Reflective Essay

The drafts helped me put something down on the paper even if I was not fully sure of it. I was able to leave it and come back to revise it and polish it up. New insight attracted me. I never knew I had so many things to write about that could al be interesting to someone else. I have a filmmaker’s craft in writing. The structure of my writings is organized in scenes.  I write in a first person and third person’s perspective. I like to show things from different angles so that’s why I write in that perspective. 

I’m direct and indirect when I write. Sometimes I write things for people to know from the beginning but then sometimes I want them to figure it out as if they are watching a movie. I would want them to figure things out at the end but keep them intrigue enough to read the whole story. The audience I write for are people who like to be in other people’s business. People who watch documentary film are usually the people I want reading my writings. A creative non-fiction piece should be real. It should be the truth.  I make sure that I don’t offend anyone and make sure I’m fare.  The first thing I wrote about was how a photo could bring me back in time to realize something. Although that piece was good, there were some holes. I made my point but I made it too easy for the readers to understand. I realized that I’m the type of writer that connects past times with today.

I sit down, eat some food and listen to conversations about anything. One word may trigger me to write. For example, for my long essay, I had nothing to write about, I went to see my advisor about classes I needed to take. He pulled up my evaluation sheet and on that I seen a music class that I took at a community college. It triggered me to write about how I was only interesting in music my peers were listening to but then became in love with listening all sorts of music.

Long Essay revised-Paris Holmes "Weird Music"

For many years I listened to urban music, mostly all of my life. You know, music mostly minorities listen to. I consider it our music or black music. Years ago I've registered for a music class at the community college I'd been attending, only three minutes away from my apartment in Jersey City New Jersey, catching the Bergen Avenue bus. I went in thinking I would be learning to play an instrument like the bass drum or the piano. I had always been interested in playing an instrument once I saw the band at my high school play during half time of a football game.

During high school when I was on the football team, I was not a starter so I was able to peek over at the band being that I was only getting in to return kicks on special teams. I discovered that halftime was game time for the band.

What I didn't expect when I started class was that I would be learning the history of music and the way it was seen and used psychological. If I knew that I could drop classes, I would have done so. As it turned out, my teacher assigned me to listen to this really weird type of music on a CD that same night. He had given us the homework before given us the lecture. Like all hoodlums, ghetto people or whatever a more suburbanized individual would call us, I listened to only hip-hop and R&B. Even spanish music with beat was considered hip-hop but I never listened to anything else. I just was not interested. To me this weird music just had no rhythm and it was just boring. How could anyone of anytime listen to this type of music.

I literally wanted to bring a little pillow to class since other people were bored to sleep and he didn't say a word to them. I guess college was different from high school. FInally the professor tells us his name and that we should call him professor instead of teacher or Mister. Professor Rush became the first teacher I'd ever called professor. He was playing classical music that I saw on black and white channels when I would be turning to find a good movie to watch at home. He played this dark type of music that I would only see on a silent dramatic film. He played this happy but weird country music. This one made me think of a bunch of hill billy white men square dancing at a hall in a quiet town near the mountains.

This weird music on the CD he was playing I was just not in to. They actually have names for these type of songs. Chamber music? I asked myself. What the hell is chamber music. When this type of song is played it sounds like a bunch of vikings are running my way. This is basically music that's performed in a small room or hall. I learned that because the way halls are built, performers could not get the exact sound outside of a chamber. "Like singing in the shower" the professor said, "We all sound good in the shower but terrible outside of it". The baroque music, that was the next one he played. I forget exactly the history behind it but I know you can relate it to the renaissance era in the 1600's. He was finished boring us to death with these old sounds and started to play some modern music. He started off with blues, I was not in to this but I respected it since my ancestors were apart of this. All of this music made me feel as if I was at a different place in a different time zone. He played this song, it was classical music mixed with Christmas bells or some sort that made me think of the holiday season. He asked the class what did it remind us of. Immediately, I raised my hand. "I see you have your hand up, are you familiar with this tune, does it remind you of something?" he asked. I said, "Yes, it reminds me of one of those diamond commercials during the holidays". Then he showed us the video to the matching song and I was right.

