Letter in Response to Dianna Levi

Letter from Dianna

Dear Missy Diana Levi,

I’m glad you had a great time being in our Arganee World. I enjoyed my short interactions with you and we seemed to have a lot in common. You brought up good points about me being “hidden.” I just want to remain anonymous in a way with the online pictures. I want to be seen but not seen at the same time if you know what I mean.

And yes I absolutely love the DDA’s. They have been very fun little challenges that I enjoyed being a part of.  I hope you do get to try new things more often too. There’s always so much to gain.

My favorite work of the semester was The Man on The Blue Moped. I put so much work into this and I really loved it a lot. The amount of fun I had in this class surprised me so much. It was like can this really be grad school.

Can’t believe meme making was in February and blackout poetry was something I’m glad I know how to do now. 😀

My biggest weakness was managing to comment on a variety of other people’s posts. I felt like finishing the checklist was my priority at the beginning of the semester. This probably was the result on the focus on getting my grade so commenting fell on the back burner so to speak. But I was able to comment on some people’s blogs at least.

I would tell other future alchemists to relax and have fun. When working with outside participants, it just made the experience a whole lot broader than a small group. My favorite interaction was the studio visit I was in.


In general, I just keep learning more and more that there are many positives that can come off of online interaction. Online interaction really is beneficial to education rather than completely detrimental.

Thanks for the mini poem too Dianna. We’ll talk more soon.


Anna Bella


The End of Netnarr is Nigh

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It only seems like our fun had only just begun yesterday. This is some kind of hoax. Just an alchemistic (made this word up) trick to deceive us.

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Ahh, to say goodbye to all these alchemist friends I’ve made will be such a hard thing to do. Of course this is a hoax because digital alchemy/network narratives could never die. Even if technology were to come to an end tomorrow. It’s just apart of the human culture. Collaboration has been in existence since the beginning of mankind. Adam and eve, the people who built the Tower of Babel together.

I do wonder if I’ll ever become a true digital alchemist. Rebeg and M Prophetissma were really good at editing and glitching Youtube videos and coding messages. I’m not good at any of this stuff.

However I’ll keep trying to improve my alchemistic skills and I’ll only get better and better in time.


Dual Digital Identities

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So, I love having multiple online identities and this Netnarr class is allowing us to openly engage in this activity while actively pursuing our education. How about that? Talk about a non-traditional class for sure. But in the past and also  in this class, having many online identities becomes seriously overwhelming. Different emails to check, multiple identities to maintain and people to reach out to/reply to. All of these tasks make being more than one person online very challenging for people to deal with in their daily or even weekly lives. So as much as this is fun, it’s a bit overwhelming.


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Weekly Reflection

It was a completely awesome experience to hear everyone read and share their piece with the class. I do have to say its hard not to get intimidated when one hears others read their pieces. It’s really hard not to judge yourself and compare your writing accomplishments with others. But I do understand it helps you grow when you listen to what other people are able to do in their own works. Excited to see what we do next. 🙂

A Lovely Game of Cards


A Lovely Game of Cards

By Anna Bella

(Expanded on from http://daily.arganee.world/dda84/ )

I found deck of cards

no light but warm.

Bored so followed the sound

of a lady’s laughter.

She bid me take rest

and join her for a game.

I was sure I would win

but she wouldn’t give in.

Hours and hours she played her witchery

No she couldn’t make it easy.

Haunted by hours past

with green blood

the fire consumed itself

and disappeared.

My eyes were

majestically wounded

but my brain

a thousand head strong.

Memory could not fail me

cause I was a dolly.

The crystal knight

shone on the moonlight’s throne

of forgotten castles and rotten bones.

The cards burned my hands

and they almost fell off.

The wicked witch had plotted and schemed

now I knew why she was laughing.

In order to win

she would do anything.

No fair game, no fair playing

but the gods knew she was unworthy.

She threw down her 7 of spades

Only one hand left I had to play

the other one dangling.

The ghosts said

life was a game

and it was never fair

but I beg to differ.

Little did she know

the crystal knight was on my side.

One, two with the stroke of my brooch,

I called him to me

and he answered my call.

Crystal magick he could do,

Crystal magick he beat you.

What did he do?

I can’t tell you!

But I played a lovely game of cards.


