Original Seven Posts:
My name is Taylor
Benson, a boy's name many may say, but my mother and I will argue that it's
beautiful in its own right. I grew up in many places, started out in
I'm not much like the rest of my family, "a person does not look the same
in a mirror as she does." Both of my parents knew what they wanted out of
life very early on, finding each other in junior high and staying together
through marriage. My mom seems to think too much about what others say and
think of our family, most importantly her. And my dad is only worried
about our financial stability; it was harder to get him to spend a dime than
telling my mother that Oprah wasn't exactly quality television. Me on the
other hand, I tend to think too much. My thoughts can get me in
trouble. Most of the time I do just fine, I just tend to over-think
things, making situations seem harsher than they really are. I was just a
little bit different than the rest of the Benson crew. I could sing, play
musical instruments, was extremely smart and fairly athletic, some attributes
my relatives weren't exactly sure where were coming from. My only sibling,
my brother Luke is seven years younger than me; not the one to really talk
to. I have lots of friends, most of them I consider my best, but
throughout my teenage years I began to wonder if anybody really understood who
I was, including myself.
All the moving
around in the beginning kept me from making friends early on in life, but once
we settled in the very cold state of
"You are not different from your fiend, but with your friend you are
different from yourself, and recognizing that, I withdrew, wanting to protect
my honesty, because I had defined integrity on two dimensions." When
I wasn't with my friends I kept to myself mostly, inside my room, complete
"me" time. I actually enjoyed those hours to myself, reading
books, listening to music, writing things. I wrote anything that came to
mind, and in any form. I was very musically talented, could play a little
guitar, but could sing wonderfully. It was late in high school that I
found my place in the school's choir. So I would write lyrics to songs that
I would long to sing out loud, songs of how my parents didn't really understand
that I didn't really care what I did with my life, songs about love, sex, and
everything a young woman yearned to sing about. I never really talked much
about personal issues with anybody really, I wrote them out and thought about
them over and over again to myself, but never really directly talked to anyone
about me. It wasn't until one Saturday afternoon I was outside with Luke
finishing up the yard work my father was too lazy to finish himself, when my
mother found one of my songs. It had been a dark day when I wrote this
particular song, a day where I didn't feel connected to anything in particular,
a song about wanting to let go, indefinitely.
Hospital beds
aren't the must comforting of beds in the world. You see, my parents are
very strict, very conservative. They were both raised a certain way and
were going to raise their own children this same, certain way. This was
probably the biggest story to break from our little "perfect" family
since little Lucas decided he was going to watch Scarface
on TV and announce to his kindergarten class to "say hello to his little
friend!"
A conservative mother that didn't allow anybody to think something was wrong
with her or her family, especially her, didn't exactly know how to deal with a
daughter who wrote a song about possibly contemplating the idea of
suicide. "They don't hear a word of all this, floating like plump
birds along the shore." I wasn't suicidal in any way; it was just that on
that particular day, I wasn't feeling my best and wrote a song about thinking
about it. I wasn't thinking about how I wanted to do it, I was merely
thinking about thinking about it. I don't even like to say the word,
nobody close to me has ever done it, but it still sends chills hearing or
reading about it.
So there I sat, in a hospital bed because according to my mother
"something was wrong with me." I didn't think so at all, what
did my mother know? I wasn't superficial at all like my mother; she
couldn't understand how I was just confused by life in general and really had
no idea or care as to what I was going to do with mine. I didn't want to
end my life, I was just depressed as to the fact I had no answers to the
questions most asked. It was then my father came into the room, and told
me a story I wouldn't soon forget.
After that night,
I felt like me and my father were a lot more connected. You see, during my
little spell in the hospital, he told me a story of his own life that I wasn't
going to forget. It turns out, me and my dad, at least when he was growing
up, aren't all that different from each other. My dad was best friends
with his cousin, he had no brother so this was as close as he could
get. It was day while my father was about thirteen years old that his
cousin had a bad night with drugs and decided to take his own life. My
father said he took life a lot differently directly after that day, and all of
a sudden, in a world where you think nothing really horrible could ever happen
to you, it does. He told me how he had felt the same way I did, not really
caring what was happening in his life, and walked around showing that.
It was then that he told me to be cautious of where I was going, not because of
the fact that I may end up ending my own life, but because I may lose those
people and privileges that actually make up my life. He told me how people
aren't attracted to people who are entirely unattached, be it employers,
friends, or even family. I thought about that statement, and he was right,
it was time for a change in Taylor Benson. "The general form tends to
grow quite naturally under the hand that writes it, but until a thing is
completed, it needs to be explained."
The next day I went into school with a new head of steam. Of course, there
would be rumors as to why I had to skip school, which my mother told me to lie
my ass off about to protect the family name, but I was going to upfront with
people from now on, tell them about what I was feeling, and just be straight
with people in general, especially my good friends. I felt great, a new
"me" was born, a new attitude, and with that, a new life.
