Starting a blog may seem scary at first but it actually feels like somewhat of a release. It's a place to share your writing, photos and other interests with the world. It's like keeping a journal, just not as personal. Creating a piece of writing that you feel is good enough to share on the internet feels great and it's even better when receiving feedback on it. I had a few reservations about posting to a blog a few months back, mostly just worrying my work wasn't good enough to be shared. After a lot of work and tweaking, confidence was built and it wasn't so hard. Much more thought, detail and time was put into my work and I for once actually enjoyed what I was writing unlike past years in other writing classes. Instead of a very directed instruction, the class and the blog was much more free and independent. My favorite piece of writing from this year would probably be either the creative writing piece where we were free to chose what we want or the story where we were in a different setting and/or time period. While writing the ghost story, the story flowed easily as I wrote and I barely had to think of events, they just came to me. I felt free in my writing to be able to write what I want to. The story could have went on and on and for a while, I thought it was going to keep going from how much detail I put into it and I just didn't want to stop. It's like picking up a good book, one page and you want to keep going, one page turns to seven or eight. Writing a story set in the nineteen twenties was also very interesting. It's fun to place yourself in a different time, do research and create an entire story that would have or could have even happened in the past. Also, the journalism part of the class was very informative. It's important to have journalists around us to keep us updated and see other individual's opinions on certain subjects, it's almost like being inside someone's head. Your opinion is your right as a person and it should always be expressed. I feel that I have grown in my writing throughout the semester just as our plants in September symbolized our growth and hope for the year. I will continue to write in my spare time and possibly even post to this blog again in the future.

Freedom of expression has been questioned around the world for years. Although some freedoms can be limited, the basis is still there and no individual should be able to change that. Recently, in France there has been an uproar after the brutal terrorist attack on the french satirical weekly in Paris. Journalists, editors and cartoonists were targeted in response to the "offensive material" in the magazine. There were twelve people killed along with eleven others injured and wounded. Who has the right to kill someone because they don't agree with their opinion? No one! People are protected and have rights. As Stephane Charbonnier said, "free expression was nothing without the right to offend." It is unfair and unjust for someone's rights and/or life to be taken away due to differing opinions as in this situation. The world, along with myself, have been outraged with this incident but it will just prove to make us stronger. The magazine will continue to print and individuals will continue to express their freedoms.

Family Tradition

Twinkling lights, smell of sugar cookies in the oven and music in the background remind me of Christmas. Every year the smell of pine floods the room and invades our nose as we place ornaments on each small branch. The arm of the tree quietly being weighed down in protest. Each ornament carefully placed to avoid it being too crowded. Hand-made ornaments decorate the tree from the top to the bottom. My mother plays Christmas music as she directs us where to place the ornaments. Joy and love fills my mother's eyes as we dress our tree. Other decorations litter the house, reds and greens are scattered, gold peaks around every corner. The familiar smell of sugar cookies invades my nose. Cookies of all shapes and sizes are spread out on pans, ready to be dressed. Blobs of frosting smother the cookies as we sprinkle candies and goodies. Outside, all is quiet, snow falls slowly to caress the earth. My family and I settle down with our cookies to get in the winter wonderland. This is Christmas.

Editorial

Love Canal in Niagara Falls, New York has been a constant problem for the past thirty five years for the residents of the area. Many lawsuits were filed after residents became extremely ill from the chemicals which were buried in the ground in the seventies. Now, in 2015 more problems are surfacing after the problems were supposedly solved years ago. Dozens of families in the area have been plagued with numerous illnesses, diseases as well as many women have been suffering from miscarriages just as others did decades ago. Homeowners were led to believe that the chemicals were sealed away and the area was safe to live in but as time goes by this proves false. In the seventies when the chemicals in the canal were surfacing as problems, the area had been evacuated, capped and families received compensation therefore people believed they were safe to return although one woman, Lois Gibbs, was completely against the resettling in the area. After a lot of remodeling in the 90's, many of the homes were sold 20 percent below market value and families moved back to the area. During an excavation project in 2011, more harmful chemicals were discovered in the sewers. Many lawsuits were filed after it was known that during the project, the contamination increased as the crew tried to flush chemicals through the streets and storm drains. Many believe, including myself, that the containment system was not an effective fix for the chemicals and it has also been believed that to this day chemicals continue to leak and spread throughout the area. 

Life in Jerry's Point of View

      Tom's tiny head bobbed up and down as his tiny legs ran to get away from me. He turned the corner sharply and the side of my body crashed against the side of the counter with a big thud. He looked back at me, his ears standing up and stuck his tongue out at me. Tom quickly turned and ran for cover under the couch. I laid there, still dazed staring at the ceiling as stars circled my head. "That damn mouse, why does he always do this to me?" I mumbled to myself. I heard the slam of a car door outside and I rushed to the door to greet my mother. She opened the door and quickly rushed past me, not even bothering to pay attention to me. That hurt, my heart was stung by a bee. I retreated back to my blanket in the corner of my couch, licked my paws and drifted away for a nap.