The Guiding Light

The Guiding Light

By Anna Bella


I’ve been asleep for hours and awaken to use the restroom. I struggle to get out of my bed and put on my fluffy night slippers and open my door to go down the hall. As I eagerly return through the hallway to go back sleep, I am completely shocked to realize that my room has been closed back in with only a beaming blue light coming through the outline of the door. My heart skips a beat and my eyes widen. I have fully awaken from my half awake half asleep self. I begin to tremble and wonder if I’m still dreaming. My heart beats faster and faster. My palms begin to sweat and fear starts to consume me. What movie did I watch last night, I try to remember. I approached the door and slowly peer inside. I notice the light has one source from something within. Everything else in my room appears exactly how I left it instead with this blue light shining on it. I slowly open the door and to my surprise my phone turns out to be the source with a mini transparent human standing in the midst of the strong blue light. I approach closer to realize that it was a mini me inside the light. It spoke up and said “Hello Anna Bella, I’m Anna Bella.” I was taken aback and thought I really have to be sleeping because this is really insane. Someone must’ve given me something bad to eat or drink. I have to be more careful next time, I thought. She continue to spoke and said, “You aren’t sleeping. I guess I could say we aren’t sleeping. I am your higher self, the all knowing you, the true inside of you.” At this point I’m not sure if I should believe this or not. Afterall, it could be a trick. Maybe it’s another captivating dream that I’m going to be awoken from shortly. I’ll be mad for a few minutes and then forget all about it later. I decide to play along with it. Might as well enjoy this magical experience while it last. “Oh, right, How could I not remember you?,” I sarcastically say to this creature. She responded, ” You don’t fool me, because you are me.” ” Enough with this nonsense, why are you here,” I demand to know. “We never know how to relax and be calm. Always feisty and snappish. There’s no time to debate who I am. Just know that I’m here to help you. There’s alot of people you need to help and we also need to help ourselves too.” “How do I know that I can trust you,” I ask. She said, “look out that window and you’ll notice that your mom and dad have returned.” “That’s ridiculous, they were on a plane heading to Hawaii the last time I spoke to them,” I exclaimed. “Go see for yourself.” I walked over to the window and looked out and to my surprise, my parents were driving into the driveway just like she said. “Now what,” I said to myself. Now what?
To Be Continued…

Also published on the youngwritersproject.org

Hope in the Rubble

Here’s another great dda I decided to respond to.

This is my fictional account of this moment (imagining how he feels.)

Hope In the Rubble

By Anna Bella

James looked at his old record player remembering how he had everything he had ever needed. He never had to work for anything because his parents had left him enough money to take care of himself forever or so they thought. But here it was they had not thought of everything when the planes sent bombs onto the family estate amongst other civilian homes. James felt tears roll down his cheeks as he felt alone and lost in the world. The cold winds blew the tears on his cheek to a mini frozen river and caused him extra pain. The records spun a song that touched his heart and made him feel like there was still hope left for him. He truly was alone as he had never married and never had children. He had believed during all of his life that it was enough to have money and that it would always be there for him versus people in his opinion. He had thought that money and wealth was eternal. Not only was his home destroyed by the bombs but also the stocks had crashed 3 weeks before in his city. James reached over and put his favorite record into the player. Luckily, it wasn’t destroyed during all that happened. He pulled out his father’s old pipe and smoked some tobacco and he sang to the music saying “I know change gonna come.”


Weekly Reflection


I made a Trapped in My Head sound file this past week. This was made from a collection of noises at work- an alarm beeping and phone ringing, professors speaking( mostly Levine can be heard at the end). I also found some heartbeat and breathing files to place inside. The back story would be this is a girl who is a former soldier coming into a campus environment for the first time after being in war.  I also had some gun fire audio as well.

Being introduced into the youngwritersproject community was a definitely cool experience for me to be involved in. There really are no words to describe how amazing this is. I barely had enough time to see every single thing on the website but I do see that there are alot of very talented youth on the site and it’s crazy how I can still relate to alot of what they have said in their different pieces.


Thinking on The Boundaries of Written Language in a Digital Environment

Thinking on The Boundaries of Written Language in a Digital Environment

By Anna Bella

The other day I found myself in a conversation with an online friend about some internet drama. After a while, I had so much emotions and passions behind what I wanted to say that I felt like I had become mute. I wanted to actually SsAyy the words that I was typing. The typing felt like a burden. Then in my rush to type what I had to say, the other person kept failing to understand what I was saying. Since they weren’t keeping up with me, I got upset that I had to remember what I had said prior.  Even though I was still getting out my words, it made me angry that I literally wanted to speak in this digital environment. I had to be silent because it was just a written conversation and I really hate this limitation.

I prefer to talk to someone through voice except when I want to be silent. What’s the point of having a conversation with someone else when you can’t actually have a regular complete dialogue.

