| 
  • If you are citizen of an European Union member nation, you may not use this service unless you are at least 16 years old.

  • You already know Dokkio is an AI-powered assistant to organize & manage your digital files & messages. Very soon, Dokkio will support Outlook as well as One Drive. Check it out today!

View
 

Jenna Gravino's Page

Page history last edited by jlgravin 2 years, 6 months ago

 

Name: Jenna Gravino

 


 

 

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

I found this in Backslash magazine and I like it:

 

"To live unrestrained is to live with the realization that your potential is unlimited - that every obstacle, barrier, and problem preventing you from reaching your full potential (every single restraint) can be overcome through creativity. To back\slash, creativity is life; we define it as the process through which we realize our potential and help to actualize the potential of others. We believe that creativity is an unlimited abstract substance possessed by everyone, and that by employing creativity without restraint we can all enable our potential to flow freely into reality. But restraints (such as assumptions of impossibilities and presumptions in general) often inhibit us from reaching the point where anything is possible. The key is removing those restraints from our mentalities - so that we may finally think outside of the box. Inside the box the world is flat and machines can't fly. But outside the box, anything is possible. Living Unrestrained does not mean ignoring restraints, but rather, recognizing and conquering them... while maintaining a focus on actualizing limitless potential, creating a pathway for your potential to be realized. Now is the time for us all to focus on our potential, not our limitations. That is what it means to live unrestrained."

 

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

Losing Your Mind Can Be Funny

 

I was perusing Trina's Unit One Portfolio page in search of which of her pieces I was going to edit/remix and I just had to stop and share one of my own experiences relating to caring for a loved one with Alzheimer's.

 

A few short years after my mother's mother passed away at age 77 from emphysema , my mother's father's health slowly began to deteriorate as well. He was living alone in a three bedroom home in Kansas. At this point, he was still able to carry on most normal daily activities for a man of 80 (grocery shopping, coffee with the neighbors), and my mother didn't see much reason to be concerned. After all, we did visit often, and they talked on the phone most days. Well, one weekend when my mother, sister, and I were out of town, we asked Grandpa to come stay at our house to babysit our dog, Buster.  Buster did need babysitting, and Grandpa needed something to do. The day we were to return my mother got a call from the police department saying that they had found Grandpa driving around Raymore (where I used to live in Missouri) in his maroon Crown Victoria with Buster in the back seat. Grandpa couldn't quite remember the way back to our house. The police escorted him home safely. When we returned, we asked if everything was okay, and it seemed to be, so Grandpa drove home to his side of the state line. A few hours later as my sister and I were rummaging through the fridge for anything to eat after our weekend away, I saw something just a little out of place. Grandpa had put the peanut butter in the freezer. At no point in my 9 year old life had I ever known the peanut butter to go in the freezer. My sister and I laughed, and brought the frozen peanut butter immediately to my mom's attention.

 

Although I didn't know it then, it was the beginning of my grandfather's struggle with Alzheimer's. I can only recall what I know of my experience with Grandpa and Alzheimer's through the eyes of my 9 year old self. Looking back I realize that it must have been a very tough struggle for my mom, deciding whether or not to put him in a home (which she desperately did not want to do, and ultimately decided against), dealing with the constant worry of whether or not Grandpa was of sound mind, and of course dealing with what would eventually be the loss of her last parent. Peanut butter in the freezer was funny, but the time when Grandpa was cleaning out his gun and accidentally shot a hole through the wall above his bed was not. Of course these were things I found out later on. I learned that the gun shot in the wall was covered by a framed photo until Grandpa finally had to move to our house.

 

That's right, Grandpa moved into our house, specifically into my sister's room, which meant my sister had to move into mine. I was not happy about it. This was at the peak of our fighting days, when we would scream at each other, punch each other, exclude each other when playing games. We were downright mean sisters. One time she even shut my hand in her bedroom door. (Okay, yes I was chasing her through the house, probably screaming all kinds of threats, and it was her only refuge), but I have the scar to prove it. We understood (as best a 7 and 9 year old can) why we had to share a room, and why Grandpa was at our house. My sister and I got used to each other and we started following Grandpa around, watching him brush his teeth in our bathroom, and talking to him while he sat in the big gold corduroy chair in our living room. It was actually kind of fun staying in the same room as my sister. In fact, we didn't fight anymore. We spent more time trying to convince Grandpa that it was in fact 1997, and not 1937. We tried to tell him that no, he was not on his honeymoon, because Grandma had passed away five years before. Still, he was sure she was there. And they were on their honeymoon. Our house, well it was a hotel, of course.

 

"No, Grandpa, this is not a hotel. It's your daughter Jan's house!" we would say.