High school was
high school, there was drama, not much of it involving me, but we all got
through it. My friends and I were closer than ever after and most of them
decided to go to school together. I declined, being the newly
strong-hearted woman that I was then, I got accepted by
I was studying communications; I really wanted to continue writing. It
wasn't going to be me songs anymore, but as long as I was writing something I
was happy. I didn't go overboard in college. I studied enough to get
by, and made sure I was still living a balanced life by being social and
meeting new friends. It was one day in school, in the winter, when on a
snowy walk to class I met him, Steve Handly. He
was a calm and collective person and sometimes reminded myself of how I used to
handle things. Steve was a smart guy who didn't know exactly where to
apply himself. We went on dates, to the movies, the usual thing, and
started spending lots of time together. When he wasn't joking around to
impress our other guy friends, he was very sweet and had a huge soft spot he
kept covered from everyone else.
One night, when I was studying for an important exam, Steve wanted to come see
me. I let him in, and told him I had to finish studying before I could
really do anything. He said it was alright and that he would simply be
fine by watching me study. I continued with my own business as he tried to
kiss my neck while I was reading, I pushed him of, irritated, and went about my
studying. "When I think of such magnitude as if
seduced I panic compulsively, just as years before I lay on the grass and was
grasped by infinity." Well this made him mad, and the next
thing I knew I was thrown from my chair and my laptop was thrown into my bedroom
wall, shattering everything I had done the entire semester. I tried to get
up but realized my wrist was broken and had a bruise over my left eye, I began
to cry, not believing what Steve had done, and he sunk to the floor, leaning on
my bed, and did the same.
My first year out
of school was not as smooth as it could have been. I decided to graduate
early based on my credits from high school and other reasons regarding personal
issues. Afterwards, I decided to return home for a few months and rest and
regain my wits from three and a half years of hard work. My parents were
supportive; they allowed me to stay at the house while I searched for a
job. I wasn't sure exactly what I wanted to do as long as I was still
writing, it didn't matter to me. There were many small jobs offered my way
but nothing I was extremely interested in, until a letter addressed from
A job writing a weekly column in the New York Post was as close to my dream job
as I could get. The whole family, including Luke, took a weekend off to
move me into my cheap one person, one bedroom apartment in the city. I
took all the belongings I had to my name and brought them to the city, to start
my new life.
The job wasn't a prestigious one really, I had to write
a ton of practice columns to show to the supervisor at the Post, in addition to
my portfolio I assembled over my college years. "One didn't know what
to give a young woman." The column was supposed to be features of
small restaurants around the city that I was going to investigate. I like food, it was quite possibly one of my favorite things to do,
eat. All in all, I was in heaven, on my own in the city.
I went to my first gig, a small soup shop next to a frame shop in So Ho and
found something to order. The waiter brought me a cup of broccoli and
cheese and a slice of French bread to my table, I told him "Thank
You" gave him a smile and Steve Handly smiled
back with a quick "Yup."
The job was going
well, the boss liked my work and I had a newfound passion for Greek
food. Everything seemed to be going this girl's way, until Steve Handly came and turned everything back around. I
really didn't know how to handle the return of Steve, after that night in
college I decided I didn't want a boyfriend until my life had settled back down
for a while. Now that I was settled in my cozy little apartment by myself
in the city, I had just now decided to start dating again. But not in a
million years did I bank on Steve Handly walking back
in to my life again.
That day in the soup shop I agreed, reluctantly, to a date later that evening
with Steve after work. I met him near his apartment at a coffee shop
around eight. "The coffee drinkers answered
ecstatically." We talked for a while, about all kinds of things, and
caught up with each other. We filled in all the time we hadn't seen each
other in, about a year and a half now, and talked about the end of our college
careers. Steve told me how he couldn't finish school at
The conversation finally turned to what happened on that evening. I can
still remember Steve against my bed, crying with me and taking a while to get
to his feet to walk out of my bedroom and out of my life completely. He
asked if I was with anyone, and I replied no, telling him about how he was the
last boyfriend I had. We went out a few more times, him asking about my
love life situation every time, and I never really gave him a straight
answer. The fourth or fifth time we went out Steve finally asked if I
would accept him back into my life.
I thought about it that night for a very long time, and came to the conclusion
that I just couldn't do it. Nobody has caused me to distrust them so much, I just couldn't go through with it. Even if Steve
was a new person, trying to move on and fix his problems, I wasn't ready to
accept him back for what he did to me. I have my own morals in life, and
Steve crossed the line that night, even if it was by accident. I never saw
Steve again.
