Local woman lays down law

CHATTANOOGA, Tenn. — After months of chaos and compromise, Chattanooga woman Sarjen, 30, decided to enforce stricter rules in her suburban apartment home regarding her cousin, Joseph, 14, who moved into the apartment Aug. from Mich.

Photo of Chattanooga woman, Sarjen, at her wits end. Note
her disheveled appearance and angry expression.
Cameraman Mike had to dodge a fist after taking this photo.

     Sarjen, who had previously given the only bedroom to Joseph, took the room back and reorganized the apartment furniture. She cleaned the kitchen and sorted laundry as a start to what she called, "The new clean regime." 

      The regime was her carefully constructed plan to maintain a clean living space and would require regular chores by Joseph.

     "I love Joe," Sarjen said, "And these chore requirements aren't a punishment for his hurtful disrespect towards me, but a plan for a clean home that will make him happy and comfortable living here."

     There has been no word yet from Joseph on how he feels about the new changes. 

     "That's probably because he doesn't know about them yet," Sarjen added.

     In addition to the added chores, Joseph will lose computer and phone privileges until they have been earned. A new incentive program Sarjen calls, "Responsible parenting for the good of the child." Earning of these privileges will be outlined at a later date, but Sarjen feels optimistic about the success.

     "I don't know if things will work out with Joe living here for long, but while he's here I plan on finding things for him to do with his time besides staring at screens. He has so many opportunities for a better life here, but now he's going to have to earn them."

I Won't Be Flying Anytime Soon

"At the heart of the controversy over 'body scanners' is a promise: The images of our naked bodies will never be public. U.S. Marshals in a Florida Federal courthouse saved 35,000 images on their scanner.These are those images."

I want to write something about this... I'll be working on it.

A little something I read somewhere online today: 
Time magazine says that “It’s no secret that eating something tasty and having sex are pleasurable, anxiety-reducing activities. But researchers studying stress responses in rats found that sex and food could reduce anxiety even over the long term, for up to 7 days.”
Good news for people with significant others.


I have interviews to do today. I hate doing interviews because I suck at them. Wish me luck. 

Is This Crazy

I want to do some editing, so I've been looking on Craigslist for editing jobs and offering people with book manuscripts free editing in exchange for a recommendation. It's just an internship as far as I see it, although it's a lot of work. I think in the long run it'll pay off both in additions to my resume and in experience editing long works. Is it practical, though? I have a tough semester coming up.

I've been going over my book from advanced expository writing called The Well-Crafted Sentence. It's a great book for learning how to improve your writing style, and it helps pinpoint issues in writing that keep it from sounding fresh. I definitely recommend this book to writers who feel like they need to elevate the level of sophistication in their sentence construction.

I haven't been feeling motivated to read lately and it bothers me. There is so much to read and I feel like I'm wasting some great opportunities to learn new stuff, but sometimes a person just doesn't feel like reading and unfortunately right now is that time for me. I haven't been very hardworking at all lately, though, and I don't know why that is.

Chop Shop

After having two workshops in my fiction writing class, I now hate my fiction writing class.

I was corresponding with one of my classmates about it and I told him that I feel like an utter failure as a writer after our class rips up my work. He tried to tell me that it was just the nature of workshops, but I held to the belief that it's not. I've had several classes where we've workshopped writing and they've always helped me to see the flaws in my writing and turn my work into a better product.

This class is not like that. It feels to me that sometimes it's insecurity that's driving the students' harshness and lack of interest in helping out a fellow writer, but I'm not sure if that's what it is. Maybe they just aren't very experienced writers. The professor I really don't get though. He seldom gives actual positive feedback. And I don't think he's praised anything of mine yet. He should know that beginning writers need a little encouragement and that doesn't mean lying to them. Just let them know they don't suck at writing.

This is a rant, I know. And it sounds very much like I'm blaming everyone but myself, but I'm not trying to, really. I'm just trying to make sense of such a bad experience in a class that's about producing the type of writing I love. It's been disappointing to me, but I'm very thankful I have my feature writing class this semester. Workshops there have helped me produce writing that's suitable for mass media and has been printed in a newspaper. I've learned a lot and gained so much confidence from that class.

It's been hard for me to get to the revisions I have to make on my fiction story. I appreciated the suggestions I got, but I just don't feel motivated to produce more writing for fiction class. The writing is not satisfying at all. I don't like the feeling of putting so much effort into telling a story and then getting nothing from the reader but criticism and disappointment. I know what being a writer means; it means often hearing that someone doesn't like what you wrote. There is usually some safety among other writers, though, and I don't feel that at all with the fiction class.

I Luvz teh Kittez

Just cuz a fellow blogger posted a cute pic and I've recently fallen in love with these kitties... I give you LOLCat.