Auto correct always seems to be the one that needs correcting and Twitter has a constricting character limit. Because I have so many thoughts flowing through my head, I feel almost like I’m being restricted so to speak.

Even when I have texted during undergrad years, it was common that my associates and classmates at school would not be able to keep up with the amount of things I had to say. There’s some things people don’t get to clarify and explain in the moment in the digital communication world. This whole other world of rules in the texting and other digital communication age has pros and many cons too. When you’re on the phone with someone it’s a more interactive exchange of conversation and this is a whole lot better than simple digital communication. Sometimes they do not get to say everything they want to say and you don’t get to say everything either but it’s a more interactive dialogue. I think that in-person communication is still the best communication to have. The best thing about written language in a digital environment is that I have an actual record of what I have said but can the digital age fully keep up with me?

The Man on the Blue Moped-Rated R

The Man on The Blue Moped-Rated R

By Anna Bella



“I looked for someone to help me and I was surprised when I saw myself. I saw a man on a blue moped, and I saw freedom.”

The man in the photo you see is Reuben Cross. I met him a few days ago. Mr. Reuben is a man of an arrogant yet remarkable character. He has held a deep bitterness in his heart for what happened to his mother and father in the distant past. They were brutally murdered by the Santos mafia (aka the Santos brothers). In order for you to understand why, I would have to explain what he told me.

His mother and father were kidnapped after the couple tried to report the Santos brothers to the local police for the criminal activity they had witnessed. They suspected that the brothers were involved with illegal drugs and illegal distribution of firearms. Little did they know that this particular mafia was very close with the local police and the Cross couple’s actions ultimately backfired. They didn’t even know the Santos brothers were mafia. All they knew is they wanted to make sure that their community was safe for everyone in it. But maybe it’s safer to mind your own business. One night the Santos brothers sent a patrol car to the Cross’ house under the pretense that the police department had an important update on the case. Instead, the crooked cops handcuffed the couple and gave them over to the Santos brothers.

The brothers took the Cross couple to their huge factory with barbed wires and made them test subjects for the drugs that they were experimenting with. In other words, the Cross couple became drug addicts. They weren’t the only ones as the Santos brothers were also involved in a huge amount of human trafficking. The Cross couple was in this captivity I could say for 4 years. Mrs. Cross ended up pregnant and despite her condition little Reuben was born perfectly fine. Reuben was a complete miracle.

Even through their mental inhibitions, Mr. and Mrs. Cross knew that they had to get their child out of the environment they were in and get Reuben to freedom. They tried their best to keep Reuben hidden away from the immediate sight of the Santos brothers and their cohorts. The brothers were so busy messing around with the new women they captured every week to pay little Reuben any mind.

The couple waited until Reuben was 8 years old and planned an escape route for their young child to go on. They took an old raggedy white shirt and made huge holes from both of their skin using some old drug needles. They took the needles and soaked them in the holes to write a message that the person that found their son could read. They had no access to pen and paper. They also hoped that their son would be able to know who he was through blood testing at some point in their life.

The message that was written with their impaired minds:

“Dis Reuben Cross from Fred + Irene Cross Take care of our son pls. We r captive”

They prepped their son with sweet parting words. They decided they were going to throw him over the fence. Reuben’s parents told him to call out for someone to help him once he was over the fence. The factory was next to a relatively active highway. They took their two old pillows and bore a hole for their son’s head to fit through. They put it over his head and over his body and then squeezed their pillows into the remaining space on each side of him. One to protect his back and one to protect his stomach. They instructed their son to tuck his head in and embrace his knees securely. Mr. Cross made his wife climb up on his shoulders while holding his son and she threw their son over the fence. They weren’t sure if he would get picked up by the crooked cops of the town but they wanted to give their son a chance to have freedom and it was worth the shot.

The Santos brothers appeared suddenly coming after the Cross’ couple and as little Reuben fell over the fence he saw the worse sight in his short life in that moment. He saw his parents killed at point blank. A bullet barely got him as he struggled to run after he hit the ground. He shouted to his parents “Thank y-o-o-o-o-u-u-u, I lov-v-ve you guys.” As he vocalized the words it’s almost like his mournful voice was in slow motion. He ran and ran and as he took one last look he saw his mother and father killed, and held back tears. He ran and he ran.

I asked Mr. Reuben who took him in after he escaped the factory. He told me “I looked for someone to help me and I was surprised when I saw myself. I saw a man on a blue moped, and I saw freedom.”