Memoirs - Course 4 - Week 2

Revisit the fond memory that you wrote down at the beginning of this lesson. Now, in approximately 400-600 words, I want you to expand on that memory based on all of the things we’ve been discussing. Again, do not worry about beginning, middle, and end. Instead, focus on what details you remember. What the was weather like? What about the way someone said “hello”? Was there any particular color that you recall, even the color gray? Were there any loud sounds, soft sounds, distinctive smells? Did a shadow pass across the room? (For now, don’t censor yourself; include even insignificant details. You can always weed those out later.) And perhaps equally important: what don’t you remember? Unlike filmmakers, writer’s have an easier time in acknowledging holes in the story. Perhaps you remember that a framed painting that hung on the wall of the hospital room—but you don’t remember what the painting actually was. Set a scene for the reader around the memory, using the bits as elements to build the character of who you are in the scene. 

The yellow on the city has always make me close my eyes. All life with just a tiny bit of eyes opened due sun light. The heat of the asphalt is especially harsh when wearing leather sandals. The yellow shirt, blue shorts and brown sandals can not be reflected as a shadow. The shadow reflects my small size and to my right giving hand a tall and skinny form was next to me. The shadow does not reflect the dress, but the strong grip was easily seen on the shadow. Some people call it “grab my hand”. I always seen it as a trap made by the grownups.

The summer on hot zones always smell the same. Those how say heat do not have a smell, have never lived in Monterrey. I would say that it burns a little on the nose but is something just for the cities because the sand or the beach do not have that sensation.

 The shadow of her reflects her long hair, but not the red of it. The yellow surrounding the shadows besides the grey of the floor is something I will never understand, but neither I want to.

Crying and gripping her hand while crossing the road is not a recommended action, but the emotions where triggered. I cannot remember the words, but I think I can recall the message

“Do you want to come next day?”

“No” while crying and screaming. Sobbing and walking. Being sculled because vehicles where nearby and the movement of the avenue won’t be stopped by nobody. Sweat and tears have never been good friends, specially when they mix over a face.

 

 

 

Memoirs - Course 4 - Week 1 - Exercise 2

Year 1995: I was born. it was nice.

Year 1996: I got a birthday party. it was nice. 

Year 1997: I got a brother. i think it was okey. 

Year 1998: I was hugged by my father and let aside by mom. it was sad. 

Year 1999: I start to think and feel and feel in love of a girl. 

Year 2000: I was excited the year was about to end. 

Year 2001: I saw 9 11. it was not nice. 

Year 2002: Mom start to cry a lot. 

Year 2003: Grandma was declining in her health. 

Year 2004: i got my very best friend in live. Hope he is all right. 

Year 2005: Grandma die and Dad went away. Not cool. 

Year 2006: i got my favourite teacher. RIP Roberto Quiroga

Year 2007: I got into jr high

year 2008: I won my first big contest. Computers.

Year 2009: F i fell in love.

Year 2010: Got an scholarship. 

Year 2011: i break a hearth. She then date a friend. bitch. 

Year 2012: I got into university and I hate every second of it. 

Year 2013: I met the love of my life. 

Year 2014: The love of my life and I start dating. 

Year 2015: Real mom die. RIP Granny. Fuck you. you leave me alone. Nobody has loved me like that and you did not love me properly to be honest.

Year 2016: I star to got recognice at university. 

Year 2017: i leave my job as president of student council. I cry.

Year 2018: I got into Accenture. Sounded as a good idea

Year 2019: I travel the world. I met Paris. Great moment

Year 2020: i got my gf pregnant. Great sex. bad idea

Year 2021: i became a father.

Year 2022: I start hating on my wife. 

Year 2023: i bought a house. 

Year 2024: I met real depression and sadness. Wife got sick. Grandpa die. 

Year 2025: I AM BROKE AS HELL! but will finish master degree. 

Memoirs - Course 4 - Week 1

 Go back to that list you made earlier of events from your life. Is there anything that jumps out at you as not quite being enough for a story? Or conversely, is there anything that you hadn’t thought of that could now go on there? Let others weigh in on your list, either in person or in the discussion forums here – or both! Have them take a vote. What is the most interesting topic to people who don’t know you? Yes, this is a story by committee. Now write the first 500 words or so of the one that was voted most-interesting, but I want you to write about yourself in the 3rd-person (so I becomes he or she). In other words, you’re approaching yourself as a character in a story, in the same way as a writer of fiction. In our case, of course, all of the facts remain true. Keep in mind, this doesn’t necessarily have to be a complete story with a beginning, middle, and end, just a cohesive thought or set of thoughts that would lead into the bigger story you could write. Right now, I just want you to ramp up and set the scene, with enough information that the reader will feel part of the event.

The summer was hot. All political madness was just done. The elections had their results, and the months of craziness have stop. There were no more campaigns to come, and life got back into ordinary. The young boy was about to turn 20 years old. The grandmother was about to turn 69. They wake up late that summer. The boy has some money his father sends from USA. “Are you hungry? Do you want to go to the mall and grab a bite?” The boy asked to the old lady. “Yes. It seems like a good idea”. The boy has been watching how the old lady these past months is slower, it does not move like she just to. It takes a lot of her energy to wake up and to stand from bed. What used to be a very hyperactive woman that was always cleaning and trying to fix things of the house now has become an old lady. Afraid as only a son can be. The grandmother and him took a cab to the mall. He did not have a vehicle, his parents where poor and she did not know how to drive properly. She also did not have a vehicle. She was also poor, but something that all Latin American people reply is always the same “we were poor, but we were happy.” The cab took them to the mall and the slow peace was abnormal. The women became elderly sooner than expected. They bought something called gorditas. There is a big franchise northeast of Mexico call “Doña Tota”. The grandchild search for some chairs on the corners. The granny sits down waiting for him to order. He came back and ask her “what you want to eat?” “Some picadillo and desebrada” he replies. “I will order with some rice and beans”. The food court of the mall had few people in there. He went to order and pay. He got back to his grandma to talk to her. It was right there. The precise moment he realizes it. He saw directly on her eyes. The eyes of death. It is not a killing look, but more like I am being killed look. Terrible joke but let’s keep going. There are looks that reveal it all. Gladness, love, sad, depression but looks that show you the future there just a few. The eye patches were bigger than usual, the color of her skin, the loose weight. There was no more sparkle around her. The laughs, the joy. The eyes, the tiredness of her eyes describe everything it was need it to say. The grandchild went to pick up the order from the counter. They eat and she reply, “how nice it is to ask someone to pay”. The following month she got surgery. She stayed in bed for three weeks. She got home. Got worse. Last one day at the house. Got back into hospital. Another week in bed. She died at intensive care unit on September 27.