I have taken several English classes in my college career, considering I am a writing minor. I took creative writing the beginning of my sophomore year and it was literally the worst thing ever. All poetry. If you know me, I am not a deep person whatsoever. The worst part? We had to read our stuff in front of the whole class and they had to critique it. I would always just write some crap down and the let everyone else in the class come up with the deeper meaning that didn’t even know was there.
“This poem obviously represents the American economic downfall and also rape,” said little hipster Freddy. I would usually nod my head and go with it because I actually thought I was just writing about cookies or something. I mean for God sake on the first day of class the teacher asked what our favorite book was and do you know what I said? Twilight. Somehow I BSed my way to an A.
OH ANOTHER THING: did you know that poetry doesn’t have to rhyme anymore?
Can just make
Sentences with really
Spacing and you
-a poem by Carolyn Carter
I made one of my poems rhyme once just to be an ass and everyone in the class thought it was hilarious. IT WASN’T EVEN FUNNY. I didn’t realize that rhyming was like a new thing? Have they hear of Dr. Suess? He was a freaking genius:
“Now, the Star-Belly Sneetches
Had bellies with stars.
The Plain-Belly Sneetches
Had none upon thars.”
LIKE ARE YOU KIDDING HOW IS THAT NOT THE MOST BEAUTIFUL THING YOU HAVE EVER HEARD? IT RHYMES AND THE WHOLE POEM HAS A DEEPER MEANING. I think people stopped making poems rhyme because they are lazy and stupid.
I took a creative non- fiction class last semester. It was the FUNNEST CLASS EVERRRRRRR. I really enjoyed just telling stories about my life and making them entertaining. It was another class where we read each other’s work and critiqued it. Every single person (literally everyone) in that class wrote about horrible tragedies and death and they all made me really depressed. So I decided to be an ass again and write about horrible pet tragedies because nobody is going to remember a story about best friends falling apart BUT they will remember a story about my grandma killing a hamster (and a whole array of other true stories)! Not to toot my own horn here, but it was the best thing I have ever written. Now it is long I must warn you, maybe 6 or so pages (you’re seriously the laziest person ever if you can’t read SIX PAGES) but I will attach it into the blog if you enjoy REAL writing and stupid dumb poetry.
essay 1 (<– hey there it is!)