This class began to get interesting, it seem like everyone had left but they were sleep, texting, or chatting on this new social website called "Facebook". The professor explained to me, that music is used everywhere, during the holidays, during weddings, during funerals, in movies. I thought hard for a minute and said to myself that he was actually right.  What really had me up in the front row was when he told me how slaves used music to kill time or help keep them happy when things were going bad. I then wanted to know the history behind every music genre. There wasn't enough time in class but I knew there were many more classes to come. I became very curious to find out. I found out that the reason why blues genre sounds the way it sounds is because around the time when it was first introduced or played, it was by black people who were struggling. That's why the blues makes people feel happy. This was a way for black people to be happy when times were very hard. When I closed my eyes and listened to some songs that the professor played from the blues genre, I imagined two black guys on the porch singing. The other song he played that had no words still said something. To me, it seem like it was still two older guys on the porch complaining about not getting something their way but being happy that they're still here.

That country music I had heard earlier was called Appalachian music. The name is actually derived from The Appalachian mountains. I felt good about myself to be able to hear music and kind of guess what type of people listen to it. The professor showed us how music was used in film, especially silent film that had no dialogue. Music helped film tell a story without a actor's voice. The timing of a pitch or  whether the melody is major or minor determines the mood of the scene. "You wouldn't hear happy music in a film where someone important is being killed", he said. Of course I didn't need music class to learn that movies use music but I learned how different types of music was used to express different feelings. Whether it's a action film, drama film, romantic film or a comedy music helps out a lot.

Now he's playing rap, and R&B and pop music, which made the class interested. But I was more interested in how the names names rap, R&B and pop came about. Rap stood for rhythm and poetry, R&B stood for rhythm and blues and pop stood for popular music.

So this class was not what I expected coming in but I actually an digging this class. Almost left my CD in the class but grabbed it when I seen the homework written on the board. It's tuesday night, I'm at home with that CD that had this good music on it. Tuesday night, I'm listened to that CD my teacher had given me. My mother was surprised, my sister thought I was weird, I thought I was weird when I first heard the music in class but like a friend you heard so many bad things about but he or she end up being alright with you when you finally meet them. I had learned about the history of this music and gotten new insight. I was so looking forward to the next class. My music playlist consist of many different music now besides rap and R&B. I have rock, I have pop, I have classical, I have chamber music, I have dramatic film soundtracks, I have country music, I have varieties. "Why are you playing weird music Paris?" my friends ask. I respond by saying, "Weird music? Well I must be really weird.

SHORT ESSAY REVISED "FAILING CLASSES"

I was finishing up class. So fed up with college and desperate for a passing grade. Thought about coming up with a persuasive way of asking my teacher if he'd be able to pass me for the simple fact that I knew for sure i would not become a persuasive teacher in any shape of form. The guts were not in me to tell him that but the thought wondered on the top of my skull every day of classes I had no interest in.  This teacher of mine was very old school but hipped. I guess he had learned "Swag" from other students. I was told that he'd be a hard professor but I always take these professors because I know beauty is in the eye of the beholder, meaning that I could have a different set of opinions about the teacher. Besides, according to the students I know, all students are bad professors or hard if they give homework. That, I never understood and actually felt guilty for them. Maybe that's why I'd always ended up taking them.

This professor of mines, asked us a question. "Would you rob a bank if you could get a way with it?" I said yes. I didn't feel bad and everyone looked at me and judge me but I had my reasoning. The next question he asked kept me looking up the sealing and rubbing the area underneath my bottom lip. He asked, "Would you take an "A" for a class grade but not learn anything or take an "F" but leave out the class with a thorough knowledge of the course's material?" At first I pondered and thought about needing a passing grade to graduate but then I thought about graduating but not being able to apply those skills being that I wouldn't have known them. I did not answer but I learned something that day.

I can honestly say I would not cheat if my teacher went out to have a quick bite and left the class on the day of exams. I changed my mind about robbing a bank if I could get away. Apparently, he said that there was no right or wrong answer. I hear that all the time when writing a paper on a controversial issue but he was actually trying to explain something else, something completely different. He gave us new insight on motives. The minute he said that word, I thought of the movie entitled, "Motives" with Vivica A. Fox but I still could not define the definition when he asked.

