English 280: The Journalistic Essay


302
December 21, 2007, 1:28 pm
Filed under: Fall 2007
By Lauren Daniels

There are ways around it. I could walk up the back steps to the apartment complex and bypass 302 all together. But there is a fascination I have with this door. It’s a barrier. Keeping its secrets behind two inches of wood and a deadbolt. I glance at the gold numbers perched on the door each time I walk by. I want to know what is behind that door. I’m not expecting answers, or a justification for what Marcus did. It’s a morbid fascination, I know. 302 mocks me. It’s there every day as a standing testament to my curiosity.

Since Monday there has been a long grey electrical chord stretched out from an outlet in the hall and under the door of 302. I have heard the vague sounds of a machine running and pounding on the walls. I picture men working in a far back room, cleaning, remodeling, and painting over crimson discolorations on the carpet and walls. 302 was a roof over Marcus Dory and his family’s head. And soon, it will be the roof over another’s. Rent ads will read “Fully remodeled 2 bedroom apartment. Complete with walk in closets, full kitchen, washing machine, new carpet, freshly painted walls, and smooth caulked over bullet holes.”

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Surrealism
December 21, 2007, 1:25 pm
Filed under: Fall 2007

By Chris Ayala

With a flick, flick, flick his cigarette will ignite. It will exhaust a puff of carbon monoxide into his mouth. His lungs will expand with a familiar burn, and then he will breathe it out. His lips will curl on the ends as he smirks. His body will not crave the nicotine for at least another hour. He stands on the stoop of his apartment in Boston, waiting. For what he does not know, but what he does know is that it is coming soon. His fingers begin to twitch uncontrollably. The nicotine is coursing itself through his veins. Absorption, that’s the process he is most fond of.

His body begins to shiver. The alcoholic that lives next to him begins to talk. He doesn’t hear him. His body is beginning to heat up, but yet he cannot stop being cold. Each second the man who is talking goes unheard. He steps backward as if he was going to turn around and go to sleep. It comes a little sooner then later. He collapses on the ground. There is a swirl of lights in the distance moving closer, and closer, and closer. They vibrate and tear through his entire body. Finally they come to an abrupt halt. This is the beginning of the end. The end of his addiction.

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Puppy Mills
December 21, 2007, 1:20 pm
Filed under: Fall 2007

By Amanda Burke

Walking into Debbie’s Pet Land in Braintree, Mass., you feel as though you are walking into the happiest place on earth. The walls to your right are filled with bright colors and enormous posters of the cutest animals you’ve ever seen. A couple dozen bouncy, energetic puppies line the wall to the left, housed behind clean glass walls and fluorescent colored ID tags: Jack Russell Terrier, Miniature Schnauzer, American Bulldog, and the like.

Joyful Christmas music plays through the loud speaker but you can barely hear it through the squeals and laughter of the children as they frolic through the store, some of them with a puppy or two in tow. Parents do their best to corral their children into the back sitting room to play with the wriggly balls of fur, and perhaps to emerge with a new family companion.

A redheaded employee, who could barely pass for 16, greets you at the entrance wearing a big smile and a crisp blue Debbie’s polo t-shirt. “Welcome to Debbie’s Pet Land,” she says as she hands you a coupon for free obedience classes with the purchase of a puppy.

Welcome to Debbie’s Pet Land, indeed. Welcome to the puppy equivalent of Auschwitz.

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Much More Than a Lingerie Store
December 20, 2007, 5:47 pm
Filed under: Fall 2007

By Ashley Kompass

On June 18, 2007 Victoria’s Secret stores across the country closed early to prepare for the first day of the Victoria’s Secret Semi-Annual Sale. Stores are hectic as over flowing bins full of merchandise are pushed out of the back rooms and employees rush to finish the floor sets. Women wait at 5:59 a.m., the following morning, for the stores to open; each of them anticipating being the first one to find the perfect bra, for the perfect price, in the perfect size. The gates are lifted and the store doors are open at 6:00 a.m., a rush of women swarm every collection room of the retail store with shopping totes courtesy of Victoria’s Secret overflowing with discount merchandise ornamenting their arms. With a team fully staffed, sales associates dressed in elegant black suits and heels are right around the corner to assist, to urge, and to fully inform the clients of their product.

