The following is a Found Poem I created for Writing Research and Technology using my own tweets which are listed below the poem. This poem is meant to convey the frustration and isolation I feel when I am trying to have a conversation with my mother and discover that she is not listening.

Alien
Talking over never
blast of accomplishment
only draining time without focus
no part of truth
close look.....
                harder looking......
slave of dreams
long silence....
new effort impulse
                 ..... enter impossible
                                    ...... alien.

"An Encounter" takes us on the journey of two young men who have grown weary of the everyday and want a brief change of scenery. I ended up in my strange place as a result of similar motivation. Out of a desire to break away from the school/work routine that keeps me isolated from those I love for 15 weeks, I decided to visit my brother in Boston for his birthday. Knowing I would only be able to spend a single day away and that my funds were limited, I purchased a Mega Bus ticket which would allow me to travel overnight both ways, giving me a full 17 hours in town.
_My longest bus ride to date had been 20 minutes within the same city and so Mega Bus was my strange place. Like Joyce's characters I tried to remain serious and stoic while waiting in line and after getting on the bus. This did not last long since there were a lot of friendly people in line. I had to wait some time outside for the bus to arrive, a concept I am not used to. A man behind me struck up a conversation about the sudden return of winter and how short the line was in comparison to his last trip. He thought this was a good sign and that not many people would be on the bus. I want him to shut up. He is messing up my mean mug. And he was wrong.
Because of my disdain for heights, I strongly desired to ride on the lower level of this double-decker bus, but those in front of me in line chose those seats first. I scrambled to the upper deck to find that the only row of multiple empty seats was at the back of the bus where there were five seats across. There were four empty seats. I folded myself into the one closest to the window on the right side. I was feeling good about my seat selection until a couple of loud, young girls sat next to me. One had a voice similar to nails on a chalkboard. Of course she doesn't shut up for hours despite the silence and even snoring from the other riders.
The bus smells like a musty man's armpit and someone has the audacity to eat what smells like an Italian hoagie. The smell gets worse. My seat is much less comfortable than it felt originally. The lights above me remind me of alien spaceships. After what I feel is a reasonable amount of time, I put my ear phones in and let my Ipod drown out my annoying neighbor. Much like Joyce's character I would be relieved to run into the annoying man from the line. I did not experience fear in this strange place, but discomfort was a theme that carried throughout.
The universal themes I identified were fear of the unknown, despite the whole ordeal having been our own idea, having to adjust preconceived notions of what our "strange place" will be like, wanting to be left alone to process our "strange place" in our own way, a strong desire to blend in and grasping for anything familiar when things become uncomfortable.