So, motives is basically the reason behind doing something bad or something considered wrong or unethical. That's not how the definition is written in the book but from the way he explained it, that's what I got from it. He said this interesting quote. "Motives Color The Means"

Next class, I'm more and more interested in this class. After so many class participations I really felt that  I could use this knowledge for my own personal benefit. Motives Color The Means, so I asked all of my friends the same questions. Would you shoot a baby? Of course they said no but the cat had their tongues when i asked if they would shoot a baby if shooting that baby would save ten thousand other babies. Quickly my boys said that was stupid and that I should ask something else. So I asked one of my friends, what were you afraid of? He answered, "Swimming" I laughed because I never knew he didn't know how to swim and that was the reason why he stayed as far away form the water when we all were at the beach two years ago. However, I said would you jump in the river for a million dollars. Surprisingly he said no. Me personally, I would ride a bull for that amount. He said there's absolutely nothing that would get me to jump in the river. I said would you do it if your little baby nephew was drowning. He started to laugh and then say, "Okay, I get it now, you're right, that's very interesting"

I still stand firm that I would rob a bank if I could get away with it because I wouldn't hurt anyone physically and I would use the money for something good. What's the motive behind a person robbing a bank, or selling drugs, or eating out of the garbage. Even if I failed the class I would have still been satisfied with knowledge of this one powerful quote, "Motives Colors The Means"

Short Essay 2 "FAILING CLASSES"

I was finishing up class. So fed up with college and desperate for a passing grade. Thought about coming up with a persuasive way of asking my teacher if he'd be able to pass me for the simple fact that I knew for sure i would not become a persuasive teacher in any shape of form. The guts were not in me to tell him that but the thought wondered on the top of my skull every day of classes I had no interest in.  This teacher of mine was very old school but hipped. I guess he had learned "Swag" from other students. I was told that he'd be a hard professor but I always take these professors because I know beauty is in the eye of the beholder, meaning that I could have a different set of opinions about the teacher. Besides, according to the students I know, all students are bad professors or hard if they give homework. That, I never understood and actually felt guilty for them. Maybe that's why I'd always ended up taking them.

This professor of mines, asked us a question. "Would you take an "A" for a class grade but not learn anything or take an "F" but leave out the class with a thorough knowledge of the course's material?" At first I pondered and thought about needing a passing grade to graduate but then I thought about graduating but not being able to apply those skills being that I wouldn't have known them. I did not answer but I learned something that day.

From time to time I think about dropping out of school and justifying it by saying that I know what I need to know and I feel I didn't need to be learning other material. I really would do this if people were not counting on me. I decided to finish school to make them proud but I'm not proud that I'm forced to take these classes. I understand being well rounded is good but students are being forced to take classes that will not benefit them in the type of work they do. 

I would rather leave class with an F and know everything.

Long Essay-Paris Holmes

             For many years I listened to hip-hop, mostly all of my life. We consider it 'our music' or what I say, black music. Years ago I've registered for a music class at the community college I'd been attending, only three minutes away from my apartment in Jersey City New Jersey, catching the Bergen Avenue bus. I went in thinking I would be learning how to play an instrument like the bass drum or the piano. I was in to football a lot but I always wanted to learn how to play drums and the piano. Even at football games, I would dance to beat of the drums behind my coach's back. What I did not expect was that I would be learning the history of music and the way it was both seen and used by people psychological. As it turned out, my teacher assigned me to listen to this weird CD every night of class. Like all black kids from Jersey City, we were only used to hip-hop. Spanish music was even considered hip-hop because it had the beat over this familiar reggae type of sound. Whatever music we could dance to was considered hip-hop. Dance meaning breaking or pop locking. 

            This sound on this CD was familiar but I just was not use to it.  I couldn’t believe these songs had names for them. The first music we listened to was chamber music. Chamber music is basically classical music that’s performed in a small room or hall. I learned that because the way halls are built, performers could not get the exact sound outside of a chamber. “Like singing in the shower” my teacher said, “We all sound good in the shower but terrible outside of it”. The next type of music was baroque music. I forget what exactly this type of music is but I know you can its related to the renaissance era in 1600’s. 

            I literally wanted to bring a little pillow to class since other people were bored to sleep and he didn’t say a word to them. I guess college was different from High School. Finally the professor tells us his name that we should call him professor instead of teacher or Mister. Professor Rush became the first teacher I’d ever called professor. Professor was finished boring us to death with these old sounds and started to play some modern music. Then he touched on something that caught my attention. He played this tune and asked the class what did it remind us of. Immediately, I raised my hand. “I see you have your hand up, are you familiar with this tune, does it remind you of something?” he said, I said, “Yes, it reminds me of one of those diamond commercials during the holidays”. Then he showed the video with the audio and I was right. This class began to get interesting, it seem like everyone had left but they were sleep, texting, or chatting on Facebook. Professor Rush explained to me, that music is used everywhere, during the holidays, during weddings, during funerals, in movies. I thought hard for a minute to myself. He’s actually right. What really had me going was when he told us a story of how slaves used to sing songs to kill time.

