GRAHAM CRACKERS. ='[
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Thursday, February 5, 2009
In the hot, stuffy gymnasium of Farmington High School, I could feel the hundreds of sweaty people pressing in around me, breathing in the same thickened humid air that I was forced to breathe. This small gym was usually occupied by physical education classes and the occasional class skippers who would much rather shoot hoops than read The Epic of Gilgamesh. Today, however, the gym was transformed. Two hundred folding chairs faced the front of the gym and the bleachers, usually tucked away to allow for extra space in the physical education classes, were pulled out to their full capacity. Even with the five hundred additional seats provided by the bleachers, and even with the two hundred seats the folding chairs provided, many people were left standing in the rear of the gym or huddled together on the floor. After all, this day was a magical day, a day of transformation. This day, June 16th, the class of 2007 was about to leave our halls and stumble out of the building to be blinded by the sun-light and become people of the world. I shifted in my seat, anxious for the ceremony to begin. Just then, the dreaded music began and the slow, melancholy march commenced. In one massive movement, everyone in the gym quickly came to their feet to watch the seniors, clad in the color of mourning, as they sauntered, sometimes out of step, down the main aisle. I watched anxiously as my friends, my class-mates, and my high-school family walked past me; next year, it would be me in their place. Someone said a prayer over the graduating class, the speakers said their words of encouragement, and our principle handed out the diplomas. A loud cheer erupted from both the new graduates and those in the crowd. In the eighteen or so short years of each of his or her lives, this was the biggest event thus far. I could not wait for this day of celebration, this day of sheer elation to be mine.
JT LaMantia, a recent graduate of Farmington High School, class of 2007 had plans to celebrate his graduation, like most teens usually do. He made appearances at several parties over the weekend of graduation, but June 19th was his day. That Tuesday was the day he celebrated his liberation from that cruel institution of learning. In Farmington’s bordering town of Middleton, JT, his close friends and his girlfriend, Maddie, made plans to stay at a friend’s cabin. Waterfront property on Sunrise Lake, toys for the water, access to the island in the middle of the lake, all at their disposal. As a recent graduate, JT had not a care in the world; everything had panned out perfectly in his life. Oh, yes, he had plans for college, but that was months away. Life seems to go on forever, stretching on eternally in front of us all; why worry about the end so soon? Celebrate the now in life. That was how JT lived. He and his friends went out on the lake that day in those spirits.
JT was a great guy. JT was a typical guy. He was mischievous but genuinely good. He, unlike me, was the person that everyone knew. While I hid behind my books and small group of friends, he was the outgoing guy who had a friend in almost everyone in the school. He always had a quirky smirk on his face. Unlike me, he was very involved in sports; I kept to theatre and chorus. JT played a few years of football and was an amazing basketball player; he played with such passion. Two loves were present in JT’s life, one being basketball, the other being Maddie. Not once did I ever hear anything negative about him, but that isn’t to say I didn’t hear about him. I would hear about him in the halls: how he scored the most points at last night’s game against our rival school, how he planned on taking Maddie to prom in a stretch limo, and once I heard about how he defended a mentally handicapped kid who was being bullied. I often passed him in the halls of Farmington High School. In a school of five hundred, it was hard not to pass someone at least twenty times, know someone’s name, or know his or her business. I doubt he ever heard about my business; unlike him I did not really have any to spread.
June 23rd, 2007, a day I can never forget. Nor will I. Some events in life are the ones we try to forget, but they seem to be engrained permanently in our minds, forever haunting us. We tell ourselves that we ought to forget them. Sometimes it is things that are important to us for some reason unknown to us. Sometimes it is a life altering event. This event was a life altering event for me. I do not even know if it should be. I do not know if it is greedy to claim this event that was not mine as an event that changed my perspective of life. I do not know why, but this day, June 23rd, stays fresh in my mind, constantly replaying in bits and pieces over and over again. Some pieces are void and I have forgotten the exact words that were spoken, but I cannot forget how I felt. Maybe, the reason why I can’t forget is because JT taught me the most important lesson in my life, and I barely knew him.
