Assignment#3 Cliches

Alls fair in love and war

Megan Collier

Spetember, 30, 2011

George was alone in the stable when Curley's wife appeared in the doorway. Their eyes locked...
George could not help but think, she is bad to the bone. Although deep down he knew there was no use beating around the bush, she was the bee’s knees. She took a step towards him saying, “I’m bored to tears, if you catch my drift. " George forced himself appear in a manner of business as usual, he was aware her husband was the big cheese. "You caught me off guard," he began, “although I'd love to stay and chew the fat, I'd best be on my way." He had not wanted to give her the cold shoulder. However he also had not wanted to cross the line. "Wait....don't make a fuss, can't we talk?" she asked looking hurt as if he had dealt a fatal blow. For crying out loud George didn't stand a chance. He stared into her eyes and sighed, “I thought you were beautiful from day one." Red flooded into her cheeks and she looked away. Suddenly she exclaimed, "well it took you forever and a day to say, did you have a frog in your throat?" She grinned with a glimmer of hope in her exquisite brown eyes. George could feel a enormous smile stretch across his face as he told her, “believe me, I've been going bananas." Each of them stared in silence, knowing it had been love at first sight. "Well a good man is hard to find," Curley's wife stated, "and Curley isn't that good man." George thought of Curley as the green eyed monster of their love story. "All my life I've had to grin and bear it, but no more. You get Lennie and I'll get Curley's money stash." George’s excitement was now growing; finally he was living his dream. Together George, Lennie and George's wife would live and they would all be happy as clams.

Assignment#9 Moral Dilemma

Megan Collier
174 Columbia St
Victoria, BC
B3S 8G3

March 21, 2011

John Trump
Mayor
Victoria, BC

Dear Sir;


To begin, I would like to express my gratitude for requesting my assistance with this manner.  After reading your letter I began to peruse the idea of putting the elderly man, Gunter Grass in jail. I am fully aware of the crimes this man has committed in the past, although I can not repress the feeling that incarcerating this man would be a mistake.

  Gunter Grass is ninety two. Albeit I am reluctant to construe such thoughts, however the man will surely decease shortly. Even if he is healthy, it will not be long until he becomes feeble and weak. He is a seasoned man. Gunter has three children and many grandchildren, it is my belief that his meager remaining time should be shared with his family. Taking away his little time left would not just be punishing him, but his family would also suffer severely.

  Undoubtedly Gunter has provided the village with a significant chunk of his time. Serving as mayor is not an effortless task. For many years he carried out this laborious duty.  Thirty six years to be more explicit. Additionally, Gunter constructed a factory, where many of the villages inhabitants work. I have also been informed that each employee is paid well.

  Not only is Gunter providing the people of the village with his time, but also his hard earned money. This man's giving never ceases. Many charities have benefited from his wealth. There are several families throughout the village that certainly can not afford all of their expenses. Gunter gives them enough money to settle their bills.

  This man appears to be saint like from every aspect. However I am aware that he has committed numerous wrong doings long ago. While I am not conveying that these were reputable acts, there are reasons to suppose that perhaps he was forced to complete such hideous acts. One is never able to be certain. I would like to assume that the treacherous murders he oversaw, were demanded of him by Hitler himself.

  I presume that this letter was of some assistance, and I bid you good luck with you decision.

Sincerely,


Megan Collier

Assignment #1

Dress Stress

Megan Collier

Sept.11.11

   Chiffon, taffeta or charmeuse?  Three fabrics I have never heard of before. All hanging before me fashioned into long elegant prom dresses. Bateau, cowl or keyhole? The list of necklines never ends. One even titled a "crumb-catcher" extending out in every direction like a peacock.  The associates of these boutiques all stare at me as though I should possess these answers. They can not comprehend the lack of knowledge that I have in this area. I scrutinize every detail of each dress, becoming more drained after everyone. I know that none are "the one".

   My feet have become more cumbersome after each store, now dragging in exhaustion. I need a breather. I yearn to sit somewhere without sequin in sight. I try to fabricate the image of the dress I will wear. I can not do it. I try to distinguish what I despise from what I adore. I begin to build the list.

  It has to be anything but ordinary. It has to exclaim Megan from every angle. It can not be a tea length or high calf, it must brush the floor. I want a dress void of sleeves and heavy beading.

  This dress shopping is not for the faint of heart. My head is brimming with ideas. This task I once dreaded, I now hold some excitement for. I briskly walk down the bustling street. As I see an intriguing store I begin shimmying between the executives hurrying home from a day of work. I freeze speechless; staring at a storefront, knowing the hunt is over. Encased in a glass cage in front of me is an exquisite gown screaming my name.  I can breathe once more, as I gaze at the dress I will wear to my prom.

 The next task...shoes.