Memoir Assignment:
We discussed and took notes on the memoir genre in class (11/15/10).
1. Post a short memoir written about your relationship with a person, place, or thing.
2. Comment on someone else's memoir.
3. Answer the question: Why might an author choose to write a memoir instead of a biography?
"Memoirs of Marilin"
ReplyDeleteMarilin was my favorite thing in the world when I first bought her. Playing marilin was like my own drug to me because it allowed me to be relaxed and block things out to be somewhere else other than where I currently was.
I remember every morning during the summer I would wake up and pick up my new acoustic. I would play with Mariling with nothing else in mind other than hearing six strings play. That would last for about a couple of hours and that would pretty much be my morning. It was one song from one of my favorite bands that i was playing where I remebered my freind's middle name was Marilin.
From there I decided to name my acoustic guitar Marilin. It fitted the guitar also with its natural wood finish and its soft sound I never got tired of.
Playing Marilin everyday was time for me, myself, and I that one would bother with a few certain exceptions like if I play a song for someone or someone special to me
I liked this!
ReplyDelete"Memoir of Blankie"
ReplyDeleteI remember my blankie. It was blue with green letters overlayed with white. I slept with it every night. Blankie was my best friend,cover,and comforter. When i would have a nightmare, blanie was there for me. When i was scared,blankie comforted me. When i was lonely watching a scary movie,blankie was my best friend covering my eyes. But also i remember the day blankie got taken away from me. WE were moving and blankie got put in a box. That box even 6 years later I still can't find even today. I miss blankie sometimes even though i'm fifteen. I loved blankie.
"Failure Beauty"
ReplyDeleteShe was a smooth beauty, oh boy did I love to paint her. The glossy spray paint piercing her frame giving her a new look with every coating of paint. She would follow me everywhere and everyday of the week, I would always look after her and she would always look after me wether I was asleep or awake she would always be there for me. Her rattling chain would send me shivers down my spine, and when I was in trouble she would lift me off of my feet and carry me off into the wonders of the world waving past society. I remember the day I first made eyes with her, she was carrying another man, but I knew i had to ave her, sh was ment to be mine. I talked to her man, I begged and I pleaded for this man to let her be mine, but he would recist. So on one solid night, I sneeked into his chamber and then once I saw her I grabbed her and then she picked me up and put me on her shoulders and off we where into the cold misty night, the following morning I gave her a bath and I sanded her down. Then I primed her, and eentually spray painted her into my African Booty Queen. I would always and forever love my BMX Bike.
MEMOIR OF MY GRANDFATHER
ReplyDeleteWhen i was a kid me and my family used to go on vacations to Mexico.During my vacation in Mexico i was a kid and i always used t play with my little cousins and friends.But what i remember the most about going to Mexico is my good relationship with my grandfather.He was such a great men,who always used to made me laught and have a great time.Also I remember that everynight before going to sleep,he prayed with me everynight and asked for me to have good wonderful dreams.
One day,after finishing up breakfast he thought me how to feed a baby sheep.I was scared out of my mind that the sheep might snatch my hand and bite it.But then after it was adorable and cute.My grandpa was a nice guy, he knew everything when i asked him questions,and when i did something wrong he didnt scream at me,but he told me whats right and wrong without hurting my feelings.He also tought me stuff my perents never did.He was the person who was there for me and the one who i trusted.And even thought he past away,he will always be here with me as my grandpa and friend.
"Sap"-no paragraph indents.
ReplyDeleteI can still feel her on me. The phantom movements are still on my lips. The sensation is unexpected. I was unaware of this. For once, I am genuinely content. I was very inexperienced at the time. I'm still reluctant to describe to you what, happened due to how juvenile and overtly romantic it is to see it on paper. But I am adamant. In fact, do you want to know the truth? That it was wholly unromantic. Yes, emotions swelled, but I fear the physical engulfed anything else. That through it all, I enjoyed the softness under my grip, the warmth shared between our lips, our skin, her breat, mine. My appetite was a bit too exuberant. She resisted a few times. I didn't pursue. Out of decency? After it all, lying with her, I must admit, that I felt something like love. Or am I just fooling myself for future reference? So that I wouldn't have to lie to her when she asks, at least not in my mind. So there wouldn't be sweet nothings hanging in the air, to haunt my ears.