 

Except one morning, my mom would proceed to ruin all the hard work my sister and I had put into straightening out Grandpa's head about where he was and what he was doing there. One morning my sister and I came downstairs, and my mom was making breakfast for us all. When Grandpa was finished getting dressed and brushing his teeth he began down the stairs to the kitchen. My mom, spatula of scrambled eggs in hand, said this:

 

"Welcome to the Gravino Hotel! Breakfast is served!"

 

Immediately my sister and I start whining, "Moooooooom!!"

 

That is what I remember of those last few months with Grandpa in our house. Of course I do remember getting on the school bus one morning, and passing an ambulance, which was headed in the direction we had just come from, on the day that Grandpa had to be hospitalized when he broke his hip after falling out of bed. But mostly I remember the little things, the silly things. The things a 9 year old thinks are funny, like how big and hairy Grandpa's ears were.

 

And beyond all that, now I realize that my sister is my best friend, and maybe she wouldn't be if we didn't have to learn to live together when Grandpa moved in (we frequently refer to this as a pivotal point in our relationship as sisters). And what tremendous strength and patience my mother had to be able to take care of her father, even on the worst days, until the very end.Who are you (Jenna Gravino)

 

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

We're Not Supposed to Live This Long

 

On Friday, an older woman (I'm guessing late 70's) tripped trying to step up the two brick stairs that lead to the exit of the restaurant where I work. I didn't see her actually fall, but the whole place went silent, even the band stopped playing, when everybody realized what had happened. The woman wasn't getting up, and nobody knew exactly how bad it was. Someone called 911 and the paramedics showed up shortly after that. I was standing to the side watching them put a neck brace on the woman as they kept her ankles from moving by tying them together somehow (I'm assuming they didn't want her to move in case something was broken).

 

I wondered how the woman felt. There she was, lying on the ground, surrounded by a crowd of people, all because she tripped on a stair. If I had tripped on that stair, I would have been a little embarrassed maybe, but I surely would have been able to get up and go on with my life without too much damage. I guess it's different when you're older. I can't help but wonder if she was really even concerned about her health. I wonder if she felt helpless, frustrated, or angry knowing that her body was beginning to fail her. I wonder if it was the first time something like this had happened.

 

I don't think we're supposed to live this long...

 

 

Killer

 

We returned to my Grandmother's house on 86th Terrace late in the afternoon. The inside of her house was stacked top to bottom with cheap picture frames decorated with ribbon, lace, silver, and gold. We never ate at the small round dining room table. It was filled with photos of my sister and me when we were little, my cousins, and really old photos of my grandfather in his army uniform. If you walked down the only hallway in her house, you would see walls covered with picture frames of even older photos- wedding photos, and photos of all my grandparent's kids at the farm- all that milky yellow tone, not quite black and white, not quite color.

 

When my sister and I walked in the house on this day, I knew something wasn't right. I felt a rush of knots go from my stomach to my throat. Nobody was home. But a man in black jeans, black boots, and a black leather jacket came out from one of the bedrooms. I didn't know him, and he looked like a killer. I froze. He came for me and I tried to fight back, but I had no strength against the man. My muscles were like jello when I tried to punch him. He grabbed my hand and took out a pocket knife. I squirmed and cried and pulled to get away, but I couldn't. He took the knife and made slits in my hand just above each knuckle. I couldn't feel the pain, but I knew it must have hurt, and I was bleeding.

 

All I could think was that I didn't want to die. And where was my sister? Out of the corner of my left eye I saw her standing behind me, paralyzed with fear. Just then my dog came darting towards me. I didn't want the man to hurt my dog. I screamed, and my dog held a ferocious grip on the the man's neck. The louder I screamed, the tighter his grip. Suddenly the man went limp and fell to the ground. His eyes had rolled to the back of his head and both sides of his neck were bleeding profusely.

 

My sister and I dragged the bloody mess to the back patio. We went back inside. It was dark already, and cars began pulling into the steep driveway in front of my grandma's house just in time for the party. My guts were still in my throat after what had just happened, and I had to make sure that the man was really dead.

 

I stepped into the puddle of blood that was seeping into the cracks of the concrete and surrounded the man's head, and I looked down at his face. His eyes fluttered under his bloody eyelids. My chest flooded with fear and I quickly began stomping his face with the bottom of my shoe. I tried to smash all the life that was left in him. My weak legs made no impact. The man's eyes shot open and he grabbed the foot I had planted on the ground. My hands and knees scraped the concrete as I barely escaped. I ran inside, grabbed my sister by the sleeve of her jacket and pulled her through the house to the side garage door, and outside to the front of the house. I scrambled for the key to my car, but my car was blocked in by all the cars that had just arrived for the party.

 

Heartbeat surging, and short of breath, all I could do was run.

 

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Exhaustion

 

Today I wrote a total of 6,033 words. That makes 6, 041. Do numbers count as words? 6,046. I'm exhausted. 6,048.

