along to Randy Travis. I am tired of one-way streets and random, seemingly unnecessary stop signs, and pedestrians (use the damn crosswalk!) For the whole summer, 90% of the time I rode my bike. However, then something began to squeak and I was embarrassed to ride through town. In addition, I have grown tired, and a bit lazy, therefore instead of putting WD40 on my bearings, I would rather cruise around in my Chevy, though at this time I am going to cruise on into the abyss, and dream for several hours. Good night. 3:06am.
Journal Entry 4
Today my boyfriend Wes and I went on a picnic. I just got this wicker basket with intentions on going on a picnic. It was warm today, with a September (northeastern breeze), cleaner air than the southeastern winds that bring poor air to us. N-E-ways, we went over to the park and sat down on a blanket on the edge of a baseball diamond. Soon after we finished with lunch, we shimmied down to the sea kayak tours; and went on a sunset kayaking adventure. We kayaked about three miles around some islands. Boy are we going to be sore tomorrow.
We saw a juvenile bald eagle. I really didn't do much to talk about.
Wes's birthday is coming up; I have some small surprises, but nothing big. I am making both, so there is more stress there. Today is Tuesday, his birthday is Thursday. That is a big problem living with him now, I can't work on things when I would like. I have told him that I am kicking him out of the house this week. Tough shit honey, that's how it goes. We really have a healthy relationship. We both have things to work on, but we work well together. We communicate! Well dinner is ready, my belly is empty.
Journal Entry 5
I took my neighbors dog for a ride in the car, we went to the dump and dropped off the trash, then ran more errands in town. I can't wait to be caught up on everything; I have been productive this week. Yesterday I took for myself, and for Wes. It was needed. I work six days a week. This week I got two days off. After he leaves for work, I am going to make his ice cream cake. This will be my first attempt, so I anticipate that it will take some time, but it isn't that difficult. I really like being organized, especially waking up in the morning to a clean house. It seems like we clean, well it seems like I clean everyday.
I am tired of smoking; I feel that a change is in need. I should transform with the seasons, take new steps towards my health. I don't eat breakfast. When we cook dinner, we eat well. I don't have a balanced diet. I stay up too late, eat junk directly before bed, and top it of with a cigarette. Instead of trying to prohibit cigarettes, the government allows it. This is a drug, one that the whole world can purchase legally, (permitting age limit). By providing consumers with cigarettes, tobacco companies make money off the consumer, and passing the consumer down the line. Hospitals make money off smokers. Homeowner insurance is higher to those who smoke (I think, or it is at least a question on the application. All the people that die from smoking provide money to funeral homes, and cemeteries. Cigarettes are partly for economic purposes, but also for population control. Consumers, including myself go to the store and purchase cancer sticks. If I had never started smoking, I would have had so much more money to do things that I wanted and want to do. If I had kept track of the money I have spent on cigarettes this summer I would probably been able to pay some bills ahead of time. The end of the work season is not far from now; so trying to play catch up and get ahead at the same time makes it a little more difficult. I need to call herbal research and take supplements then I my lungs can clean themselves, my nails won't grow with a yellow tint. My whitening toothpaste would actually work. I just need to discipline myself. I don't drink, sometimes I'll have a beer, I don't do drugs, and I have control over these decisions. All I need to do is stop buying them, and don't bum any off of anyone. Well the phone is ringing, going to go to talk to my mom. Later.
Journal Entry 1
I am behind in this class. I am frustrated with the class. My computer, after a week and a half of problems and solutions, is now running, and on the internet. An exciting tool for me, though for not having access to the internet (other than in public places) in several years, I am behind in technology. I feel behind in everything.
The summer is gone and I barely spent any time outside enjoying it. My apartment is so far from organized. I was on top of it, until I began leaving laundry and paperwork where I was finished with it (as well as my boyfriend). My hamper is heaping and overflowed, the bottles and jugs are heaping, I am behind on artwork and other projects. I spend my time now, working three jobs, going to school, chain smoking cigarettes and sleeping. I have fallen into this poor habit of staying up until early hours of the morning and then, "Sleeping the whole day away," in the words of my mother. My biological clock creates my schedule, and I follow it religiously. That is why I work in the evenings, stay up late and forfeit the whole day to my subconscious. Well that is all for now.
Journal Entry 2
I am tired of working, and growing bored with it. Waiting tables is boring, when there isn't a steady flow of customers to attend to, and hosting, that shit is for the birds. Making money takes up so much time. I feel like I am haven't done any painting this whole summer. I have started two oil paintings but neither is finished.