"The Mean Bus Driver"
ReplyDeleteThere was once a man named Mr. Ballard that drove my school bus. He was a high school history teacher, but that didn't really mean much to me because I was in elementary school. When I finally did make it to high school, I managed never to get put into his class. No, the only thing I cared about was that Mr. Ballard was really, really mean and completely terrifying. He was skinny, wore glasses, and had huge, dark circles under his eyes, as if he never slept. But the creepiest thing of all was the pointed hair that dipped down over his forehead in what my mother called a "widow's peak". This, along with his gaunt, sunken face and shadowed eyes, combined to make Mr. Ballard look exactly like a vampire. Or at least, how the kids on my street imagined a vampire should look. We could never explain what it was that was so very strange about him, but he was indeed very scary to all of us, from first to twelth grade. His voice was very soft, but he looked so scary that no one, not even the truly awful bullies would dare disobey him.
The kids always talked about how his bus smelled like vomit, and made up the story that he tortured kids in the back when they fell asleep on the bus. He then drained them of blood in true vampire fashion until they were so sick they threw up. I think the real reason the bus smelled that way was the overcrowded hot way it made you sick, and the likelihood that many kindergarteners, who went home at noon, actually did throw up in his bus. Mr. Ballard always kept a broom and dustpan in the very back seat and this seems to have been where the aroma of hurl originated.
He remained my bus driver as long as I went to school, and then, somewhere in 9th grade, I begin to carpool with the obnoxious neighbor boys and never had to see him again. However, I continued to hear all the kids on my street laugh about the real live vampire that drove them to and from school everyday. It wasn't until many years later that I learned that Mr. Ballard had been a survivor of the Baatan Death March. I was curious so I went to the library and read all about it, and suddenly I understood why he seemed so odd. I imagine Mr. Ballard had seen and experienced things that no person should ever have to know. I felt sad and quite ashamed that I had never really understood this exceptionally strong and courageous man. For this reason, I don't think I can ever forget Mr. Ballard and the lesson I learned about the way outward appearances often hide the true nature of the individual. We can never see what lies inside.
"memoir of forgten one"
ReplyDeletemy memoir would be my cousins ,because i basicly went there everday ,we lived in the same place ,we went to the same school ,our parents knew each other preety well and we knew each other since kids.the way i would start my day by getting ready to go to school and i would my house to go to his ,we would stay there for 1 hr until we had to go to school ,we would just basicly eat cercal and watched jerry and just go to school hyped .after a long day at school we would just go to his house and we would eat junk food and drink sodas untill one of us threw up ,while watching cartoons and i would just go home around 10 at night or something ,yeah my parents get mad but i didnt mind because i had a good time.on the fridays ,the starter of the weekend we would just rent movies and get crop load of candy and stock on drinking crop and stay untill the moring,those were good times in my life because it was just free-worry time that i spent as child and when i grow i can be happy knowing i had a good childhood,.
"Soccer Player"
ReplyDeleteI have dream of playing soccer probably since i was born in the hospital. I actually started playing soccer when i was about five years old. I saw the World Cup at first when i was five years old and ever since than i started playing soccer. I remembered when i was sometimes playing in the house and my mother will be mad and tell me to go out side and not break things in the house.
When i eventually joined a soccer team called Westbury i was pretty good with my ball skills. Well i practiced for a long time and i improved incredible on my skills. I was able to score wonderful goals just like Christiano Ronaldo. If you don't Know C. Ronaldo he is the best soccer player in the world right now. Even though i was good at offence i was doing a great job on defence. Defence is the positions i like and play most of the time now.