 

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Mushroom Jazz

 

I grew up listening to the Beatles. I have known the words to so many of their songs for as long as I can remember. Whether I listen to them now or not, I'll never forget those lyrics. Same with Tom Petty and UB40. You can thank my dad for that.

faaaaaaade.

goosebumps from the cold, mushy mixing left and right ears pound pound pound. Rvca. Number 1 if the Rays win. I don't like baseball. Is anybody offended? I'm not. Wikipedia: the source that every professor tells you not to use, but the first one I always turn to. rebellious. or lazy. cold and sweaty and almost on vacation. What's that game where the little yellow circle with a slit in it eats the little colorful monsters. Or are they octopus? octopi. I never played video games as a kid. I never had the desire. I was far more content running around on the gravel with no shoes on playing tag between the trees and picking mulberries. earth baby. sandy salty blonde hair. does that make sense? brrr. still cold. focus on one thing at a time. how do you do that? nervous stomach. anxiety. the muscles in my face are tense when i sleep. i don't drink caffeine. i woke up this morning with strings of words running through my head. Leftovers from yesterday's 6,000 words.   to leave the T. What a musical saturday night. T for time out. V for vacation. they might know but they don't know. I don't know. capitalize and uncapitalize. tension in my shoulders tingly muscles loud Loud LOUD. Something in common or nothing in common. Too black and white. middle ground. Save and Continue. tap Tap TAP. I eat chips in the library. I wonder if that bothers anyone. Is it as loud to others as it is loud in my head. loud and crunchy.

faaaaaaaade.

 

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

My Grain

 

Walls pinkish red. Round ceiling and no floor. Hundreds of tiny working men in tiny shoes stand on long metal poles screwed painfully into each wall. They take their metal hammers and clink clink clink on the metal poles, sometimes never resting for days at a time. Pounding echoes through the two almond shaped windows. Outside nobody hears, but inside it’s piercing, pounding, painfully loud.

Down, down below more tiny men in tiny boats paddle round and round in a pinkish red sea. Stirring, swishing, sometimes swimming. Jumping, splashing, swirling.

 

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Leaves From the Mental Portfolio of Jenna Gravino

 

The purpose of my portfolio will be to construct a compilation of pieces that I have written this semester ranging from the exploration of convergence, to creative nonfiction, to the emergence of a portfolio of personal and professional work. The final product should begin to define my qualities, interests, and strengths as a writer.

The final piece will include graphics, nonfiction narratives, interviews, reflections, and more. It will take the form of a collection, posted online, but separate from my current working wiki page.

I will compile the portfolio with my classroom peers in mind as the audience, with the hope that it will be viewed with sympathy for the creative and constructive process related to the wiki. I want it to convey a sense of my personal interest and creative processes and also welcome criticism of the processes and their outcomes.

I have been working as a secondary investigator throughout the semester by commenting, editing, reworking, and working with my peers to help their final projects emerge. Several of my own pieces have emerged from investigatory contributions to my peers’ portfolios.

My portfolio will start with an introduction of sorts (a cover page), which will tie the compilation together. Since it will be posted online, the pieces are not necessarily consecutive, and should be experienced in whichever form pleases the audience.

Several pieces already exist in my wiki page, which will be moved to the final project page, while I hope that others will emerge in the remaining weeks of this course. Within the next week I will designate and create the space for my final project, separate from my existing wiki page. The audience will be able to follow the progress of my final project by following the link posted on my wiki page.

I thought that following the prompt for the final project memo would help refocus my attention on what I need to do for the very quickly approaching end of the semester. For my technical writing class last semester I created a website for my final project. I would like to update/transform that website with the pieces I've written for this class. But I have some hesitations about doing so.. First, I finally got it up and running and taking it down to edit it could mean that I won't remember how to get it up again (I'm no pro, that's for sure). Second, would the website be an appropriate venue for the project? Should I just create a final project wiki page? What about putting it on a separate blog?

 

I seem to be busier than usual these past couple of weeks.. I picked up extra shifts at work to make extra money to go on my cruise, worked extra shifts for Halloween weekend/ John's Pass Seafood Festival, had visitors come into town and stay with me, watched my boyfriend's band Zebrageist play at Durty Nelly's for the 97x NBT10 Local Band Search, studied for tests, etc. etc.

 

I went a whole five days on my cruise without getting one headache (yes!) and the day I got back I had one for two days straight (boo!) Stressss.

 

I want to go see Anthony Bourdain on the Friday night before my birthday, but I'm hesitant to request that night off since i was gone for 5 days just last month.