In a store lined with pink walls and white columns, where fine lingerie, sexy sleepwear, beauty products, and perfume cover every wall and floor space, women of every age, color, and size come to find a sexy independence. Since a movement started by Madonna, the “Material Girl”, in the early 80s, which aimed to change the public’s view of woman’s sexuality, woman have suffered and aimed to stay within the frame or image of this. By saying and/or portraying that it is ok to be open about one’s sexuality but only within the certain image of heterosexual beauty, many women live confused, uncertain, and disappointed with themselves and their body.

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Joe
December 20, 2007, 5:39 pm
Filed under: Fall 2007

By Barry Kane

Joe has promised self change after each of his three arrests to no avail.  What was once an occasional habit has quickly transformed into an abundance of money, power, lawyer fee’s and other problems.  It has been five months since his last arrest, and he is back to his old antics with no end in sight.

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Welcome Christmas
December 20, 2007, 5:31 pm
Filed under: Fall 2007

By Michelle Hrycenko

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year” is echoing through the Silver City Galleria Mall on the first Saturday of December.  The Christmas decorations hang from the ceiling as shoppers bustle around the mall in search of the perfect gift for their loved ones.  A group of middle aged women in long coats and scarves hustle by, their arms trimmed with shopping bags, as they discuss their newly purchased items.  The mall is crawling with stress combined with the thrills of the season.  There is that certain something that makes the Christmas season important and special to many.  Whether it be the gathering of family, the gift exchange, or the memories of a child waking up to Christmas morning; that something is what charges the shoppers out to the mall on this first day of December to celebrate the spirit of Christmas.

As Christmas in the year 2007 quickly approaches, one is left to ponder the true meaning of Christmas.  In an age where the commercial industry tells the citizens what to purchase if they want to have a successful Christmas, and bring to their children the joy they once received on Christmas day.  The flyers are sent out with deals of the season, in which we are expected to wake up at 4 am to buy that plasma screen TV, that new Dell laptop, or the latest iPod.  Our society feels the pressures to spend that hard earned dollar in order to make our family happy.

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Quiet On The Set
December 20, 2007, 5:26 pm
Filed under: Fall 2007

By Joe Lafond

Hollywood, California is one of the most iconic places on earth. Even the name “Hollywood” has become an endearing term that carries with it so much. With the bright lights and shining stars of showbuisness, common people escape to a place within themselves and around them that is far away. As is with star gazing, rarely do the furthest onlookers come so close to a world so foreign.

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Let The Mother Burn
December 20, 2007, 5:20 pm
Filed under: Fall 2007

By N.D. Murphy

The past several years have been tough for companies like Warner Brothers Records, Atlantic Records, and Columbia Records. With the advent of home recording, a “Do it yourself” mentality, and with most Americans denying the thought to spend close to twenty dollars on CDs, a once profitable business is in flames.

Newbury Comics is considered one of the best places to get a wide variety of new and used music. Over the last few years, however, their numbers have dwindled.

“I remember coming in here as a kid” store employee John recalls, “ it was usually very busy, specially on Tuesdays.”

Tuesdays is new release day in the music industry; most to all of albums, EP,s singles, an re-issues come out on Tuesdays. Now, John mentions how things have changed.

“That was ten years ago though, kids aren’t so interested in buying music anymore I suppose. Not full albums or actually CD’s anyway” John says while pricing a mountain of CD’s. John isn’t that old, around twenty eight, but he talks of ten years ago like it was the Hay Day of music. Maybe it was.

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Connie
December 20, 2007, 4:48 pm
Filed under: Fall 2007

By Shannon Dolan

Connie received a letter in the mail, which stated her court date would be held on July 10th. She was being charged for driving with a suspended license and possession of a Class D drug with intent to sell. Upset and frustrated she realized she would have to make special arrangements to get the day off from work. This meant she would have to explain the incident to her boss, which she hoped she would keep confidential as she was very embarrassed about the matter.

Connie isn’t the first, nor will she be the last young person in America to be tried for this type of charge. According to the National Institute on Drug Abuse, the average age of first drug use is 13, and almost 2/3 of all American young people try illicit drugs before they finish high school. One out of sixteen seniors smokes marijuana daily and 20% have done so for at least a month sometime in their lives.

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A Unique Look At The Life Of A Veteran
December 20, 2007, 4:44 pm
Filed under: Fall 2007

By Kelly Porter

I hid behind the micro fiber couch, waiting for Bruce to get out of the shower to surprise him with my visit. It was a few months before my boyfriend and I moved in together, and I knew he was having a rough day so I wanted to cheer him up. When I heard the bathroom door open, I straightened up so the upper half of my body was visible. Seeing a reflection through the mirror that wasn’t previously there when he first opened the door sent Bruce into a screaming fit. He began running nervously around his kitchen in circles, yelling in complete fear. Shaking, I quickly got up behind the couch and rushed to the kitchen to comfort him. Only to find Bruce tucked in a medium sized space, hiding behind the refrigerator.