In the bright light of the early morning sun, I glanced in the mirror to scrutinize my attire for the day. My black heels clicked on the linoleum of the bathroom floor as I backed away from the mirror; I dressed my part perfectly. I never planned on this. I never wanted this. I never expected this. Just at that moment, my mother alerted me to my chauffeur’s presence. Riley, my comrade from the fire department, hugged me quickly, always there when I need him most.
We drove in silence to the Emmanuel Advent Church in our bordering city, Rochester, and pulled into the already packed parking-lot. Walking quickly, we made our way into the church building and found ourselves blending into the sea of black people, all crushed into this small, florally fragrant, room. Never had I seen such a melancholy lot. In the middle of this moving sea of black, there stood a tripod. No one looked directly at it, although I could catch some people looking at it, and then quickly looking away. I walked up to it, stood right in front of it, and gazed at it for a long moment. It was a beautiful collage. Snap-shots of JT’s life decorated the poster board. In the very middle of the collage was the picture taken right after he received his diploma, exactly one week ago. He was grinning in his black cap and gown, his orange flower standing out brashly against the black, his grin piercing. Beside the collage was a table topped with a bouquet of white lilies and a book with various signatures and messages. In these messages were praises of JT’s ambitions, written memories, loving thoughts, and numerously written was the phrase, “Only the good die young.”
I pressed past the ghost in the pictures, past the overly fragrant lilies and into the sanctuary. The air is hot and stuffy. The air is suffocating me, pressing in from all directions, thick and moist, smelling of yet even more lilies, women’s perfume and rank from the odor of hundred of fresh tears. The air carried the sounds of muffled sobs, sniffling, and the air carried the weight of a silence that coincided with the small sounds of grief. I felt oddly claustrophobic in the vast room. I pushed forward through those clamoring around the doorway and I calmly walked to the far back corner of the room which gave me an excellent view of those in the room. I observed the women who grasped and fiddled with their tissues, their faces a faint hue of red. I observed the men who leaned far over, their backs bowed over, head in their hands, trying to make it inconspicuous that they were crying. I observed my fellow class-mates, hugging one another, openly crying into one another’s shoulders, patting backs, stroking hair, comforting each other.
One class-mate I directly observed was previously a great friend to me, almost a brother. He was on the football team with JT and was friends with him as well. Sitting next to his mother in the pew, Chris Greeley leaned on her for support. She patted his light brown, extremely curly hair. I had never seen him so taken by grief before. Like the stereotypical football playing teen-aged boy, he would usually take grief and shake it off, but this time, grief shook him. His cousin, Scotty DePalma sat a few pews over with some family members. I distinctly recall seeing him cry openly. He, too, was on the football team with JT. However, the person who consumed my observation the most was Big Mikey Lemlin. He was one of JT’s good friends. He was the tough guy who was the biggest teddy-bear at the same time. Today, though, there was no tough guy present, purely the boy who was completely affected by the loss of a great friend. I caught only one glimpse of Maddie. She was not crying, but when I looked into her eyes, I knew she was not crying only because she had run out of tears. This event was so surreal to her. She was there at her boyfriend’s final hour. No seventeen year old girl, at the prime of her love-filled relationship, should be able to say that.
The words that were spoken were moving. The words that were spoken were filled with emotion and love and sincere grief. The words are nothing without the emotion. The Chaplain of the Fire Department, a religious man, and father of one of JT’s good friends, spoke. His words did not speak to me; what spoke to me was his anguish over the young man being laid to rest. JT’s aunt spoke over the charity and community spirit. She spoke of how our community bonded together in the time of tragedy. JT’s best friend spoke of the times they shared and the full life JT was able to live in his few short years. He regretted nothing in life because he lived his life to the fullest extent he could. The words of an unfamiliar hymn projected onto the spacious wall of the sanctuary and we sang to the memory of JT LaMantia. The words filled the audience with such remorse that many could not finish singing the hymn. There was no silence when the music ended. The room was filled with wails, sobs and nose blowing.