            I wanted to know the history behind every music genre. I became very curious to find out. I found out that the reason why blues genre sounds the way it sounds is because around the time when it was first discovered or played, it was by blacks that were struggling. That’s why the blues makes people feel happy. This was a way for people to be happy when times were very hard. The blues type of music reminds me of two old friends, singing while sitting on the porch.

            Professor Rush showed us how music was used in film, especially silent film that had no dialogue. Music helped film tell a story without dialogue. The timing of a pitch or the whether the melody is major or minor determines the mood of the music. “You wont hear happy music in a film where someone important is being killed”, he said.

            Tuesday night, I’m listened to that CD my teacher had given me. My mother was surprised; my sister thought I was weird. I thought I was weird when I first heard the music but when I learned about the history and had gotten new insight, I found it very cool.

            Finally, he gets to rap, R&B and pop music, which made the class somewhat interested. But I was more interested in how the name rap, R&B and pop came about. Rap stood for rhythm and poetry, R&B stood for rhythm and blues and pop stood for popular music.

            Today in my music playlist my album consist of many different music genres no one would not expect me to listen to. I’m very weird when it comes to the music I listen to nowadays.

            The minute I get pull over for speeding by the cops, if they’re white I play a song called “Somewhere In America” by The Outfield. It works all the time, the minute they hear this song playing in my car they say, “You, listen to The Outfield”. They are always surprised that I’m playing one of their greatest songs.

DON'T THINK ABOUT IT #10

We all think about that this very significant day and once we do we start to think about our family and friends and even things on earth. My day is going just great, my football team won, I did another short film, I met a pretty girl by the name of Charlotte. Everything was just fine until this moment popped up in my head. 

Twenty years ago, I sat in my old apartment with my grandmother, my mom, my two oldest sisters and my younger sister. We all were just getting ready to go to the beach. I could hear my grandmother complain to my mom about not wanting to go the hospital for treatment. God, I wish I wouldn't have been creeping around at that time to hear that. It was a big deal, my grandmother means that much to me. I couldn't enjoy the rest of the day since she wasn't feeling well. It seemed like whatever pain she felt, I felt. My mom came up to me and asked what was wrong, I cried out and told her that I didn't want grandma to go, why she has to go to the hospital, she's gonna die. Because of so many television shows where the patients would die in the hospital, I was certain my grandmother would pass away. She yelled out, "Stop with that crying boy, everybody has to die someday" I said, "But grandma I'm gonna miss you, I don't want you to leave now, I want you to be there when I play in the NFL" That made her give me a big hug and ten dollars but the hug was much better.

Nineteen years ago, My little brother was born, and now I was no longer the only boy. I was mostly happy because my oldest sisters could not really pick on me anymore being that they had to babysit him  when my mom went to work. My grandmother was still alive, doing somewhat okay but everyday I was praying to God that she make it to see me grow. My little brother was so tiny, I didn't really get to see my sister as a toddler because I was pretty much a toddler as well. His birth made me realize that my grandmother was even a toddler too. I asked my mom about my great grandparents, if there were any photos or documents, anything. Sadly, my mom did not know her grandparents. I felt somewhat thankful because I knew mines but my mom didn't. I found out that my great grandparents had past away only a day before my grandmother had her first child, my mom. 

Eight years later, my grandmother is still alive, my brother is eight years of age and so annoying. My sisters had both moved out of the apartment and then I became the oldest in the house, and the one picking on my little brother and sister. I just graduated middle school and just entered high school. 

As I avoid the lines while walking to school, which every little kid did, I started to count the boxes and then started to count my days here on earth. When I got to school, I stole a calculator from off the principals desk and did some calculating. I found out that I was only on earth for less than five-thousand, one hundred and ten days being that I was not even fourteen yet. My birthday was late, December 16. Wondered all day in class how long my grandmother had been here. I needed a start, I did not even know my grandmother's age. She just would not tell me. All of that time flew by and I can remember further back the more older I get. Every year something comes back to me and it's interesting because I always think it's my little sister's story or image I'm seeing in my head but it comes clear to me that it's me.