 

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Today I'm 23

 

I looked around at the crowd as it flowed in from all sides of the theater. I looked for people like me, and didn't find many. I felt like I was one of the youngest people there, and I think I was, aside from my younger sister. We chatted amongst each other, waiting for the show to start. Finally, the announcer came over the loudspeaker, an unpleasing voice for some unknown reason. Perhaps because it disrupted my anticipation, and made me nervous. I peered down to the stage from our faraway seats and joined in the applause for the guest we had all come to see. Then, he was there in front of me, in real life, and I barely believed I was actually there, and he was actually there, and we were there in the same place. I felt that rush you get when you drive too fast over a tiny hill. It drops your stomach for a second, and it always makes me want to make a U-turn and do it again (except I never do, because I've got some place to be, and clearly I'm already speeding).

 

He promised not to make any jokes about Rachael Ray and proceeded to explain his immeasurable contempt with a creature named Sandra Lee. He told stories of his travels, about the bests and worsts, about other shows on the Food Network that he loves and hates (the crowd responds accordingly), about his network, the Travel Channel, now owned by the Food Network, and reassured us that we're safer eating Vietnamese street food (even if we don't know what it is) than we are eating the breakfast buffet at the Hilton.

 

He told us that aside from the family trips to France when he was a young kid, he hadn't experienced any other countries or cultures for himself until he was 44 years old. He said until then he lived his life, day in and day out, in the back of a kitchen, with other greasy, tattooed cooks, looking out at a sea of silhouettes in the dining room, talking about "dicks, dicks, dicks."

 

At the end, he opened the floor up for questions. Several hands from insisting older adults shot up, while some even stood up, and shouted, to get his attention. They all seemed worthy and anxious of having a conversation with the Anthony Bourdain. After fighting for his turn, one man (probably in his 50's) stood up to say how inspired he was by Anthony, and that he had finally begun to pursue his passion for culture and cuisine by traveling across Asia, and planning a trip to Italy.

 

How could you wait until you're 50 to start doing something if you've always wanted to do it? And then I thought of all the things that could keep you from doing something that you love, you know, circumstances beyond your control, obligations, life.

 

And then I thought about how glad I was for it to be my 23rd birthday. Just 23. And I've been places, and I'm going places. And I'll never wait til I'm 50.

 

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

For My Sister

 

Matching plastic heart and star bracelets

Changing your diapers at Grandma's

Too scared to ride the school bus

Throwing up at cheerleading camp

Throwing up during mom and dad's fights

Throwing up spaghetti on mom and dad's white carpet

Sleepovers on the pullout couch

Too scared to sleep over at the neighbor's house

Too scared to stay with a babysitter so we had to go to Dwight Yoakum

Sleeping in the laundry room with new puppy, Buster

Sleeping at Aunt Sharon's reading Shel Silverstein every night, drinking coffee in the morning, walking Tenor

Sleeping on the floor of your bedroom in our new house with no furniture

Being the new kids

Being in high school

"No Parties"

Sleeping on your bathroom floor

Subway

Giving me money when I was a broke college student

Giving you money to go on Spring Break

My breakups

Your breakups

Little sister not so little anymore

 

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Please click here to access my FINAL PROJECT.

 

 

 

Comments (5)

Boda said

at 11:36 am on Aug 31, 2010

Jenna - re: Burning Man and the default world - you got it exactly right.

William Kuncz said

at 9:12 pm on Sep 23, 2010

The Who remix was cool, maybe try http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hKUBTX9kKEo next? My favorite...

jlgravin said

at 2:53 am on Sep 25, 2010

Ah, the song everyone thinks is called 'Teenage Wasteland'.. probably my favorite, too!

Lindsey Braun said

at 7:15 pm on Sep 28, 2010

Jenna, this story is funny in my own way because I know your sister and can't imagine yall doing that ot each other because you both are so sweet now! But I do know what you are talking about to a certain extent. My aunt started doing weird things and forgot a lot of important things and even made up certain things, for instance, one day she went to her brothers house because they were supposed to go to lunch that day when he never met anyone for lunch because he was an assistant manager of Publix so he didn't get a lunch break. And another time was, my aunt sat in the mall's parking lot for three hours because my grandmom was going to meet her there so they could go shopping together, didn't think to call her and ask her why she was so late or anything, just sat there. When my aunt came home to her boyfriend after and told him the situation, he called my grandmom and she said they never made plans to go to the mall so, he took my aunt to the hospital and turns out she had a brain tumor. The doctors said if we hadn't have realized the situation this early, she could have ended up paralyzed by the brain damage. It's a scary situation to almost lose someone but it also makes you feel better because they have such a great family that is there for them and know them enough to realize the problem and be there to help them through it. :)

M. O'Neill said

at 6:23 pm on Oct 24, 2010

Hi Jenna! I actually know the band From This Fire and I didn't know about this concert, so thanks for filling me in!

You don't have permission to comment on this page.