I wasn’t prepared for the intense emotion that followed. In the front of the room a few men stood up. They stepped past the floral displays and stood at either end of JT’s closed casket. I remember thinking how ironic it was that caskets were made to be so ornate and beautiful at this time of ugly emotion and hateful remorse. Those professional men picked up the casket and began the melancholy march down the center aisle. Big Mikey stood up, reverently, respecting his friend, and in one massive movement, the rest followed suit to watch JT’s final march. Of his short nineteen years on this earth, this was the most significant event, the end of his life. The sorrow in that room was palpable; I could feel it stinging my skin. I could feel the remorse in the tears gushing down my cheeks. It was tangible. I could reach my hand out and grasp at it in the air if I so desired and hold it there, in my hand. So, this was death; this is what death felt like to those who lived.
On June 19th, I heard my father’s fire scanner alert EMT and Fire responders of an incoming medical call. All my life I have heard these ridiculous scanners prattle off calls; I barely pay attention to them at all these days. For some strange reason, I heard this one. “Strafford to all Farmington Fire and EMS responders: please respond mutual-aid to Middleton, Sunrise Lake, for a nineteen year old male, not conscious, not breathing, was involved in a ski-doo accident.” ‘Middleton,’ I thought, ‘that is my neighboring town.’ I stared at the scanner as if it would say, “Cancel Farmington, call is ACTUALLY in Milton.” I don’t know anyone in Milton. Let this happen to someone else’s town. ‘Middleton,’ I thought, ‘kids from Middleton attend school in Farmington.’ Through that scanner, I heard the responders rush to the fire station, their frantic voices declaring their acknowledgement to the emergency. I heard the ambulance sign on marking its departure from downtown Farmington, a solid fifteen minutes away from Sunrise Lake at regular speed. I heard the ambulance as it wailed past my road, and following it the sirens of the engine truck. After that, silence.
Silence spans on for infinity. Thirty seconds seems like hours. Those five minutes lasted an eternity. I left my body behind, imagining who it could be. Maybe it was someone from a different state. Out-of-staters always get into SOME kind of trouble in New Hampshire. Maybe I misheard the age. Maybe the dispatcher said ‘ninety,’ not ‘nineteen.’ The dispatcher was known for mumbling, after all. But, what kind of a ninety year old male goes on a ski-doo? Silence creates insanity.
Finally, I heard a voice over the scanner. CPR was in progress. The EMTs did what is called a ‘scoop-n-go.’ If the person they are tending to has any hope, it is by getting them to the hospital as quickly as humanly possible. I heard no more from the scanner that night.
Myspace is the teenager’s best means of communication and sometimes it is man-kind’s curse. When I logged on I found dozens of bulletin posts informing everyone that someone, SOMEONE, died in a ski-doo accident in Middleton and that two others were injured, critically. The bulletins poured in dozen after dozen until a verdict was finally reached. JT LaMantia had passed away. The details were never shared with the public of how gruesome it was. Rumors spread that he died instantly. Other rumors spread that he received a concussion and then drowned. Some say he felt no pain, but how can we be sure of that? We can only hope.
JT, I never knew you very well, but I learned a great deal from you. You taught me a more valuable lesson than anyone here on this earth could teach me now. I learned the value of a minute. I learned the value of a loved one. Watching Maddie in so much pain scares me. I sometimes remember seeing her after your funeral opening up your old locker and placing a single red rose in there, then silently pressing the locker door shut knowing that you would never meet her there again. Your memory haunts her, I know it still does. She cried herself to sleep for months. “It is the dead, not the living, who make the longest demands.” (Antigone, Sophocles) JT, your demand will remain perpetually. Your demand was to live life; your demand was to love life.
Essay for Foundations English, 101.
In the peer reviews today, the only advice I had was to nix the part about graduation.
I added it for irony and parallelism. Key phrases are re-used in the part about the funeral.
Should I change anything? Make the parallelism more dramatic? Make it more ironic? I was trying to be subtle so that people had to relate to it more.. I don't want to be like "and it was ironic that one week ago the graduates of FHS were in black.. what common color."
Here are the reviews I got.
