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 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.