... and a couple for Theresa. :)

(Forced) Sex on the Beach

Burped gin again
Warm worm of vomit abates
Wash the stars and moons from
Around my eyes
The too-strong stink of sex and drink
My stiff, scratchy towel
Won't scrub away

A sham of a date in the dim
Din of beach waves
Passing over me
His hands mashed
The tips of my tits raw

The riotous ride I tried
To flee
But groggy and smashed
I sunk like a stone
Washed by swells of lust
And amid the dunes, cold
And alone, I awoke

Yeah, I Play Around With Words Sometimes

It's fun to put words together and see how they sound. Lately I've been putting Boggle words together as poems and seeing what they make. It makes me happy.

Romance in the Rubble

He shat atop a tire,
A homemade toilet seat
As I talked with him of friends
Of money and of better things.
We two enjoyed the setting day
In our sheltered garbage heap.

"Bring me the rosiest and broadest
Of those leaves in yonder spray,"
He said,
"And I'll finish up and take you
To the Old Country Buffet."

So our evening plans were made,
In the scarce autumn shade,
As he shat atop a tire,
A homemade toilet seat.

After a Grope

Stout and sweaty
She nods her head
To the beat
Dry, dirty snot on her lip
Beer slosh to each
Bump to her hip
Soot on her ass
From the rub
And riding on the den
Hearth cold and
Clothes flung
Minutes ago now

Leering through the
Smoky blue music mire
She slaps her thigh
And bats her eye

Shallow Grave

Fuck a slob
Deep in the woods
Suck the fat lobes
The vogue love-beat

Handing the goods
With a slap
Snapping the log and
Gushing wet sap
The still wood goes
To bed

I crunch the nuts as
Tripping back in
Dark passages bated
With the beating of
Wings like breath
I helm your death

Boggle Poem

I've been writing poems from my Boggle words a lot lately. I don't strictly limit myself to the words I found in the game, but they highly influence the words I choose and determine the direction the poem takes. I don't claim to enjoy poetry or even try to write good poems, but it's fun to write bad ones. Here's my latest:

A fox like Joe
Sleeps beside the sofa on the floor
Weeps crocodile tears with a grin
And jests to get more
You can't win shat
With this rat

Bite and tear he shall
This brat will still dupe
You to do what you refused before
The task that you asked
Still undone

But complete is his ease
With a snort you know he's
Fast asleep on his face on the floor

I was angry with Joe last night, so that actually might have influenced the direction of this poem a little more than the Boggle words.

Editors Ruin Everything

I have another article in print, and just like the last one, the editor made it sound worse than it did before! She took out the dramatic intro, cut things that worked and actually removed the first reference to the playwright at the beginning, leaving the second and only reference -halfway through the feature - as the first and leaving it just the last name! Just "Treadwell." I know this is confusing and you don't know what I'm talking about, but here, just see for yourself.

It's awful, I know. I used the word "electrified" as a cute pun (OK, I know that could be tasteless since the protagonist was killed in the electric chair, but I don't think it is.), and the editor removed it. There's something off about it and I haven't yet compared it to my draft, but it used to flow and now it just blows. This kind of stuff makes me almost want to give up, but I won't. It's too much fun to pick up a paper and see my name above a story.

Plays, Puns and Burning Out In the End

I turned in my Echo feature about the theater department's play. I think it was OK, although I struggled to make it in time for the deadline. I love writing, but sometimes it's hard coming up with the words. I'll get another chance to improve after next week. (There's no paper during Thanksgiving week.)

My sister said she liked how I used "newspaper puns" in my Pulse story. I thought about that and I noticed that I was drawn to using them in my piece about the play. It's funny, when I read stories that use corny puns it annoys me, but I go ahead and use them in my writing.

I registered for spring classes and all I can say is it's going to be rough. I have some notoriously tough classes with notoriously tough professors. I'm sure I'll make it through just fine, but I'll have to push through some major burnout. I'm struggling through it now and I can just imagine how bad it'll be during my last semester.

I have to stay for the summer, sadly. The internship and a computer class are the last things I have to complete before I graduate. It occurred to me that I won't be able to take another class with Rebecca Cook or Jennifer Beech and that makes me sad. They are the two writing professors that have influenced me the most and I really loved being in their classes. If they both offered writing classes in the summer I'd be in them for sure, but I don't think that's going to happen.

Boo Hoo

I want to make people cry. I've been trying to do that for a couple weeks now and I don't think I've even come close yet.

I want people to cry at my story. I'm talking about the one I adapted from the news story about the executions. I think I mentioned this one on here before. Anyway, I think it's come along very well in the last week, but it doesn't have the tension and the emotional gravity that it needs.

Today in workshop one of my classmates had the satisfaction of hearing that she caused one person in class to cry, and others were saddened by her story. It made me want it even more. I want them to weep.

I'm not mean, and I think you all know that (although, I was taking a great deal of enjoyment from my cousin, Joe, getting a root canal today).