I'm a big boy now, just turned fifteen and I'm playing football, I'm talking to girls, I got the coolest bike in the neighborhood. This is like the best time of my life. I'm doing everything, at least I think. I'm already wishing to be an adult. So I could stay out late, smoke cigarettes and drive a car. That was just how my brain had gotten brainwash from too much television. The best thing was that my grandmother was still alive. She was doing much better, laughing, walking, going on vacations. Whatever happiness she felt, I felt. 

Senior year in high school, two years later my mom had gotten pneumonia. She was in the hospital for a week. I had gotten so depressed and wanted to drop out of school to be with her. My grandmother was watching me but not even that could help me deal with the pain. I'm so attached to my mom and my grandmother. What rage I can get just by picturing someone hurting either of them. I took that rage out on the field, I didn't care about concussions, I didn't care about hurting anyone else, I just wanted to let all of the anger out.  After the game I cried because my mom had promise me she would be there and there she was, out of the hospital, with my grandmother. The thing was, she was still sick. She pretended she was feeling okay and got out the hospital just to watch my first high school football game. After that I became more and more emotional. I can draw very good but the only picture I can't draw is my mother or grandmother passing away. 

Six years later, today, I'm twenty four years of age, I'm a senior in college, could've been finished with college but I needed to be there for my grandmother and mother after high school so I waited two years before attending school. I had to make a sacrifice, the both of them made sacrifices for me so it was the right thing to do even though they told me not to. Anyway, I'm at the university I attend, planning the shooting dates of my film, emailing actors, revising the script, shooting music videos, taking photos, editing footage, writing tons and tons of papers for classes I really don't need. My day is going just great, my football team won, I did another short film, I met a pretty girl by the name of Charlotte. Everything was just fine until this moment popped up in my head. My mother is replacing my grandmother. My oldest sisters are replacing my mom. I'm replacing my oldest sisters. My grandmother is gone. Who's next?

Behind Why is Reason #9

Thou shall not lie but what do you say to a kid who believes in Santa, or to a girl who plans to throw a surprise birthday party for her mom. Do you tell a person they are a little over weight? I don't think so, you lie. Its something we humans can't get away from. This is why I sometimes think someone created the bible just to keep us in check.
Thou should not steal but what do you say to a homeless man who is starving, or to a thirteen year old boy who is poor, staring down at a hot piece of steak on the grill. I heard once of a man who robbed a store just for diapers and milk formula. A lot of people see things but never really put themselves in the perspective of it.
Its like blaming a student for hitting another student without knowing who started. Looking from outside in and not from inside out. I see this all the time. I'm pretty fair, and on the fence. I put myself in a person's shoes because I understand that motives colors the means. By the way, I heard that in my persuasion class.
I even put myself in the shoes of a rapist, I know its nuts but I do. I picture the rapist being some guy who's having a hard time with finding sex. I'm not justifying or saying that a guy should be able to rape women if he has a reason to rape women, I'm saying that I know why he's raping women.
He wouldn't harm a fly, yeah right. I bet if he was offered a million bucks he would kill the fly, squash it and all. That's how powerful money is and money is only powerful because it buys what's needed to survive.
People lie and say that certain things work for you, like pro active. Let's just put our selves in their shoes, what if pro active really did work. People would be able to use it one time and never have to buy it again, you think Pro Active want that? The answer is no. They want you to keep coming back.
We humans are funny beings. I like to observe things. This one time it was me and another person on the bus, a women. I pretended to drop my wallet without knowing and she said nothing. I laughed so hard inside because I knew if she happened to be on the bus with other people, she would have said something just to get brownie points for being a good samaritan.
Let's see what happens when there's a bus full of people. I try this and of course, about four people yelled at me, "You're wallet sir." Oh thanks, I didn't even realize it. By the way, I just lied, but that was to prove a pont. Do I go to hell for that?
I hate it when I actually do be nice, go out of my way to do a good deed but never have it happen to me. I lost my wallet with all of my info and no one bothered to give it back. Lost my phone, lost my harddrive. But I returned about, six phones, three wallets and many flashdrives and storage devices other students had left inside of computers.
Feelings has a lot to do with it at times. I know how it feels to lose all of your school work, papers, notes, pictures so I return things like that. I know how it feels to lose money when you have something to pay that's important so I return things like that. What about a person who never had his things stolen, he would probably not return them because he doesn't know how it feels. Or then again, maybe he will because it hasn't happened to him.
I can't kill anyone. The consequences are too big. But who thinks about that when revenge is on your mind, and a family member is shot and killed, in front of your face. The motives colors the means.
Survival, feelings, to make one self look good around others are....well I'm not gonna tell you why.