Well this is just a short memoir of my life and i hope you enjoyed it.
I thought Abigail's was very touching and geuinely heartfelt though it could be more refined. As for mande's that was a bit disurbing, as he is displaying clear eroticism towards an inanimate object. I think that should be checked out. I like Ms. White's twist in her piece, turning an idyllic remembrance into an apologetic tribute to a courageous and scarred man.
ReplyDelete"Bad to the bone"
ReplyDeleteI can still remember growing up and having problems at school from day one. But I always got away with everything. I remember being in kindergarten and hitting a little boy with my backpack or stepping on wet paint after I was told not to. My daily progress papers had red faces stamped on the front and a request for a parent conference the following day. My mom always began to cry when I came home with bad grades but she never punished me to a hard extent due to all the love she had for me. She didn’t understand why I behaved so badly until this day, neither do I understand. I always felt like the teachers were the problem, but now I realize it was actually me. I was very mischievous but my classmates helped a big role in influencing me. In the second grade I was getting my stuff ready to go home from school when I noticed some fake money in a clear box on a cabinet. I wanted a few coins even though I knew it wasn’t the right thing to do. So me and two friends took some money and we didn’t notice my neighbor, roger watching our every move. After he saw what we did, he snitched immediately and we got three days of ISS or in school suspension. As we went to ISS, it was time for lunch and went back to ISS to eat isolated from the rest of the school. As we were eating, my head began to get hot and I began having a huge headache. I got sent to the nurse and had 103 fever. I got sent home immediately. I can’t remember what really happened after that but what I do remember is waking up in my mom’s bed with the spice girls on TV and a soup and pediasure on the drawer. My mom came in and explained that my principal called and said I had in school suspension for three days for stealing. I didn’t reply and neither did she. She decided to leave it like that and miraculously, I stayed home for two more days so I didn’t have ISS when I went back to school. When I was young my mom let things slide all the time...not anymore :)
I really liked "Failure Beauty" by Mande because i was expecting it to be about a girl or something and he was talking about his bike lol, weird but interesting. Also he used good grammer but he had many spelling mistakes lol.
ReplyDeletei also liked mande's because the way he gave his bike personification.
ReplyDeleteAbigail's is really heartfelt.
Raquels memoir i can relate to.
I liked blankie, but it sucks that you haven't found it ever since you put it in te box a while back because i would have felt the same way. P:
ReplyDelete"THE GOOD LIFE"- BY JOSE PORTILLO
ReplyDeleteWhen i was 4 years old, i lived with the most increadible, spontanous family you could ever think of. Our lives were based on surprises that were thought out in seconds, you couldnt even blink with out a new idea appearing. It was a family that couldnt be forgotten by any means because of the indestructable love that flowed throught its veins. A family that couldnt be tarnished by no oil, broken by no force, or seperated by no hands. This is my family.
I lived with all my aunts, uncles, cousins, granparents, brother, sister, and my parents. we lived under one roof that supported throughtout the rough days that bonded our family closer to a strong, loving family. We didnt have the money to support the whole family so we would help one another when ever we needed help. Our parents would go to work early in the morning an come back home until late at night to get us through. Our grandparents would stay home to take care of all my big cousins who were young at the time since our parents were not home. Our grandparents not only took care of our parents, but also help us succeed in our academic and personal lives...and more :D
"Grandpa!
ReplyDelete"I remember when my grandpa Hilario Botello use to sit with me in front of our house in Mexico. We ate mangos, a whole bucket, we will sit there laughing at memories, watching Don Esteban’s cornfield, and always waiting for Don Beltran pass by with his cows to throw mango peels at them. Every summer and winter vacations we use to go to Mexico to visit our relatives. Every day of the week a big blue truck passed by selling fruits and other things, and that’s where we got the mangos. Grandpa and I, use to have a great time, I was his favorite granddaughter since I was the second grandchild and the first granddaughter he had. I always remember my grandpa, about all the wonderful days we passed together. Four years ago my dad and I planned a trip to Mexico knowing that nothing was going to be the same. As soon as I got to my grandparents house I went straight to the front of the house where you can see Don Esteban’s cornfield, and hear Don Beltran’s cows passing by. I saw the two buckets that were always full of mangos, and there was I, with a strange felling, something was missing and as my eyes filled with tears I realize grandpa was never going to share this moment again with me. This time I visited him at his grave, it was really quite, it was only his grave and as I stood there all the moments we shared came to my mind. I miss you grandpa.
