1/28/12
Theme 2-perspective

The sunlight heats my face through the back of the car window as I lay in the “back car shelf I called it” The space where I now depend on when looking through the rear view mirror.  I remember seeing 

fellow friends in the cockpit of the fighter jet which was the back window. Hands grasping the air with ease as you turned the jet in a complete three-sixty turn.
Welcome to the early ninety’s or at least what I remember of nineteen-ninety to two thousand. Bare hands and the weight of your body pushed down on the metal Tonka trucks and running through the dirt and mud puddles. Scraped knees and holy jeans that were clean and rip free only moments ago. Endless imagination in your world created. The tonka trucks now have blue or red lights. I have become a fire fighter or a police man in a breath or thought. The apple tree out back with the Robin’s nest at the tippy top that I saw everyday. Pretend I was the daddy and bring the babies a worm from the garden.  Everyday was my day.
The word “pretend” was the word for me in this time period. Pretend I am the hero of the made up land, pretend I am the cop, pretend I am the robber, pretend I am the greatest super hero of all. All of it was possible. Not a care or worry. A true child of legend like peter pan who could fly. Fake or real was always the same thing. The grass is as sharp as needles. Every step perfectly placed on the closest rock or leaf even. Just do not let my foot touch the grass, I need to save my friend who was taken far away to the dungeon of fear.
The sunlight heats my face through the front wind shield of the car as I sit wandering how much longer the ride is going to take. No longer aloud in the back car shelf. Its a car on four wheels, its not hovering or flying through the air. Just takes us to the store for milk and groceries.
Welcome to two thousand. The indestructible tonka’s are now plastic and are pushing twenty dollars a piece. The mud puddles and dirt that flew everywhere are replaced by tar roads. The world is out growing imagination. The woods behind the house where I ran for hours chasing the chipmunks or searching for salamanders under rotting logs  is now a housing development or the apartment complex. Is there room for the imagination of the nineties ? Is imagination even needed ?
Instead of being the cop chasing the robber through the woods. I can now be the soldier on the front lines making sure the enemy does not win through a game system. The imagination is all right there for us. So is the couch that I loathe sitting in on the hot summer day when I could be swimming as a crocodile in Africa on the hunt. Instead my nephew is  hunting a dear in animated woods with the same ending on the gorgeous day.
My childhood is a memory held dear. My friends and babies of the ninety’s share similar  memories and even before the ninety’s Im sure. My perspective of my childhood was based on my imagination  and the ability to be outside with no electronics. Welcome to down east Maine of the ninety’s.

1/20/12

                                                                      Third Person
Father was the open book you could just read. His stance said I am old yes, but you would never know it. That first impression was similar to that of a cover of a book. You would never know that old man could move like the breeze hitting the candles flame. Stepping and swinging and dancing his heart out to the music. His movements left that almighty jaw drop of any person in the Saturday night club.

1/21/12
Journal # 3
Last night brought back some fond memories. I say this with a complete smile. The night blasted right into action as if I was running to the finish line of a foot race. Devin, Colby, Brandon, Chris and I were the wolf pack of Harrington before college and life took us our separate ways. We all remained in contact as good friends, but of course life is time consuming. So with out any of us knowing, we all came home this weekend and just like the movies all ended up at our favorite eatery at the same time. We all arrived laughing at the funny moment. None of it was planned but we were never famous for our plans anyway. We sat down to lunch the lot of us and told stories and caught up. It was indeed a memory for the books. After lunch we all moved from house to house of our parents saying hello and explaining the fun story. The phrase today is bar hopping but the wolf pack house hopped all over with laughs and stories. To erase any confusion, to the phrase "hopping" there was never any alcohol involved. Just five friends enjoying each others company. The night ended with all of us watching the series of Porky's. Never seen a bunch laugh so hard. To us porky's was the original American Pie and not saying American Pie was not completely roll on the floor laughing material. The group of us fell asleep on the floor with a few blankets and pillows. This was always the way. What a night it was. I sadly enough had to start work at seven the next morning but the night was memorable. I know there was summer and some vacation time but it was the first time the five were together since high school graduation two years ago. Time seems to fly. I had a few minutes of free time while at work so I figured I could write down the famous unplanned night.

