Blog #3

Original  (Exercise Seven)

“Sunshine” was everything that I had wanted to hear in a song, but had never heard before. It was power. It was love. It was 1967. I had never been exposed to anything even close to Cream. My exposure to music had been exclusive to what I had heard in my mother’s car on the way to school. I came from a Christian family, so all I heard was divine music for thirteen years of my life. When I heard “Sunshine” blaring out of those TV speakers, courtesy of Guitar Hero, something inside me could not let it go. That song was stuck in my head for weeks. I still remember walking outside of Ms. Williams’s room at school, humming away.

Extended

"Sunshine” was everything that I had wanted to hear in a song, but had never heard before; It was power, love, 1967 in a song. I had never been exposed to anything even close to Cream because exposure to music had been exclusive to what I had heard in my mother’s car on the way to school. I came from a Christian family, so all I heard was divine music for thirteen years of my life, so when I heard “Sunshine” blaring out of those TV speakers, courtesy of Guitar Hero, something inside me could not let it go. That song was stuck in my head for weeks; I still remember walking outside of Ms. Williams’s room at school, humming away.

  
Fragmented 

           “Sunshine” was everything that I had wanted to hear in a song. I had never heard anything like it before. It was power. It was love. It was 1967. I had never been exposed to anything even close to Cream. My exposure to music had been exclusive to what I had heard in my mother’s car on the way to school. I came from a Christian family. All I heard was divine music for thirteen years of my life. When I heard “Sunshine” blaring out of those TV speakers, courtesy of Guitar Hero, something inside me could not let it go. That song was stuck in my head for weeks. I still remember walking outside of Ms. Williams’s room at school, humming away.


Exercise 6

“Sunshine” was everything that I had wanted to hear in a song, but had never heard before. It was power. It was love. It was 1967. I had never been exposed to anything even close to Cream. My exposure to music had been exclusive to what I had heard in my mother’s car on the way to school. I came from a Christian family, so all I heard was divine music for thirteen years of my life. When I heard “Sunshine” blaring out of those TV speakers, courtesy of Guitar Hero, something inside me could not let it go. That song was stuck in my head for weeks. I still remember walking outside of Ms. Williams’s room at school, humming away.

Now, what could I do with this new found love of music? I had already tried to learn guitar—and failed miserably. What was easier than guitar? Drums! I would learn the drums! Drums are easy and they do not hurt your fingers! Christmas was approaching, so I figured that a shiny electric drum set was exactly that thing to ask for, and man, was I right.

    “Sunshine” was everything that I had wanted to hear in a song, but had never heard before. It was power. It was love. It was 1967. I had never been exposed to anything even close to Cream. My exposure to music had been exclusive to what I had heard in my mother’s car on the way to school. I came from a Christian family, so all I heard was divine music for thirteen years of my life. When I heard “Sunshine” blaring out of those TV speakers, courtesy of Guitar Hero, something inside me could not let it go. That song was stuck in my head for weeks. I still remember walking outside of Ms. Williams’s room at school, humming away.

Now, what could I do with this new found love of music? I had already tried to learn guitar—and failed miserably. What was easier than guitar? Drums! I would learn the drums! Drums are easy and they do not hurt your fingers! Christmas was approaching, so I figured that a shiny electric drum set was exactly that thing to ask for, and man, was I right. 

I chose these exercises because they tackled my biggest pet peeve about writing: repetition. I do not want to be the writer who lacks imagination or vocabulary, so switching up my sentence structure and highlighting repetitious nouns and pronouns were perfect exercises for me.