Reader one:
"The story is really touching! I could really feel myself being there and watching what you watched. I don't like the beginning though, it doesn't really have much to do w/ the whole point of your essay."
To the prompt of: "review the story, looking at the way the suspense builds and resovles itself. Does the drama lose intensity?" "I thought it was good. Drama and tension build. I wanted to keep reading to find out what happened.
To the prompt of: "Point to any descriptive details that are especially effective. Note any places that need for specific description. Also indicate unnecessary descriptions or irrelevant dialog." "I think the whole 'graduation' intro was irrelevant. Maybe just briefly talk about how the class about you had just graduated and it was a time to celebrate."
"You go from past to present a lot. Good conclusion! Great story! Really good sentence structure, for the most part. I was really into the story!"
Then she went thru my paper and I'm convinced that she doesn't appreciate creative writing. She nixed a properly used semi-colon. Here is the example: "I watched anxiously as my friends, my class-mates, and my high-school family walked past me; next year, it would be me in their place." Properly used. Excellent form, Smee! A semi colon brings together two independant clauses. The clause that those people passed me is one clause. The second is that next year it would be me in their place.
"He, unlike me, was the person that everyone knew." The corrector of my paper believes that instead of me, I should write "myself." She also says that that entire paragraph does not flow well. She also says that I should re-word the sentence: "I do not know if it is greedy to claim this event that was not mine as an event that changed my perspective of life." It makes sense to me, especially in context. Haha, she wasn't even consistent in correcting, cause I used "me" instead of "myself" in an identical sentenceeeee. She wasn't done, though. She wrote that I ought to re-word this sentence: "One class-mate I directly observed was previously a great friend to me, almost a brother." I don't find that sentence awkward or confusing. I shouldn't capitalize "Big Mikey" even though it is his nick-name.... and she didn't like my redundancy to make a big point. "The words that were spoken were moving. The words that were spoken were filled with emotion and love and grief." She says I ought to nix the whole second "the words that were spoken" and turn it into an "and."
The other peer-editor just praised my work. Yes, I like that, but come on, tear my paper apart just a smidge. I may complain about it, but it makes me doubt my work and second guess myself.
Now, more than ever, I want to be an editor. :P
So, I couldn't really stand seeing the girl edit my paper; I'm quite bad at taking critisism. But, nonetheless, I still want it.
This may be mostly to Bex, but edit my paper, please? :P I won't slam YOU on my blog... but that is because you're not a general snot in class as well.
Elena, my room-mate has been listening to the same song on repeat for the last 24 hours.. Nay, not listening to, meerly, singing along with.. Granted, I know I listen to the same songs sometimes time and time again...... but this is taking it to a new extreme.
JT LaMantia, a recent graduate of Farmington High School, class of 2007 had plans to celebrate his graduation, like most teens usually do. He made appearances at several parties over the weekend of graduation, but June 19th was his day. That Tuesday was the day he celebrated his liberation from that cruel institution of learning. In Farmington’s bordering town of Middleton, JT, his close friends and his girlfriend, Maddie, made plans to stay at a friend’s cabin. Waterfront property on Sunrise Lake, toys for the water, access to the island in the middle of the lake, all at their disposal. As a recent graduate, JT had not a care in the world; everything had panned out perfectly in his life. Oh, yes, he had plans for college, but that was months away. Life seems to go on forever, stretching on eternally in front of us all; why worry about the end so soon? Celebrate the now in life. That was how JT lived. He and his friends went out on the lake that day in those spirits.
JT was a great guy. JT was a typical guy. He was mischievous but genuinely good. He, unlike me, was the person that everyone knew. While I hid behind my books and small group of friends, he was the outgoing guy who had a friend in almost everyone in the school. He always had a quirky smirk on his face. Unlike me, he was very involved in sports; I kept to theatre and chorus. JT played a few years of football and was an amazing basketball player; he played with such passion. Two loves were present in JT’s life, one being basketball, the other being Maddie. Not once did I ever hear anything negative about him, but that isn’t to say I didn’t hear about him. I would hear about him in the halls: how he scored the most points at last night’s game against our rival school, how he planned on taking Maddie to prom in a stretch limo, and once I heard about how he defended a mentally handicapped kid who was being bullied. I often passed him in the halls of Farmington High School. In a school of five hundred, it was hard not to pass someone at least twenty times, know someone’s name, or know his or her business. I doubt he ever heard about my business; unlike him I did not really have any to spread.