Confudido

      At times I wish I could just look at the paper and words would just appear. Its a new world so I should've said, "I wish I could just look at the screen and the words just appear. Too much is going on right now, I love a challenge but I can't handle all the challenges at once. She's telling me this, and he's telling me that. Soon as I get finish with one task, another is right behind it coming up. It makes sense but then it really doesn't. I'm here at work, doing work so I won't have to wok. I will say that again. I'M HERE AT WORK, DOING WORK SO I WON'T HAVE TO WORK. School, my job and all I want to do is make movies and write for people who are in to the things I'm in to.  Do you want to take a ride with me? Hop in and let's go.
         So I'm in a room full of future business owners or CEO'S or whatever the heck you call them, I'm not interested in that. The so called "Master" and "Mrs Know It All" asks me a question that a interviewer would ask me at a job. We were suppose to tell her what we wanted to work as and what was our dream jobs. "If you could be an animal what would you be?", she asked. Everyone bit their nails and looked up and around. I yelled out, "A Tiger". She then put me on the spot and asked why. I said the word, "Independence". I'm looking at her but seeing the rest of the class look at me as if I was stupid. Be specific is what I was told. She moved in like a lens zooming on a camera, even her eyes opened wider like the iris in the lens. She did all that just to say this, "How does being independent apply to any company, I wouldn't hire you." Now I'm listening to her but hearing the class laugh at me. I was being nice, polite, because I knew I was in public and around professional people but I had to flip out and introduce Class to Jersey City. I said, "What the fuck are you laughing for, at least I answered" and then I yelled at the teacher and said, "BEING INDEPENDENT TEACHES YOU HOW TO WORK ALONE IF THE COMPANY ASSIGNED YOU TO WORK ON A TASK OR PROJECT BY YOURSELF OR IF SOMETHING HAPPENS TO YOUR COWORKERS". I calmed down and told her that being a independent filmmaker with no crew, forces you to learn every aspect of filmmaking, from writing, to directing, to doing sound, to editing, to casting the actors, to making the music, to raising money, to budgeting. I just wanted to write, shoot and edit. So because I didn't have a crew and was independent, I can work alone if needed to. How do you like them apples, I didn't say that part to her but I sure said it in my mind.
    After class my teacher had wanted to apologize but I was in a rush, I had to call up one of my actors to tell them what was going on. Yet, I was surprised that she knew she was wrong but I brushed it off and said its okay.  I'm off to my little professional meeting.
     Thought all of this equipment I have would have been football equipment but things hit you by surprize. That's why I do take things seriously in my classes, the teachers might think I'm not taking things in but just because I'm not reinforcing it to them doesn't mean I'm not keeping it for myself to use later in my life.
     I done left class to go to another class. I usually have my meetings and table reads at the school I attend. I figure I use my resources. Shit, they use all of my money anyway. I purposely leave the lights and all computers on for that reason but then I think about the environment and shut them off. Anyway, I'm call up Alfred. He's an underated actor. I mean he is good and what I like about him is that he's in to this shit. He's like that person in your family who could sing really good but never showed his gift to anyone. I'm trying to change that and get him out there in the film world as an actor, but this other actor named Michael who's halfway out there is holding me up. Its Ironic because I thought Michael was passionated about acting and would never leave me out in the dust. Sadly, right before shooting the first scene, he backed out. In the script there's a line that says, "You're gonna leave me in the dust, Be there for me when I need you the most". Mike was the actor who said that, too bad for me he is the person his character was talking to, in real life. There's a lot of actors in the world so I'm not gonna sweat it.
       Me and Alfred mention good things about Michael and both aggreed to move on. He said he didn't blame me and I was fair about it. It feels good to know that I'm not the bad guy.
       Wow, I have to post a freaking blog for my English class. I'm gonna call you later man, I say to Alfred. I'm already in class, on the computer but why can't I write? I'm so confused on what should I do. I really want to give up because I know a lot and enough to do what I want to do but I didn't come all this way for nothing and I'm not just doing this for me. I was paid six hundred bucks to shoot a video that I still have not edited yet. Why? I don't know. I do know but I don't know. I do know its because I have tons of work to do for English, Business, Sportswriting and even writing for my Digital Photography class. All of that plus writing video ideas for music artist. I would stop doing music videos but I get payed for that and I could use that money for rent. I have a job but because of school I don't work enough hours. Well because of work, I'm tired in school. Then because of school I don't really have time to shoot my movie. I want to quit my job but how will I stay in contact with my actors. My phone bill, rent, school is killing me.
     I'm really confused. I don't know what to do. Homeless people don't pay bills. If I lived in my car and quit my job i'd have more time to do school work. If I'd quit school I'd have more time to make film and work.
     I was confused and disappointed that Michael dropped out of my film. He is a really good actor and he had the look that I wanted for the film. If I was him and he was me, I would have done the same. I understand that he dropped out because I didn't have the shooting dates ready. This film was suppose to be shot in October, it's November now and I haven't even introduce all of the actors together. Things come up, and the world is not going to stop for me. Sometimes you just have to   I'm done thinking about this stuff, this is not the way she wanted to write this. She wanted sections. Is this even creative nonfiction? I think this is more of just writing out my thoughts. I need to wash my hair, all of this dirt is in my nails. I'm done, my next blog will be amazing, this one is just to get things off of my chest. I need a title. How do you say confused in spanish? Alfred is spanish, he would know. Hey what's up man. Na, he still doesn't want to be in the film but I'm calling you to translate something for me, would've texted you but I'm writing my blog from my phone because if I'd exit out it would not have saved. How do you say confused in spanish? Okay, thanks man.   
     

