Responding to a Piece of Literary Journalism

"A Cancer - Surviving Composer's Extraordinary Movement" by Gustavo Solis tells the incredible story of Anthony Ptak; a well respected jazz musician and music professor at NYU. 2010, was the year everything went wrong for Ptak.  He was unable to play a piece that he once played so easily. At first, he thought he was rusty but no matter how hard he practiced, he still couldn’t get through the piece. Everything felt a bit off for Ptak. Over the course of weeks, Ptak had trouble multitasking, remembering things and ultimately walking. Doctors initially thought Ptak was suffering from a stroke, but then discovered Ptak actually had a brain tumor.  At the hospital, he struggled from keeping the cancer from controlling his brain. By the start of 2011, it had weakened the left side of his body, but they didn’t stop Ptak from pursuing his music. Ptak found out that there was  a piano in the basement, the hospital staff would roll his wheelchair in front of the piano so he could play. Ptak was on steroids, apart for treatment. The drugs strengthened his left hand so he was able to play. November 2011, Ptak’s cancer went into remission. After leaving the cancer ward, Ptak played during open mic nights at a cafe. He was no longer on steroids, but he still performed without  the use of his left arm. Ptak learned to adapt.  

This piece was very inspiring. Though Ptak was diagnosed with brain cancer and lost the ability to use the left side of his body he still continued to play his music. Ptak would sometimes overhear negative comments about his music. He wasn’t able to play as well as he once did without the use of his left arm. However, Ptak adapted to the new sound of his music and embraced the fact that people could hear his struggles within his music. He actually liked that people could hear him struggle through his music because in a way it represented his struggle of fighting against cancer.  The opening lines of this piece grabbed my attention, “Being in the cancer ward felt a bit like being in a jazz ensemble. The doctor controlled the tempo like a drummer, the nurses cheered him up like the trumpets, and the screaming patients sent shivers down his spine like the crashing cymbals.”  I thought it was interesting and quite genius to compare Ptak’s hospital experience to a jazz performance. During his time in the hospital the only thing Ptak wanted to do was play the piano and perform again. Yet, his experience in the cancer ward was similar to a jazz performance. The doctors played the role of the drummer, the nurses cheered Ptak up like trumpets and the screaming patients were a lot like crashing cymbals. 

Gustavo Solis did an amazing job of capturing Ptak’s story. This piece represents determination and courage. Though, Ptak was diagnosed with brain cancer it did not stop him from living out his dreams or stop him from doing what his loved; playing the piano and performing. Ptak will never play the piano the way he once did, but he learned to adapt to only having the ability to use one side of his body. Ptak’s music may sometimes receive negative comments but he continues to play the piano. This should be an inspiration to all. If theres something you love to do, go for it and don’t stop for any challenges that may come your way. 

You can read about Anthony Ptak's amazing story here.
http://narrative.ly/cheating-death/cancer-surviving-composers-extraordinary-movement/

Blog Assignment #4 - "Inherit the Earth: The Things They Carried"

In Demetria Martínez’, “Inherit the Earth: The Things They Carried,”  Martínez challenges the reader to think about the dangers that immigrants faced when crossing into the United States. Unlike others who like to reduce the horror of an immigrant experience to a sentimental story of poor but noble hardworking people who are questing after a better life. Martínez talks about the harsh reality of people risking their lives to cross the border. The way that  Martínez describes the various items that were lost in the desert gives the reader a sense of the struggle people faced while traveling across the border to get to the U.S.  Most items that were found were “Empty plastic water jugs, a backpack, a baby bottle, soap, Colgate toothpaste, a hairbrush, a sardine can, a sock, and used AeroMexico tickets.” Which for the most part are common household items. These people who are traveling the Arizona desert are no different from us. Most of them have children and the goal at hand is to get to the U.S to start a better life. Much similar to how we strive for success so we do whatever it takes. These people that are traveling though the desert are doing whatever it takes. However, it just unfortunate that most people never make it across the desert; only leaving their belonging  behind as an indicator of their identity.  

Desperation was said to be the logic behind immigrants fleeing to America for a better chance at life.  Immigrants longed after jobs and new start for their families. The amount of courage that many immigrants possessed spoke volumes for them to even attempt to travel across the Arizona desert. Hundreds, possibly thousands attempt to travel through two thousand miles of border.  Martínez says, “I can’t help but see out border, la frontera: a militarized zone, a killing field.”  Many immigrants have died trying to make it across the Arizona desert from extreme heat conditions, lack of resources, and no sense of direction. Yolanda Gonzalez is on of the many people who unfortunately did not make it across the border to the U.S. Yolanda Gonzalez scarified her own life, while traveling though the Arizona desert. Yolanda gave her last few drops of water to her daughter Elizama, to ensure her survival. There is more than just desperation at hand when immigrants make the decision to travel to the U.S. Yolanda gave up her own life so that her daughter could live and hopefully have a better life.   