Christina Gnall’s Continuation:
After seeing Steve
for those few last dates, I couldn't think about being in another relationship
for a very, very long time. Work was going better than I could have imagined, a
few years had gone by and I moved up from a column writer to the head writer
for Breaking News Stories. Although this position was rather stressful, it kept
my mind off of love. Then, out of no where, just like Steve, I found him.
Todd Berry, he was tall, dark eyes, muscular and I couldn't keep my eyes off of
him. He was 22 and started with the same position I started with. I was only
24, not a huge difference, but I kept my distance for awhile because I was too
concerned with my career to let love, or the thought of love, mess anything up.
A few weeks went by, still focused on my work but admiring Todd from a far. One
day I decided it was a good time to go and introduce myself to Todd. It was
around lunch time and I asked Todd if he wanted to get something to eat. We
dined at my favorite Greek restaurant and chatted up about how he liked the new
job and where he went to college. He was from
I found myself
falling harder and harder for Todd, we slowly became friends keeping things
strictly platonic. I did not want work to interfere with a relationship, and
fraternizing was frowned upon in our office. A few months went by, Todd and I
spent a lot of time together which we both convinced ourselves was due to work.
We were both working for higher jobs, so working together to help each other
out seemed like a pretty good idea.
One day, while Todd and I were having lunch at a new little café which just
opened, we ran into Steve Handly. I noticed him
before he noticed me, I also noticed he was with a familiar looking woman; she
looked older, about in her 40's or 50's, dressed in elaborate clothing and a
lot of fancy jewels. I sat there, sipping my soup awaiting the moment, and then
it happened- we made eye contact. I could tell he was a little shocked at
first, maybe because I was with someone, or maybe it was because of who he was
with. I did not expect him to say anything to me, nor did I really want him to.
From across the room he waved, and I politely smiled back. Todd and I continued
our evaluation of the new café, and finished our lunch. Subconsciously I may
have rushed the rest of our lunch, but I couldn't stay in that café any longer,
thankfully we exited before Steve was finished.. but little did I know that wasn't the last I would see of
Steve Handly..
As much as I
wanted to keep things strictly friendly with Todd, I couldn't help but think
what things would be like if we were to be a couple. It had been a long while
since romance was in my life, and I was in need of a little love. It was the
holidays, so on top of breaking news stories I had to keep on top of, Christmas
season was my favorite time of year. I visited my parents a lot during this
time of year, getting the family ready for Christmas. Luke was going to his
senior formal with the same girl he's been dating since he was 13, that made me
rather sick. My little brother, seven years younger and he's already found
love. Her name was Allison and her parents were the richest in our district. I
never really thought about being "alone" during the holidays. After I
watched Luke and Allison leave for the formal, I could tell me parents were in
the chatting mood. They kept bragging and bragging about Luke, and then it
came... "
A new jewelry
store opened and Todd was assigned to write an article, after lunch one day we
took the train and browsed around the new store. When we enter this familiar
looking older women greeted us at the door, I knew I knew her, but I couldn't
figure out from where. As we were browsing the beautiful gems, I couldn't help
but stare at the women at the door. I knew her, but how did I know her? Then
from around the corner, there he was Steve Handly,
He's everywhere!! He didn't notice me, and I quickly turned my back. That's how
I knew her; she was the one at the new Café with him. Of course, I was spotted
but this time he came over to speak to me, I panic a little and grabbed Todd's
hand. This action startled him, but he gave a little smile, it was the first
"move" either of us had made and I could tell he liked it. As Steve
came over I introduced him to Todd and Steve informed us this was his and his
girlfriend Rose Henning's store. Rose Henning, again my head filled with
questions, why did I know that name?? I congratulated him, and we finished
browsing and left the store. Later that night I called my mother to tell her
about my day, when I mention the jewelry store she informed me that it was
Allison's moms knew store. Steve was dating my little brother's girlfriend's
mom. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I was convinced Steve Handly
was sent to make my life hell.
Jake Myers’ Continuation:
The funny thing
about
Of course there
were a whole host of issues that caused me to want to fly this metropolitan
coop. My studio apartment on 36th was, for all intensive purposes, a quintessential
shithole. The walls were crumbling, the fixtures in
the bathroom were green with rust, and there was always this strange, egg-like
smell emitting from room 302. Room 302 was Mr. Snapson's
room, and was located adjacent to my room at the top of the landing. I had only
met Mr. Snapson once, but after he continually asked
severe questions about my perfume, including how may sprays I
put on and the locations on my body where I spray it, I knew that this
was the only time I wanted to meet Mr. Snapson.
As I was packing my belongings, I couldn't help but think about the one person
that made me feel that my collective actions and interactions in the world,
from a simple walk to the corner grocery store, to the narrative project that I
had already spent considerable time on, weren't going unnoticed. If I had
learned anything in
Pennyloafers, by any convention, are perhaps the most
detestable form of footwear a person can own. Not only do they lack any real
fashionable appeal, they also fail to provide the kind of support one can
receive from an affordable pair of Adidas cross-trainers. What was worse, is that Mr. Snapson was
pretentious enough to include a brand new
"You must be an accountant". "I beg your pardon?" I asked.