Paranoid-best short piece

It's a rush and a sense of urgency. Someone is after me and rushing me at the same time. I have to shoot this baby of mines I have been raising for three years. It's been very stressful and time consuming but I have to do what I have to do. I can't sit here and look at it because it pisses me off. What if something happens to me. What if I don't get it done and it's too late. So many things in the world I want to do before I die and shooting this three year old baby will help a lot.

I am running from what everyone faces at their end, I know it will catch up to me soon but I must do things while I'm out of its reach. It can pop up anytime and anywhere. Some people have strange and crazy things on their bucket list. Some people have a desire to rob a bank at least once in their life just to see if they'd get away. Others want to go skydiving when they know they are afraid of heights. I just want to shoot this three year old baby I have been raising. I don't know why it feels like I have to do it but I just have to do it. It will make me feel better to know that I've done this simple task before death catches up to me.

All I want to do is make film, I'm getting older and I want to shoot at least one film before I die.

Movie and a Photo by Paris Holmes

            Ever since I saw the movie Back to the Future, I was so fascinated with the thought of going back in time. What if I could actually go back in time and change something in the past to make my future different, which would be today. It is weird but a deep thought. I wonder if I could write to little Paris and send an email to Mr. Holmes. Not possible at all, but I feel there is a one percent chance. Maybe I can’t change my past but I know there has to be a way I can revisit it.

            I looked through some old photos of me as a senior in high school. My birthday was in December so I was sixteen for three months. Just thinking of my age then compared to now made me go back even further. It made me go back to eighth grade. I remember my progress report being flushed down the toilet as I watch it sink like a person trapped in a whirlpool. The progress report was mailed to my house since my mother didn’t know about “Parent-Teacher conference” I purposely avoided telling her. Unfortunately, I don’t know how but that soggy progress report ended up on my dresser when I woke up. I could’ve starred right along with Michael J. Fox when I acted like I had a bad fever. Well at least I thought I would have gotten an Oscar. Too bad my mother was on to my shenanigans. My mother spanked me with the belt that was used by my grandmother to spank her, how ironic. I want to ask little Paris a question. What if that progress report never sunk back up? What if the beater from hell “my mom” never found that progress report? Would I be writing this story? Boy did I become a straight “A” student after that ass spanking, or ass whooping or whatever a person calls “thick leather belt to a thirteen year olds’ buttocks”.

            I love film but this is something that found its way to me. Little Paris would say that football is the one thing he loves to do. However, he did not realize that movies were just as much important to him. Film pretty much saved me from the pain I get when I think about not being able to play football. It hurts so much when I know that I am good enough and I tried everything in my heart to play but things just didn’t work out. Film helps the pain but photos of me in a football uniform brings me back to high school football.