1/20/12
Journal # 2

The day is still young my mother would say to me every morning. She would say " how can you, stand to be inside in bed, when it is such a gorgeous day outside ?" Teenage life states, the shortest answer one can give is "I don't know" and that would be the wrong answer to any mother. Her teeth would grind ever so lightly just to say with out words "GET OUT OF BED ASAP." Its like mother bears little hint that mother bear will soon become ugly bear if you do not move you bum in a timely fashion. So I get up and move about towards the kitchen to sit down and you here the slight grind. It is rather funny because without thinking, your body moves for you to the bathroom were one can brush his teeth. You would think teens and even young adults would learn this by habit but by the force of rebellion, laziness wins. I take that back. Laziness comes close to winning the battle but always ends up losing the battle and the war altogether. With a smirk and kind smile at the same time, mother bear will ask "so how was your first week of college?" Relearning the No short answer policy already this morning was of great help because I gave her all the details in a two minute conversation. She says "well there, was that so hard to use two minutes of your breath to tell me how your week was" said with a smirk this time. "No, not hard but just way to much thinking this early in the morning." She tends to laugh at the cute/smart remarks and continues to eat breakfast. What a morning I must say to myself. I wonder what else the day will bring ?

 1/19/12


 Journal # 1
 I am starting this journal a little late but I will continue for a week from this day or night rather.  I'm not to sure of what to write but shall focus on my day. I woke up this fine morning to  my roommate listening to music off of his computer. I found nothing wrong with this because he was listening to a good song. I proceeded to get dressed to walk over to Maine hall, so I could check the line of the book store to see if it had diminished any from previous times visited. It sadly had not but considering I have a free day today I waited out the line and purchased my books.  It is a late start to say the least but It means the semester is hitting it off full swing. After returning to my dorm I started on yesterdays assigned homework that is due tomorrow. I came to a very swift fact, that I am missing a class. I was so confused. I had to retrace and recall the fact that I dropped a journalism class and picked up this online class. This is my first time taking a class like so. It will take some getting used to but I warm up quickly  so all is good. After the proper realization I got myself some dinner. You know what I like about the journal is after a little writing your day is done but you can still continue writing. Now that there is nothing on your mind telling you what to write. You can just start writing anything your mind comes to think of at the time.  I am off to Mc Donalds with my roommate and I shall continue this journal in due time.

1/19/12    
Autobiography 
                                           First Person

What am I to do ?  What have I done ? I have just signed up for an online class, which is something I
 have never done before. This is week one of autobiography.  Have you ever just sat down and wrote nothing ? My name is Jesse Worcester and in my last English class of last semester, I was told to do so. I forget what this method was called but it was meant to make my fingers do all the work and leave my mind to zero thinking. I remember asking question after question till I finally understood what it was expected out of the class. I typed enough everyday that a couple pages was an easy to do in just a few minutes. I really liked the feeling of just typing. As I grew up, computers were in rise as well technology but my family did not like this new trend. Needless to say my life as a writer has been very bleak and small. I suppose I have just started. Last semester was the kick off for me to start. I read the directions of this course intently and my confusion rises as I ponder what it is I am going to accomplish out of the class. The confusion does rise as does my excitement for what it is I am going to be learning
 in this online class.

                                                           Second person


The sea floats as if vast concrete roads lay just under the surface giving way to the thought of the vastness of great blue depths. You, sometimes wander if you would hold footing as you walked out to the blue valley. Suddenly the mind strays from thought of what the next line should be, could be, will be ? You realize, as you think deeply to yourself "this makes no sense at all" Oh the joy of free writing as you sit writing whatever is you want to write. Thinking of past events along with future thoughts gives proper illustration to high school days where Mrs. Hayden defines the rule of English and writing. College days are the new ball game of yesterday when you did anything you liked from slacking to laughing at the silly jokes of friends you met only moments ago. Realize yet ? You are in college. Welcome to the world of vast blue were you must tread carefully.