"You see, an antisocialist looks at their own shoes when they talk to
somebody. But you're looking at mine." "That's very clever, Mr. Snapson. Is there something I can do for you?" I was
already irritated, as my patience for cheesy one liners
had worn at some point during the 5th grade. But at the same time, I was
extremely curious as to why Mr. Snapson would be at
my door. "It's not your fault,
My home town of
"Dad" I asked him during dinner the evening I moved in. "Aunt
Like the twisted branches of the old Elm Trees lining
My Final Chapter
Post:
“The years pass, years in which, I take it, events were not lacking.” I decided never to tell my father that his cousin Jim was still alive. I believe Jim wanted it that way to be honest. I’m not really sure why Jim didn’t want to let my father know about him, but I respected his choice nonetheless. I also never found out why or how my father was even told that his cousin had committed suicide, whether there was a fight in the family, a big move to a different part of the country, or some other tragic moment, I would never know.
I realized then that on that day, in the hospital so many years ago, my life had taken the biggest change of course it ever would. I was an introvert, keeping everything to myself, not sharing my feelings or anything about my life with anyone, not even my closest friends or family. It was when my dad let his guard down, something I had never seen him do, and tell me that story that I had felt the change. It brought the family back together, I would get along better with my dad, who taught me how my mother really wasn’t that bad, only really ever cared for me. Yes, revealing Cousin Jimmy’s secret to dad would probably bring his life full circle and fill a void he’s been living with forever, I thought to myself, I had filled that void. My father had let me be that companion that was lost to him when he was just a little boy. And from then on, my life was complete, I knew how to deal with things now, I had my friends, I had my family, I had my life.
Reflection Post:
During the “My Life” project, I wanted to show a woman transcend through life dealing with feministic tropes and tribulations. I found it kind of difficult to write about a female, because of the obvious fact that I am, of course, a male. In my self-portrait film still I even decided to mask my masculinity by wearing a gender neutral hat and shielding my face with my hood to keep some form of credibility. But until I decided that I could incorporate some aspects of my own life and desires, I was kind of stuck. My character, Taylor Benson, starts off as a woman who tends to keep things to herself, and is a very introverted person. This is somewhat of an exaggerated view of myself, reflecting how I had felt at some points in my life, but the events in my story are greatly embellished. She experienced some ups and some downs, but ultimately ends up in the final chapter happy with the decisions she has made and joyful that the events she went through helped shaped her to be the person she really wanted to be.
The nature of this assignment, being totally written in online message boards, allowed me to be more creative than I may have been otherwise. The technology of an online class creates a sense of safety, that all your sayings are anonymous, even though it is paired with your names. You can’t see your peers in this virtual classroom, only what they say and think. It was interesting to read others’ stories and write about someone else’s character. I felt like I could take their story in a direction that they may not have thought it could go. Likewise, this happened to me, as I had to adapt the ending of my story based on what someone else had thought about the events of my writings.
Although, originally, I thought it would be difficult as a male to write a female’s life. I took into account all the things we’ve learned this year, like the cinematic gaze, and collaboratively shaped a character that ultimately succeeds in her life. She goes through some difficulties like the rest of us do, but achieves her goals just like all of us dream of doing someday. This project allowed me to put down, not on paper, but on the web, some comments, concerns, dreams and goals of mine, through the eyes of a totally different character than myself.
My Life Project Bibliography
All quotes taken from: “My Life” by Lyn Hejinian
Post 1 (12/3): "A person does not look the same in a mirror as she does."-Pg. 45
Post 2 (12/4): “You are not different from your fiend, but with your friend you are different from yourself, and recognizing that, I withdrew, wanting to protect my honesty, because I had defined integrity on two dimensions”-Pg. 42
Post 3 (12/5): “They don’t hear a word of all this, floating like plump birds along the shore.”-Pg. 77
Post 4 (12/6): “The general form tends to grow quite naturally under the hand that writes it, but until a thing is completed, it needs to be explained.”-Pg. 111
Post 5 (12/7): “When I think of such magnitude as if seduced I panic compulsively, just as years before I lay on the grass and was grasped by infinity.”-Pg. 136
Post 6 (12/8): "One didn't know what to give a young woman.”- Pg. 77
Post 7 (12/9): "The coffee drinkers answered ecstatically."-Pg. 74
Response Posts 8-11 (12/10-12/13): “A person does not look the same in a mirror as she does.”-Pg. 45
Post 12 (12/14): “The years pass, years in which, I take it, events were not lacking”- Pg. 96