Sergeant Bruce Hunt was deployed to Iraq for the first and second tours; he left straight from his army station in Germany. It wasn’t until spring 2006 when Bruce and I met at Bridgewater State College, and we instantly became close friends. Both of us have the same friends and even those people who met him for the first time noticed the Army vibe he gave off. Currently on inactive duty until 2010, Bruce knows that any day he could receive a phone call or a letter sending him back to Iraq. When we began dating, he hardly talked about his experiences in Iraq, there were only a few times he would even mention something. However, once we moved in together, I noticed a lot of habits created from serving in Iraq.

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Dying To Live
December 20, 2007, 12:23 pm
Filed under: Fall 2007

By Brittany Benson

Everything about Dyanne Benson appeared perfect. Her personal appearance rivaled that of a Martha Stewart Living model. The house—kept spotless; her marriage even appeared still in the stage of honeymoon bliss. All was perfect on the Benson home front. Unless you were the little girl hiding in your parent’s closet listening to your mother cry into her pillow cursing how unhappy she was. Not unless you happened to notice the hole in the door from her slamming it so hard in the heat of an argument.

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A Night in the Underworld of Greater Providence
December 14, 2007, 9:38 pm
Filed under: Fall 2007

By Jim Hatch

The day was winding down as the sun diminished into the horizon. It was about quarter past 8 when the small car- a grayish blue Honda of the early ‘90s – pulled into the parking lot of the large white housing complex on Potter Street. Stepping over a pot hole in the cracking pavement, I took a deep breath to calm my nerves as I opened the rear driver side door to the backseat. Sitting down, I am first greeted by an old friend, Dan. After his initial salutations, he then introduces me to his passengers.

Chanel is in the front seat. She is wearing a dark green top that has no sleeves and is low cut, revealing the dark tone of her brown skin; meanwhile her miniature blue jean skirt that reaches halfway to her knees to show off the curves of her backside which she considers to be her best feature. I look behind her to the other side of the backseat bench as a black object flies into my lap. It’s a condom, a Trojan “Magnum”, a gift from a far less attractive blonde woman.

The smell of her joint is faintly present. She allows the smoke to rise to the slightly open window before passing it to Chanel. A light sweatshirt colored gray, and beige Capri pants cover her aging body visible by the wrinkled skin and scars on her face. She is not as old as she looks but her personality is that of a crocodile with a sore tooth as her cynicism, complaints, and poor outlook proves to be more than enough to irritate all in her presence. This was one particular August night I will not soon forget. Into my memory has been branded the law-breaking adventures I had with an old companion and two Rhode Island prostitutes.

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French writer’s game
December 13, 2007, 1:27 pm
Filed under: Fall 2007

Our final writing prompt for the semester went something like this: The first student wrote three lines on a sheet a notebook paper. She folded the paper down so only the last line was visible, then passed it onto the next student. That student wrote three lines playing off of the visible line, folded it down so only her last line was visible, and then passed it on to the next student, repeating the process until everyon had had a chance to write. This is what we had come up with by the end of the class (the visible line is in italics):

of50321442.jpegOn the verge of jumping into the choppy ocean we in academia call “the real world,” I’m afraid I’ll jump clinging to my pen, my paper, my voice.

These are my instruments of communication. These are what I use to reach the masses.

Ah, yes, the masses. These crowds of people, many holding signs, most chanting in support or to picket. Whatever their opinion, if they step out of line, they will be tasered.

People are being tasered everyday on the news. They are protesting things that they believe in. Even if they know they are going to lose.

Losing happens but, hey, it’s cool. People that never lose and are given everything never gain the ability to learn, build character and improve themselves.

These are the opportunities presented to you at college. In the past, school represented knowledge and leading a richer life, but now it seems to have developed into just getting that piece of paper.

One small piece of paper that means so much. Four long, hard years have passed working for this achievement.

Finally, after years of “No’s” and unreturned phone calls she got the big break she was waiting for. There was no stopping her now until the unthinkable happened.

She toiled over her efforts daily, working closer and closer to the promised land. Stepping over everyone and anything she loved, she was going to get what was coming her way.

Her life was already over before it began. She was left with nothing an no matter how hard she tried her heart was left empty and she was useless.

And then she died, and everyone lived happily ever after.

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