June 23rd, 2007, a day I can never forget. Nor will I. Some events in life are the ones we try to forget, but they seem to be engrained permanently in our minds, forever haunting us. We tell ourselves that we ought to forget them. Sometimes it is things that are important to us for some reason unknown to us. Sometimes it is a life altering event. This event was a life altering event for me. I do not even know if it should be. I do not know if it is greedy to claim this event that was not mine as an event that changed my perspective of life. I do not know why, but this day, June 23rd, stays fresh in my mind, constantly replaying in bits and pieces over and over again. Some pieces are void and I have forgotten the exact words that were spoken, but I cannot forget how I felt. Maybe, the reason why I can’t forget is because JT taught me the most important lesson in my life, and I barely knew him.
In the bright light of the early morning sun, I glanced in the mirror to scrutinize my attire for the day. My black heels clicked on the linoleum of the bathroom floor as I backed away from the mirror; I dressed my part perfectly. I never planned on this. I never wanted this. I never expected this. Just at that moment, my mother alerted me to my chauffeur’s presence. Riley, my comrade from the fire department, hugged me quickly, always there when I need him most.
We drove in silence to the Emmanuel Advent Church in our bordering city, Rochester, and pulled into the already packed parking-lot. Walking quickly, we made our way into the church building and found ourselves blending into the sea of black people, all crushed into this small, florally fragrant, room. Never had I seen such a melancholy lot. In the middle of this moving sea of black, there stood a tripod. No one looked directly at it, although I could catch some people looking at it, and then quickly looking away. I walked up to it, stood right in front of it, and gazed at it for a long moment. It was a beautiful collage. Snap-shots of JT’s life decorated the poster board. In the very middle of the collage was the picture taken right after he received his diploma, exactly one week ago. He was grinning in his black cap and gown, his orange flower standing out brashly against the black, his grin piercing. Beside the collage was a table topped with a bouquet of white lilies and a book with various signatures and messages. In these messages were praises of JT’s ambitions, written memories, loving thoughts, and numerously written was the phrase, “Only the good die young.”
I pressed past the ghost in the pictures, past the overly fragrant lilies and into the sanctuary. The air is hot and stuffy. The air is suffocating me, pressing in from all directions, thick and moist, smelling of yet even more lilies, women’s perfume and rank from the odor of hundred of fresh tears. The air carried the sounds of muffled sobs, sniffling, and the air carried the weight of a silence that coincided with the small sounds of grief. I felt oddly claustrophobic in the vast room. I pushed forward through those clamoring around the doorway and I calmly walked to the far back corner of the room which gave me an excellent view of those in the room. I observed the women who grasped and fiddled with their tissues, their faces a faint hue of red. I observed the men who leaned far over, their backs bowed over, head in their hands, trying to make it inconspicuous that they were crying. I observed my fellow class-mates, hugging one another, openly crying into one another’s shoulders, patting backs, stroking hair, comforting each other.
One class-mate I directly observed was previously a great friend to me, almost a brother. He was on the football team with JT and was friends with him as well. Sitting next to his mother in the pew, Chris Greeley leaned on her for support. She patted his light brown, extremely curly hair. I had never seen him so taken by grief before. Like the stereotypical football playing teen-aged boy, he would usually take grief and shake it off, but this time, grief shook him. His cousin, Scotty DePalma sat a few pews over with some family members. I distinctly recall seeing him cry openly. He, too, was on the football team with JT. However, the person who consumed my observation the most was Big Mikey Lemlin. He was one of JT’s good friends. He was the tough guy who was the biggest teddy-bear at the same time. Today, though, there was no tough guy present, purely the boy who was completely affected by the loss of a great friend. I caught only one glimpse of Maddie. She was not crying, but when I looked into her eyes, I knew she was not crying only because she had run out of tears. This event was so surreal to her. She was there at her boyfriend’s final hour. No seventeen year old girl, at the prime of her love-filled relationship, should be able to say that.