            I was like fifteen year old. Here’s a great photo of me on the sideline. Here’s one of me giving water to the starters, at least I was on the field. Wow, this is the one photo that brings me back to my junior year when I was not getting any playing time. This is also the one photo that motivated me to become a starter my senior year.

            These other guys might be faster and bigger but I love this game and know that I cannot play this forever so I’m going to cherish every moment. That’s the upper hand I had over the other players. They did it for the touchdowns. I did it for the game.

            When I look at the photo that’s stuck on my sister’s refrigerator, I go into a daze. I think back to my very first game as a starter, as a senior football player. The picture is of me at age sixteen, lots of acne but not too extreme. We were home so we had to wear our dark-colored orange uniforms. My jersey number is 34. I should say, “My jersey number was 34” but I actually took my jersey. Although I did something amazing on special teams by returning a kick return back for a touchdown after telling my players I was going to score a touchdown, I did not do well on defense at all. It’s so crazy how I want to go back to that exact day and change it but I can’t. I can go back to that day, but I can’t change it. But I would like to ask little Paris another question. What if I actually did play well on defense and my team did end up winning?

            I question God sometimes and ask, why God? Why I couldn’t do something I love so much. One day I was just watching a random show of x football players. It showed the lives of many players after football. I was shocked to learn that a lot of players end up with brain diseases and injuries that become crucial.

            In my sports writing class, my professor went off topic today and told us a story about how the NFL would not give a dime to retired players. These players put their lives on the line for this game and to know that the NFL does not give a shit about them gets under my skin. The point my teacher was trying to make to us is that the sports writer who wrote all of those stories became the voice for those retired players. The point I am trying to make is that it’s weird how things work out. You might not understand why but you get to connect the dots as you go on with life.  

            My high school football team went 3-7. That was a bad record; we only beat the teams we were supposed to beat. I was really angry and I just wanted to take my anger out in college football. I started playing street football a lot with grown ups and other people that were actually playing in college. I had started playing with more anger. I was a wide receiver and usually wide receivers are the guys that avoid big hits. I actually ran towards the big hits and delivered big hits of my own. I just became possessed somewhat and just wanted to run everyone over. I was angry that scouts did not come to look at my high school when I was playing there so I had decided to attend college and walk on. Anyway, I went to a community college for two years and then transferred to a university. College was not for me; I just attended with hopes of playing football. Going in to the university, my major was sociology. I really thought the subject was interesting but I could not see myself being motivated to get up for work everyday. I had to change my major to something else. I wanted my major to be something I could actually enjoy doing. All I wanted to do was play football. It was football this and football that. I didn’t know what I had wanted to major in. I had a long talk with my mom and I finally figured out what I wanted to do, if “football” did not work out. It’s cliché but moms do know best.

            The way I play now, I can definitely see Mr. Holmes getting Alzheimer’s or some type of brain illness if I was able to play. I was willing to go head to head against a line backer twice my size. Even knowing that this can cause serious brain injuries, I still would love to do it.

            You’re welcome Mr. Holmes. You’re welcome Mrs. Holmes if I’d happen to get married later on in life, and my wife agrees to change her last name. That could be the reason God did not want me to play this game. I have too much heart for the game. I am like a soldier in the battlefield. I would risk my life for my team. That could be good and dangerous.

            It's good to think in the past, It'll keep you present for the future.

           

           

           

           

blog 1 From reading these pieces I feel that they are all in first person form. The stories takes me along with the person experiencing it. It's kind of like a navigator. I find that the features of creative nonfiction are true and compelling. I also feel that these type of creative nonfiction stories pulls reader inside, by breaking one story into little pieces to help describe events leading up to the big event. I see that each person telling the story were all very descriptive. Essential Features of Creative Nonfiction 1. True 2. Descriptive 3. Compelling 4. Raw and not made up 5. Journey 6. Biography Sometimes 1. Imaginative 2. Personal 3. Public 4. Private I could not really find a difference between the short forms and long forms because to me they both are deep and personal. "I Think I'm Musing My Mind" was very deep, I kind of felt sorry for the reader as if I am going through what he/she is going through. Then there is another story, "Portrait of my Body" that also makes me feel the same way, sad and sympathetic for the writer. All of these stories made me feel the same way, so as of now, I can't really point out the difference.