      As my eyes opened and tried to adjust, I felt a slight tug on my tail. It startled me and my claws sunk into the leather couch, mom is going to kill me! Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tom's gray body gripping my tail. Anger flared and rushed through my body as I snapped around to grab him. His small body slipped through my paws and I dashed after him. I am ten times his size and anyone would think that he would be easy to catch but he's sneaky! He's such a pain and such a tease! I wish the stinkin' mouse would just leave me alone! I continued to chase after him, jumping and running into obstacles as he squeezed through small spaces to get away. An idea popped in my head and I stopped dead in my tracks. "You win this time Tom," I whispered as I slinked away.
      "Jerry baby! Mommy's going out, be back later! Be a good boy and keep mommy's house spotless!" she yelled as she slammed the door. It was time for my plan to come alive. I gather various objects such as vases, blankets, balls and books to block the small holes and crevices that Tom would be able to escape into. I left only one hole open for him to exit and I placed dozens of mouse traps in the room sprawled across the floor, he will be unable to leave the walls without stepping on them and he's all mine! I can't wait for this stupid mouse to be taken care of and in my paws, maybe I could get some peace and quiet around here. So I tip toed throughout the house until I reached my couch then once again, plopped down to nap. The house was silent and I dreamed of Tom being gone. My life would be so much better and happier, I can't wait! Not much longer.
      In the other room, Tom walked slowly and cautiously in between all the traps. Suddenly, something tickled my nose and I woke with a loud sneeze and jumped off the couch. My body crashed to the floor and I was caught in dozens of mouse traps, clinging, clipping and catching my fur. One smashed down on my tail and I let out a loud cry, tears streaming down my face. "OW OW OW. MY TAIL!" I shouted in pain. I noticed Tom standing in the corner rolling on the floor laughing with a feather in his hand. I flung myself at him, mouse traps gripping my hairs along my body, my adrenaline pumping so fast that the pain didn't even phase me. I was so infuriated as I chased Tom around the house. My tail flung from side to side, weighed down by the mouse traps. I tried to crawl under the table stand in the living room as I chased Tom under it and I knocked down Mom's favorite antique vase, it crashed to the floor with a loud clatter, sending colored shards across the entire room. I paused for a moment, "oh no, I'm so dead, so dead." I decided to accept defeat, it was just not meant to be, I will never be able to get rid of this mouse. I sighed, slowly walked back to my couch and awaited for mom to get home.

The Nineteen Twenties

A new time has come, 

new machines, new things, new people. 

Flappers with short hair, short skirts and long legs put a cigarette to their lips, 

they swayed their hips to the jazz beats. 

The music had rhythm and made everyone move, 

soulful and powerful unlike anything before. 

The music created movement and a place to feel at home, 

the beats circled and danced, always lit up the room,

flooding passion and strength through all that heard.

The men who had nothing played their songs, 

hoping to belong. 

It was mid summer, the year was 1921. The 19^th amendment was ratified a few years ago and prohibition still knocked on every door. As we all know though, that never stopped anyone. Speakeasies materialized around every corner and hid in every shadow. Margaret and I enjoyed partying, smoking and drinking with the boys. Tonight we’re going to the Cotton Club in Harlem, it’s a big hit now.

                Margaret pulled up in her Model T, her short, curly brown hair being blown back in the wind but somehow still perfectly in place when stopped. I watched her through the window above the sink as I ironed clothes. She stepped out of the car and walked up the driveway to the front door. She wore a fitting black dress that rested above her knee, her heels clicked with every step she took.  A cigarette rested between her fingers and touched her bright red lips. She was sexy, there’s no other way to describe it. All the men wanted her and she flaunted her looks at any chance she could get. Her confidence and bright smile illuminated throughout every room that she walked into. She’s my best friend, I like to think that some of her beauty would rub off on me. “Laura! Where are you my dear?” she yelled as she opened the front door. “In the kitchen!” I yelled back at her. “How do I look?” she said her voice full of excitement as she twirled around. Her hair bobbed and hugged her face as her smile widened. “You look spiffy.” “Now it’s your turn!” Margaret grabbed my arm and we rushed out to her car. She sped away from the curb and lit her cigarette. “Where are we going?” I asked, still in shock that she dragged me out the door so quickly. “To get you dressed of course!”

