When I heard that I would be using Twitter in this class, I was less than thrilled.  I've used it in other classes and while I do find it helpful to keep up on assignments and ask questions, the idea of using it to tweet about my surroundings intimidated me.  I'm not one that likes to broadcast my business on the Internet.  Even on Facebook I prefer to use the more personal message feature and Facebook chat, where my conversations can be more private.  This apprehension about people reading my personal thoughts and ideas probably hindered my ability to "connect" with my "place" for the Twitterive.  I would have preferred taking personal notes about my surroundings rather than post them on Twitter.  Perhaps then my observations would have been more meaningful and less inhibited.  
   Weebly, however, I do enjoy using in this class.  It allows the class to interact more than in a typical college classroom.  Everyone has their own voice and can post and comment on others' posts as well.  It's nice to get new and different perspectives on any piece we may be instructed to blog about.  Through reading and commenting on my classmates' blogs I feel like I am better connected to the class as a whole.  I also believe Twitter is a good way to connect with the class.  With the simple addition of a hashtag everything related to our class can be put in one convenient area.  It's simple if you miss a class to get quick feedback from anyone in the class.  
     My "online identity" differs greatly from my "real identity."  My blog posts on Weebly are more of a reflection of my "class identity" than my real one.  The language I use on here is strictly academic.  The way I talk on here is in no way the way I speak to my friends outside of class.  However, my Twitterive is much closer to my "real identity."  My Twitterive is somewhat personal and really shows some of my true feelings and emotions.  I was actually surprised at how much of myself I was willing to share in my Twitterive.  But despite the personal information that I share, I still believe that my "real identity" is completely different from anything I post for class assignments.  The quiet, reserved self that I present in class is in no way a true reflection of my real self.  I believe that my "real identity" can only be seen around close friends and family.      

1. Is my disconnection to my place clear enough?
2. Is my prologue too long?
3. Does each genre transition well?
4. Do you have any suggestions of some more genres I could use?
5. Is my ending relevant and effective?

    Coming up at 3:45, we’ll take you to Room 2108 in Education Hall at Rowan University for the much anticipated matchup between Lil Firecracka and Latina Heat.  Latina Heat, the current arm wrestling champion, has quite a record with 135 wins and just 2 losses.  She seems to be recovering well from the injury to her hand from the infamous fight against Black Spider, and is looking stronger than ever. Don’t count out the underdog though.  Lil Firecracker, with a record of 250 wins and 6 losses has proven herself to be a fierce competitor and could be well on her way to a big victory.  Despite her battle with Carpel Tunnel, she’s had a very impressive year.  Of course, there is a lot on the line here.  The winner will walk away with the title of Heavy Weight Arm Wrestling Champion.  Stay tuned for the battle of the century, coming up next.

    Discussing my Twitterive with some peers proved to be a productive experience.  Through a suggestion from a classmate, my ideas ended up going in a slightly different direction than I originally planned.  As of right now, the characters in my Twitterive include me, my best friend, Sarah, and possibly my family.  While I feel a connection to Rowan, I feel a disconnect to my home.  Sarah's connection to the piece is my best friend, and someone that reminds me of home, as I have grown up with her since fourth grade.  This story takes place in present- day, with possible flashbacks to previous times in my life.  The story will take place all around campus at Rowan.  This story takes place because it is what I'm feeling right now.  While enjoying life on campus I go to Sarah for comfort and for the reminder of home, which I often miss.  The story will take place through a narrative and through pictures.  My project is still in the early stages, so the direction of the piece may continue to transform and become more focused. 

    I am finding blogging to be a very helpful tool for reflecting on readings for class.  It's a bit of an informal way to get my own thoughts out there, while forcing me to really think about the readings.  I also like that with a blog I am able to get immediate feedback from the professor and other people in the class, and to see what others took from each piece.  I like the interactive aspect of that genre.  
    I really enjoyed composing the microfiction piece based off of a line from Anzaldua's piece.  As a read the Anzaldua piece there were several lines that jumped out to me that I thought I could potentially use to create my own story.  Eventually I was able to narrow it down to a very dynamic quote that could go in many directions.  The quote I used was "For the longest time I couldn't figure it out, then it dawned on me."  Interestingly, I went in a completely different direction from the way Anzaldua intended the line.  It's interesting that one line can be taken out of context and applied to a completely different situation.
    I never thought of applying twitter to so many different writing situations.  The task of composing a microfiction story based on one of my tweets was interesting.  Tweets have such a limited word count, it was interesting to see how I was able to expand it into a short story.  Then composing a poem from a collection of my tweets proved to be a bit of a struggle.  I already struggle with poetry as a writer, so the restriction of only being able to use a specific collection of words made it that much harder.  I found myself wishing I had gone into more detail with some of my tweets, or used a different word to describe something.   
    The use of twitter was taken a step further as I created a haiku poem from my microfiction story based on a tweet.  From this assignment I was able to see how a different genre can change the tone of a story.  While my poem had the same theme as the microfiction, it took on a more serious tone.  The poem also focused in on just one aspect of the story.     