Historical Photograph Assignment

Every weekend Mom would pack us all up in the car and take us on a trip. She never told us where we were going, but that was the adventurous part about it. Sometimes we would end up in a small town country. We’ll go to a local diner eat, talk, and laugh for hours. My older brother John would stick two french fries up his nose and make whale noises. Until, Mom would tell him to quit it cause he was embarrassing her. If we were lucky the diner would have a juke box. Mom always gave me pocket change for the juke box. We’ll sing and dance until the diner closed for the night. 

Then there were other times when Mom would drive just a few blocks away from home. She’ll park the car and we’ll all  get out and just lay in the grass. We would watch day turn into night. Mom would go on and on about the moon and stars. 

When Mom was really seeking adventure we would drive to another state. Thats when we’ll spend days away from home. I would always get homesick quickly because I would miss my pet cat Snowball. Mom never let Snowball come along on our little trips. Snowball never enjoyed car rides anyways. Once we were on our way to take Snowball to the vet and she almost jumped out of the car window. 

Even though were all laughing and smiling in this photo, we often fight like most siblings. 

On the right is my oldest brother John in the passenger side window. He always thought he was the boss growing up. He was twelve years old in this photo. Right next to John is the baby of the family, Katie. She was only two years old at the time. Katie always got her way when it came down to my Mom. Before Katie,  I was the youngest so I know the glory in getting what you want.

In the second window, there goes the twins Robert and Chris. Robert is the one wearing the hat. They were the definition of trouble. They were always up to something from chasing Snowball around the house, throwing pebbles at the neighbor’s kid or stealing cookies out the jar before dinner. 

Thats me in the middle with my head half way out the window. I was only five in this photo. To the left on me is my other brother Tim. Tim was only a year older than me. He’s was the complete opposite of the twins. Tim was the quiet one who preferred to curl up with a book. Tim always witnessed the mayhem that went on but, never took any parts of it. 

In the very back of the car was my grandma Rose. I remember that as being her first time coming along with us on our adventure. So to speak that was also her last time coming along with us. 

Author's note on my Vignette.

When I first started writing my vignette piece I immediately became stuck.  Professor Dragan instructed us to keep it short and simply. He advised us stay away from any topic that was sad or dealt with death. I tend to do my own thing when it comes to writing, so I wrote about death anyways. However, I put a spin on it. Two weeks ago, I found out that one of my old preschool students had passed away. I couldn't believe it. So I decided to write about attending his wake. Throughout, my piece I distract myself from coming to terms with his death by pointing out things that really didn't matter. Like how the sign in book had white pages with blue lines and how there were black folding chairs. Reading my piece it’s clear that I was in denial of his death. Writing this kind of piece in general was hard because of the word limit, choice of topic, what to title it and how to end it.  However I am satisfied with the way I choice to write the story, it captures how I felt in the moment. I called my piece September 19th because that was the day I attended the wake.

Here's a glimpse of my piece.

September 19th

                Upon entering the slightly dimmed room, to my left there was a book that rested on a desk that read at the top "Friends and Family."  I thought to myself where do I actually fall since I was neither. The book had white pages with blue lines; each line had a number next to it. I skimmed through the book briefly searching for familiar names. There were none. I contemplated what to say. Should I talk about how on my very first day as your preschool teacher you pulled my hair? Or that time I tried to make you eat your vegetables during lunch and you screamed out "You're fired Miss. Dominique!" Or the countless times you refused to line up when it was time to leave the park. Or how that one time you told me I was your french-fry made up for all the times you made my job impossible. French fries were your favorite and, at the moment, I was too. I kept it simply number 89 –“With love Miss. Dominique (First Steps Academy) ".

Welcome

When I first started out at LaGuardia I was a psych major. It had to the most miserable time of my life. It took everything in me just to get out of bed in the morning. I had take all these math and science classes, which I was no good at and had no interest in. I probably failed every single math test my professor had given. I was at the point of nearly failing my first semester at LaGuardia. I had thought college was not for me but college was not the problem, it was psychology. I have always been an creative individual that had a passion for writing. So point is, if you have no absolute passion for something just don't do it. If you're not absolute happy then whats the point ? Reason behind why I'm a journalism major.

Well, welcome to my creative non-fticion blog. My name is Dominique. Everything I will be posting is going to be based off of real events with a creative spin. Creative non-fiction is a change from what I usually prefer writing, which are things that are more personal. But I hope you enjoy my postings and be sure to leave your comments.