                We pulled up to her Daddy’s house and again she dragged me by the arm. We walked through the door and she jabbered quickly with her mother and father then took me to her room. I plopped down on the bed. “What’re we doing here? I have perfectly good clothes at home,” I lied through my teeth and she knows it. “I’m going to get you all dolled up and we gon’ have fun!” I sighed in defeat. Margaret pulled piles of clothes out and threw them at me and on the floor. Dozens of colors flew at me. Oh goodness, what did I get myself into. She bounced around her room like a child in a candy store. Next thing I know, I’m standing in the middle of her room in my knickers. “I have the perfect idea for you,” Margaret said as she turned back around to grab a black dress out of her closet then handed it to me. “It’s a good thing we’re the same size,” she winked at me. Again, with a sigh of defeat I put on the dress. It was tight and hugged my smooth figure. The dress was stretched to the middle of my thigh and the ruffles started at my hips to my knees. Margaret handed me a pair of shiny black flats. Then she linked with my arm and sat me down in front of the mirror to style my hair. My blonde hair was short and hugged my face. We decided that there wasn't much to do, it didn't look too bad in the first place. I put on some red lipstick and my transformation was complete. I stood in front of the mirror and was breath taken. My eyes grew wide and I had to catch my breath. “Wow,” was the only thing I could think of saying. My light skin complimented my red lips and my body was long and lean. The dress hugged me in all the right places. Margaret just smiled at me and I decided to finally smile back. “You look great. Now let’s go!” We rushed out the door to the car.

             It only took 30 minutes with the way Margaret drove. It was only 6pm and crowds of people entered the Cotton Club. There were so many different people, men, women, old and young. We parked on the street and immediately people gazed in our direction. As we stepped out, Margaret lit another cigarette and as we walked by men, they whistled at us. I felt my face get hot red and I giggled under my breath. Margaret looked at and winked at me. We walked through the door and the smell of whiskey and cologne punched us in the face. My eyes went wide and Margaret's grin grew. There was so much commotion. Women wore next to nothing and danced up on stage, wiggling their hips and kicking their legs. They sparkled in the dim lights and their shoes dazzled as they whipped around. A group of African American men stood in a group at one end of the stage playing music and tapping their toes. They wore suits while their fingers moved up and down the shaft of their saxophones and produced music that was smooth and soulful. I couldn't help but move my hips to the beat. Margaret grabbed my hand and led me towards the bar where men sat on their stools hootin' and downin' shots of whiskey. Margaret ordered something for us and when she handed it to me, the glass was filled with something that resembled black sludge. We clinked glasses and down it went, I felt like I was swallowing rubber. My body quickly felt warm, my finger tips tingled and my throat burned. I looked at Margaret and let out a soft giggle as I caught her staring at a good looking young man a few stools down. He paid no attention to her, he just kept ordering and sucking down drink after drink. Still, her glance never faltered. I ordered three more glasses of sludge and I could start to feel the effects of the alcohol making my balance fail and my giggles continue. "Don't just keep starin' at him, go talk to 'em," I tried to urge Margaret. "Oh.. I dun know," I could hear the nervousness blend with a slur in her voice. But she applied more lipstick, lit a cigarette and I gave a little push on her tush, over she went. 
           She took the empty seat next to the man and I gave her a thumbs up for reassurance. Then I took another swig from my glass and lit my own cigarette. My head bobbed and my hips swayed slightly to the rhythm of the song. Lights flashed all around and I felt that my head was filling up like a balloon. My mind was cloudy but I felt great. I looked around the room, it was full of laughter and music. The women on stage danced with such power I couldn't help but envy them, I want to be looked at and move like that. I glanced over at Margaret and the man but they were no longer sitting at the bar. I didn't really think much of it other than the fact that I was now alone. My heart fluttered and I felt the alcohol rise up to bubble in my throat. I quickly ran to the bathroom and leaned over the sink, trying to hold back vomit. My head was spinning and my knees shook violently threatening to give way under my weight. I couldn't think straight, I wondered where Margaret went and why she left me. I just wanted to go home. I staggered out the bathroom and out the front door, pushing my way through crowds of people, words being spewed in my direction. 
           It was dark out and streetlights barely lit the roads. The cold air burned my skin and throat. Panic took over and my thoughts raced. I don't know what to do, how am I going to get home? What way do I go to even reach home? Question after question circled my mind. What time is it? Tears began to flow and streak my cheeks. I tripped on the curb and my legs gave up on me, I hit the ground hard. My head bounced up from the concrete and stars circled. It was hard to breath and I could feel myself gasping for air. I couldn't move, couldn't get up and I couldn't find my voice. I laid there helplessly, my head throbbing. I felt warm, my breathing slowed and air became harder to find. Confusion overwhelmed me and darkness consumed me.