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Danni Colello
my blog will show you the mind of a young developing writer.
"There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you." Maya Angelou
my blog will show you the mind of a young developing writer.
This blog post is about my narrative project. Which is about the time I had to make the biggest 911 call of my life. Connecting to the blog post are these three videos from Mr.Manginis English composition class. From the classic film, the Wizard of OZ.Wizard of Oz: If I Only Had The Brain, Heart, Nerve , Wizard of Oz: Meeting the Wizard, Wizard of Oz: You've Always Had the Power. My narrative allows me to travel into my brain because I remember thinking that I had to do something I didn’t know what, but something needed to happen that night. I was completely in fight or flight mode and although flight was my usual go to, I knew I needed to fight that night. Years later I now am able to see how brave and courageous I was as a child which is even more out of left field because I had no friends and was always picked on growing up. How had I had this confidence and strength against a grown man when I couldn’t even stand up for myself to come children on the jungle gym. My narrative allows me to explore my heart from back then because the scene I am composing is from a very emotionally evoking time of my life, I am able to feel the fear and anger and the adrenaline comes rushing back from this night. Now I can depict from it that it was the absolute most pivotal moment in my entire life, and I feel empathy slightly for a man who was supposed to be my father but had so many mental problems and was such an intense addict he couldn’t ever step up to the plate. I also feel resentment looking back toward my mother, she was the adult she was the one who was supposed to protect me. Why at 5 and 7 and 12 years old did I have to protect her. My narrative meets the nerve element by showing you how much pent up abuse had been involved how this was the braking point after years and years. Living and growing up with an addict is very confusing. You joke around with them about something one second and the next you’re a bad person for repeating what they just said. You’re taught to tell people if it’s not safe at home, but you also learn “don’t tell anyone about daddy or you might lose mommy”. Even when You do tell a few teachers in your elementary school about “daddy” nothing ever comes of it and you learn that no one really wants to help, but you also learn to reach out for help if you need it, right. My narrative enables me to re-examine the power I have in my life’s story because at the time I felt so helpless and scared and I was just acting on pure instinct. Authoring the story from my point of view has helped me realize that I truly was in control in that moment. I held the power to end the suffering that I had prayed would end one day. I thought as a child that I always needed someone to come into my life and “save me” but I really held the power all along. I realize I have more control of my life than I think I do at times. We cannot control what happens to us in life; only how we react to it. For this reason, I would say that what shapes us is the “stories” we tell our self, or how we react.
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Danielle Colello
Professor Mangini English Comp. 100 2-7-19 My blog post #4 is about the first time I lost my sense of home by a very controlling important male figure in my life. I am connecting this theme of home, and even deeper theme of losing the essence of “home” to the story, “Hills Like White Elephants.”. In the Story the Girl is being guided and pushed by this strong male role in her life to make a decision, during this decision-making process she loses her sense of direction in that she doesn’t know which of the two paths/ decisions will lead her ‘home”. The white snowflakes gently glided to the ground, I watched in amazement as the sun was slowly making its way down, but the light of this day was still so bright. “Danni!” Hollered my Mother from the front door. “Your hot chocolate is ready!” Instantly I hustled my tiny cold feet inside, waiting for me was a mug of hot chocolate with more white marsh mellows than I could count, and sitting beside it was my green blankey. As I sipped on my sweet hot chocolate and watched dragon tales cuddled up with my blankey I hardly noticed the sun continuing to descend from the sky. Suddenly I couldn’t fight this strong urge to fall asleep right there at the table. I awoke in instant panic as my blankey had disappeared. “Blankey?!” I shouted. I started looking all around me as the dim, remaining light of this day peeking into the kitchen was seeming to hold out a while longer than usual. I looked out the window almost hoping to find my answer in the remaining light the sunset was giving off. The darkness was almost chasing the sun away now. And finally, I see my dad out of the window stumbling his way back to the house from the garbage cans on the side of the road. He has that look on his face where you weren't sure what he would do, but you just knew to stay out of his way. He swings open the front door as I hear muffled swear words. “uh oh.” I thought. “When is this fucking snow going to stop!?” he rhetorically slurred. “Daddy!” I tried to fight back tears. “What?!” “Daddy I can’t, I can’t find my blankey.” As hot tears slowly rolled down my face and my heart dropped to my stomach he responded,” That old dirty fucking rag? That’s gone its time to grow up Danni!” The sun had set at this point, and darkness was touching everything in its grips. I looked out of the window once more and noticed it had stopped snowing completely. “But, but daddy!” “Its time to fucking grow up, now go to bed!” he screamed as he slammed his hand on the table. All I could smell was the putrid wrenching scent of whiskey. As my dad threw back the remaining hot chocolate and marshmallows in my mug, I ran to my room refusing to hold back my tears and emotions at this point, my heart was racing, I was sweating I felt as though my whole world and my safety had been taken from me. As I sat in bed with all of the lights off unable to stop thinking about my blankey, I gazed out of the window one last time as if I would find some answer from the night sky. High above me was the waning crescent moon, I stared for a while as I tried to understand. I didn’t know what had truly happened to my blankey but I knew it was apparently, “Time to fucking grow up.” I laid down on my barbie sheets to try and fall asleep so in turn I could wake up from this bad dream. But I knew the real monster wasn’t going to get me in my dream, I knew the real monster was "home". |
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April 2019
CategoriesAll Identity Narrative Reflection Research Project Writing Process |