Oh, and I'm now volunteering to write feature stories for the school newspaper, The Echo. I'll be turning in my first story on Sunday to be printed in next week's paper.

Networking

For one of my classes I have to write a column for a newspaper. I thought boo! I don't have anything to write a column about. But I'm finding that it's more fun to write than it sounds. Out of sports, life, entertainment, politics, international, and business, I chose life. My column is about off-campus life, and in it I discuss the things that make life different for a student who has never lived on a college campus and never will.

In the first column I wrote about parking, roommate problems and having my cat, Puppy. It's kind of rough, though, so I want to write another column today to see if I can get it smoother.

I haven't been sticking to my schedule. That may be because I've been fighting off a cold for most of this week, but next week should be better.

While I was interviewing a source yesterday, it occurred to me to see if I could get a client, too. The subject I was interviewing works at one of my former jobs and I asked him to pass my card along to a man in the office I thought might have some work for me. I'll be following up on that next week.

Revision Reunion

I had an interesting experience in my fiction writing class today that I want to share. I was forced into a revision that I didn't want to do.

The professor had told us to bring a work in progress that we could practice revising and, of course, I forgot to grab something. The only piece of work I had in my backpack was the first workshop story I had written for that class. I was dissatisfied with the story when I was writing it because it wasn't what I wanted to say, but I hadn't had enough time to devote to it. When I submitted it to the class for critique the whole thing jumped around, it didn't explain enough to the reader, and there wasn't a development in the plot. I didn't expect good things from my readers. And I didn't get anything positive from them when it came time to discuss it.

After workshop I hated the story entirely. I felt like I had tried to make a relationship work out with someone who turned out to be incompatible with me and it ended in a lousy break up. I didn't want to see its opening paragraph ever again. I thought it best if we parted ways and never spoke to each other again. I remember feeling reluctant for a while afterwards of starting any new stories because I was afraid I'd have a repeat of the last one.

Here I was today, forced to confront this past fling and try to make it work. I went into it with an open mind, though. I didn't think it could really disappoint me more than it already had. So, I started pointing out its faults and suggesting improvements. I blocked out so many bad mistakes. If we could only find the areas that worked...

There were parts that I felt were telling the essence of the story, so I circled those, and there were a couple scenes in particular that involved good character interaction. I think I'll actually spend more time with this story in the future. I think we might actually have a future. There's still a lot of work ahead for us, but this was a pretty good revision experience for me.

Re Vision

I have a tough time with revising. In all the times I've done it it hasn't been bad, but I still dread going over my work and trying to see it with fresh eyes. I have a big problem distancing myself from the work. Sometimes, when I let the censor in, I end up hating the whole project. I have several stories that bombed in workshop and I couldn't go back to.

I like the basic tips in this article. It's good for a reminder. I think a big part of the problem is that I just don't care enough about my writing right now. I don't really know why that is.

(I just reread and revised this post.)

In an effort to make myself more efficient now that I don't have a job, yet still haven't gotten more writing done, I've created a daily schedule. I'll get on it tonight and see over the course of the week how it works for me.

(I almost revised this post again, but I stopped caring. What's wrong with me?)

I'll get to work on revisions and maybe I'll have a breakthrough. In the meantime I'll also be developing and writing my new stories.

One more thing, I've been having an extremely hard time staying away from facebook. And my will power is horrible. What should I do? I allotted time for Internet at night and during school, but I'm not sure I'll be able to stay off. The sad part is that I just want to see what's happened since I left, like I'm afraid I'll miss something. I don't like it.

Thirty

That's all I kept thinking about yesterday. I'm thirty years-old. Now, I'm not complaining. I'm very happy that I've had thirty years and I hope I get to stick around for a whole lot more, but I would just like to have a few more accomplishments to my name. That's all.

I had a good birthday, even if it was boring. Joey (my 14-year-old cousin) and I watched a movie, I drank wine. I gave him some. Is this starting to sound a little creepy? He didn't drink much of the little bit I gave him, but the idea was to let him have a little alcohol so it would seem less romantic, off-limits and appealing, and then maybe he wouldn't think getting trashed was as awesome as a lot of other teens do.

Yesterday I got a ridiculous deal on a digital audio recorder. Originally $109.00, I got it for $54.00 at Best Buy. What's wrong with this thing? I wondered about it. I'm skeptical. I'm also pretty broke and I need to do some interviews. The recorder I had was being unreliable and wouldn't record when I needed it to. This one feels like a lightweight piece of garbage, though.

I wrote about five pages of a short story that I based off of a story in the newspaper Friday. It's about two girls in Somalia who were accused by militants of being spies and were executed by a firing squad in front of the members of their town. Unwilling witnesses to the executions, the people who watched were outraged and horrified. I don't know how much of the story can be real. I want to use the real names of the victims. I also don't want to have to make up a village. I can use the true info, can't I?