The found poem below was composed from a series of my own tweets.

I miss home
I pray for a snow day
To be with my family by the fire
Instead I’m in the cold library
Eating a cold pretzel and drinking starbucks
With little motivation and so much work
You never know what is enough until you know what is more than enough
Well I’ve had just about enough of winter

The tweets used to compose this poem are below:

home for the day watching some football by the fire with the family #twitterive
just waited 20 minutes for a cold pretzel and a drink at the starbucks at the new bookstore. ridiculous #twitterive
So much work to do, so little motivation. Praying for a snow day! #twitterive
ice cream during a snowstorm? sure makes perfect sense #twitterive
probably shouldn't have waited until the night before to write this paper. and why do they keep it so cold in the library?! #twitterive
making rainbow cupcakes! finished product to come #twitterive
didn't come out quite right but it still looks cool #twitterive
"You never know what is enough until you know what is more than enough." #twitterive
i miss this little boy <3 #twitterive http://twitpic.com/3y6l1s
more snow?! ugh i've had just about enough of winter. #twitterive

The following is a haiku poem based off of the microfiction I composed from a tweet.

Cold winds pierce my face
as I trek through snow and ice
to escape the noise

The following is a microfiction story based on a tweet of mine:
"probably shouldn't have waited until the night before to write this paper. and why do they keep it so cold in the library?!"

            After a long day of classes I finally plop down on the couch ready for a night of TV and food.  Halfway through a rousing episode of Jersey Shore (guilty pleasure) it dawns on me that I have a five page paper due tomorrow.  It comes as no surprise to me that it is now the night before the due date and I have not a single word on paper.  But now it was time to get serious.  I turn on my laptop, instinctively hop on Facebook for a few minutes, and open Microsoft Word.  I managed to type my name and date on the top of the paper and then found myself staring at the blank page unable to focus on anything but the voices of my three very loud roommates yacking and the television blaring from the other room.  After spending twenty minutes alternating between Facebook and attempting to block out all of the background noise, I managed to get two crappy sentences down on the page.  I quickly realize that I have to get out of here. 
      I make the long trek through campus, walking on poorly plowed sidewalks covered with patches of ice and snow, as the wind whips my hair and stings my face.  Finally I arrive at the library, with frazzled hair and dried out watering eyes ready to get down to business.  I sit down at a cubicle, turn on my laptop, open the word document, check Facebook one last time, then get to work.  The library is eerily quiet the second week of the semester.  After ten minutes I realize that my fingers have not thawed out from the cold, and I had to put my jacket back on.  “Are they trying to freeze me out of the library?! “ I thought.  I struggled for the next two hours through the silence and freezing cold to finish the assignment. 
     The next day I show up to class miserable and exhausted, only to find out the due date had been pushed back a week.

The following is a microfiction story inspired by Gloria Anzaldua's "How to Tame a Wild Tongue."  The particular line I drew from the piece was, "For the longest time I couldn't figure it out, then it dawned on me."

"Dude, do you smell that?"
"Smell what? I don't smell anything."
"Are you serious right now?"
    How could he not smell it? I searched the entire dorm after he left for class.  It was such a strong, foul odor that I was surprised it hadn’t transformed into a visible green smog that I’d be able to follow right back to the source.  It was a sort of bitter, salty smell that filled every corner of the room.  I felt like I was in the middle of the ocean or something.  I tried breathing through my mouth, covering my face, anything to escape the oppressive smell.  I couldn’t breathe.  I couldn’t even think.  My eyes watered as I struggled to hold down my lunch.  I had to get out.  
    As I took a walk around campus with the fishy smell still lingering in my nose, hoping that the stench had not clung to my clothes, I wondered,  how could he possibly not smell that disgusting, vomit-inducing odor?!   He was probably still pissed that I made out with his girlfriend last weekend.  But come on man, we were drunk, chill out. 
    I looked everywhere: the mini-fridge, the trash, the laundry.  I heard him take a shower that morning, so it couldn’t have been coming directly from him.  For the longest time I couldn’t figure it out, and then it dawned on me.  He had hidden a dead fish in my closet.  

            

    I really enjoyed reading each of the short stories in Micro Fiction.  My favorite was probably "Wrong Channel" which was about a woman trying to obtain a green card who goes to the doctor and things get mistranslated.  She ends up thinking that she needs to get a TV in order to get a green card, rather than a TB test.   I do feel some frustration for the woman, as I can't imagine what it's like to be in a place where people do not speak my language.  But I found it to be quite humorous how she truly believes that to live in America she needs a television.  It just goes to show what kind of society we live in.  I also found the short story "Waiting" to be an interesting and very different read.  The entire story was one long run-on sentence.  It felt almost as though I was inside her head reading her train of thought.  All of the short stories included in this were very descriptive and full of imagery.  
    Billy the Kid, on the other hand, was a much more difficult read.  I was a bit unclear of what exactly was going on, but at the same time there was so much description and imagery that i was able to picture much of what the author was saying.  The author used a lot of description about colors, and light and dark, perhaps to symbolize the feelings of the characters.