Fall is on its way, the leaves are changing, and it is the beginning of September. The cycles continue and the transitions begin. Our daylight is rapidly decreasing by seven to eight minutes each sunset.
I am curious to experience the fall on the island. I really enjoy the ocean; I wish that the water was warmer. The ocean should keep the island warmer and we will not get as much snow, but I bet it is wonderful down here. Well for now, let us deal with the fall. I hope to find the time to drive around and take pictures so I can photograph the changes. The fall also means the end of the work season and we need to search for winter jobs. The hunt begins again. On that note, I need to go to bed. It is 4:24am.
Journal Entry 3
This year will be the first presidential election that I am old enough to vote in. I hope that more people register to vote, and go to take their one vote opportunity. I remember hearing something like only 50% of the U.S. actually votes. I have been reading some of the paper about Bush and Kerry’s campaign. I sure in hell am not voting for "W". Bush is driving this country into the ground. Everybody’s broke, innocent people are dying. Bush and the Bush administration are trying to create one world government; they are establishing democracy in other countries. Well enough about that, next subject.
I drove around doing errands today with the radio blaring, and singing along to Randy Travis. I am tired of one-way streets and random, seemingly unnecessary stop signs, and pedestrians (use the damn crosswalk!) For the whole summer, 90% of the time I rode my bike. However, then something began to squeak and I was embarrassed to ride through town. In addition, I have grown tired, and a bit lazy, therefore instead of putting WD40 on my bearings, I would rather cruise around in my Chevy, though at this time I am going to cruise on into the abyss, and dream for several hours. Good night. 3:06am.
Journal Entry 4
Today my boyfriend Wes and I went on a picnic. I just got this wicker basket with intentions on going on a picnic. It was warm today, with a September (northeastern breeze), cleaner air than the southeastern winds that bring poor air to us. N-E-ways, we went over to the park and sat down on a blanket on the edge of a baseball diamond. Soon after we finished with lunch, we shimmied down to the sea kayak tours; and went on a sunset kayaking adventure. We kayaked about three miles around some islands. Boy are we going to be sore tomorrow.
We saw a juvenile bald eagle. I really didn't do much to talk about.
Wes's birthday is coming up; I have some small surprises, but nothing big. I am making both, so there is more stress there. Today is Tuesday, his birthday is Thursday. That is a big problem living with him now, I can't work on things when I would like. I have told him that I am kicking him out of the house this week. Tough shit honey, that's how it goes. We really have a healthy relationship. We both have things to work on, but we work well together. We communicate! Well dinner is ready, my belly is empty.
Journal Entry 5
I took my neighbors dog for a ride in the car, we went to the dump and dropped off the trash, then ran more errands in town. I can't wait to be caught up on everything; I have been productive this week. Yesterday I took for myself, and for Wes. It was needed. I work six days a week. This week I got two days off. After he leaves for work, I am going to make his ice cream cake. This will be my first attempt, so I anticipate that it will take some time, but it isn't that difficult. I really like being organized, especially waking up in the morning to a clean house. It seems like we clean, well it seems like I clean everyday.
I am tired of smoking; I feel that a change is in need. I should transform with the seasons, take new steps towards my health. I don't eat breakfast. When we cook dinner, we eat well. I don't have a balanced diet. I stay up too late, eat junk directly before bed, and top it of with a cigarette. Instead of trying to prohibit cigarettes, the government allows it. This is a drug, one that the whole world can purchase legally, (permitting age limit). By providing consumers with cigarettes, tobacco companies make money off the consumer, and passing the consumer down the line. Hospitals make money off smokers. Homeowner insurance is higher to those who smoke (I think, or it is at least a question on the application. All the people that die from smoking provide money to funeral homes, and cemeteries. Cigarettes are partly for economic purposes, but also for population control. Consumers, including myself go to the store and purchase cancer sticks. If I had never started smoking, I would have had so much more money to do things that I wanted and want to do. If I had kept track of the money I have spent on cigarettes this summer I would probably been able to pay some bills ahead of time. The end of the work season is not far from now; so trying to play catch up and get ahead at the same time makes it a little more difficult. I need to call herbal research and take supplements then I my lungs can clean themselves, my nails won't grow with a yellow tint. My whitening toothpaste would actually work. I just need to discipline myself. I don't drink, sometimes I'll have a beer, I don't do drugs, and I have control over these decisions. All I need to do is stop buying them, and don't bum any off of anyone. Well the phone is ringing, going to go to talk to my mom. Later.
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