cool
ReplyDeleteAuthors might choose to write a memoir because is easier to write. A memoir is a memory an is really pleasent to write about something that you remember or have in mind.
ReplyDeletei hate ya
ReplyDeleteok the reason why aruthors write meomir is that when u dont have the right info about certion things u can sort make it up and wont be sued which something u dont want ,
ReplyDeleteI love playing soccer too Sam, and it was a pretty good short memoir.
ReplyDeleteidont quit like abele's momoir i think he can do better.
ReplyDeleteIf you want to write a biography of someone, everything you write has to be correct and well researched. You can get sued if you write something that is not true. Unlike a memoir, what you write dosent necessarily have to be true.
ReplyDeleteone reason authors write a memoir is to put more meaning to it rather than writing a biography that you put together in the order in which it occured because with a biography your just saying this is it and what it was pretty much rather than putting emhasis on different things that were important or personifying a bike or a blanket thats your bestfriend xD
ReplyDeleteI agree,to what Raqulle says,
ReplyDeleteany one else agree?
i think authors write memoirs more than biographies because if they mess up the biography they could get sued but in a memoir they can say anything.
ReplyDeleteBanned from the Start_ Irving Velasquez
ReplyDeleteIt was a glow in the dark i could not see
a figure that approached me
Who or what was this figure, i do not know
A place for the unknown
Do they think that i will break down?
to show i've lost
Lost down to the floor.
Wake up drowning in my own sweat, to see that everyone is gone
I should have known that figure was me, an outsider, hurt by actions destroyed by results...i was banned from the start
great soccer story sam!!as you know i love soccer too..and i also play defence:)lol
ReplyDeleteBOOM TIME..
ReplyDeleteWhen I was in fifth grade I stared to go to a camp well maybe not a camp, but a summer home called Deerfoot Youth camp where other kids and I go durring summer. Just saying the name brings back memories. its a place where we stay for three weeks and we do nothing but sport activities. From footbal to archery and we have fun, the only catch is that we have to follow three simple rules play hard, respect others and yourself, and last but not least have fun. i still remember a coach named Coach Pat had always said "if you follow the first two rules then you dont have to worry about the third it will be there". Sometimes when we play games like hired gun, or WAR, hoho a game that i loved ultimate killer dodge ball of death man that was fun ill explain UKDBD on a feild theres two sides and both sides has a flickerball goal and one water balloon launcher but we use tennis balls instead, and we have tabels on their sidesad cover and "medics" which are just two people that have a blanket and need to cver a peson down for ten seconds. other than dat its like regular dodge ball but with a scoring point with t=da flicker ball goal. As you know theres always sombody that trys to cheat and for that we have to have a puneshment which where hard and tough. i remember my first year our first punishment was the mail box which was a run from the camp to its mailbox and back and that was a distance of a mile. theres another one wich I loved and hated called the heart break bridge which was a run from our cabins and trough a dirt road in the back behind the pond, what made it hard was that we randomly stoped and do extra stuff like a bear crawl, crab walk i F#*Ken hate them with a passion, push ups ec. and it lastes around sixish till seven thirtyish. but man its worth it. at the end we learn how to work together and be a leader and respectfull not just to others but to ourselfs included. and at the end is what we all campers a looking forward to is the icecream buffet for dinner on our last night and in the moring going back home we have a glas of milk and 2 donuts BOOM TIME.
man antonio thats beast
ReplyDelete