The words that were spoken were moving. The words that were spoken were filled with emotion and love and sincere grief. The words are nothing without the emotion. The Chaplain of the Fire Department, a religious man, and father of one of JT’s good friends, spoke. His words did not speak to me; what spoke to me was his anguish over the young man being laid to rest. JT’s aunt spoke over the charity and community spirit. She spoke of how our community bonded together in the time of tragedy. JT’s best friend spoke of the times they shared and the full life JT was able to live in his few short years. He regretted nothing in life because he lived his life to the fullest extent he could. The words of an unfamiliar hymn projected onto the spacious wall of the sanctuary and we sang to the memory of JT LaMantia. The words filled the audience with such remorse that many could not finish singing the hymn. There was no silence when the music ended. The room was filled with wails, sobs and nose blowing.
I wasn’t prepared for the intense emotion that followed. In the front of the room a few men stood up. They stepped past the floral displays and stood at either end of JT’s closed casket. I remember thinking how ironic it was that caskets were made to be so ornate and beautiful at this time of ugly emotion and hateful remorse. Those professional men picked up the casket and began the melancholy march down the center aisle. Big Mikey stood up, reverently, respecting his friend, and in one massive movement, the rest followed suit to watch JT’s final march. Of his short nineteen years on this earth, this was the most significant event, the end of his life. The sorrow in that room was palpable; I could feel it stinging my skin. I could feel the remorse in the tears gushing down my cheeks. It was tangible. I could reach my hand out and grasp at it in the air if I so desired and hold it there, in my hand. So, this was death; this is what death felt like to those who lived.
On June 19th, I heard my father’s fire scanner alert EMT and Fire responders of an incoming medical call. All my life I have heard these ridiculous scanners prattle off calls; I barely pay attention to them at all these days. For some strange reason, I heard this one. “Strafford to all Farmington Fire and EMS responders: please respond mutual-aid to Middleton, Sunrise Lake, for a nineteen year old male, not conscious, not breathing, was involved in a ski-doo accident.” ‘Middleton,’ I thought, ‘that is my neighboring town.’ I stared at the scanner as if it would say, “Cancel Farmington, call is ACTUALLY in Milton.” I don’t know anyone in Milton. Let this happen to someone else’s town. ‘Middleton,’ I thought, ‘kids from Middleton attend school in Farmington.’ Through that scanner, I heard the responders rush to the fire station, their frantic voices declaring their acknowledgement to the emergency. I heard the ambulance sign on marking its departure from downtown Farmington, a solid fifteen minutes away from Sunrise Lake at regular speed. I heard the ambulance as it wailed past my road, and following it the sirens of the engine truck. After that, silence.
Silence spans on for infinity. Thirty seconds seems like hours. Those five minutes lasted an eternity. I left my body behind, imagining who it could be. Maybe it was someone from a different state. Out-of-staters always get into SOME kind of trouble in New Hampshire. Maybe I misheard the age. Maybe the dispatcher said ‘ninety,’ not ‘nineteen.’ The dispatcher was known for mumbling, after all. But, what kind of a ninety year old male goes on a ski-doo? Silence creates insanity.
Finally, I heard a voice over the scanner. CPR was in progress. The EMTs did what is called a ‘scoop-n-go.’ If the person they are tending to has any hope, it is by getting them to the hospital as quickly as humanly possible. I heard no more from the scanner that night.
Myspace is the teenager’s best means of communication and sometimes it is man-kind’s curse. When I logged on I found dozens of bulletin posts informing everyone that someone, SOMEONE, died in a ski-doo accident in Middleton and that two others were injured, critically. The bulletins poured in dozen after dozen until a verdict was finally reached. JT LaMantia had passed away. The details were never shared with the public of how gruesome it was. Rumors spread that he died instantly. Other rumors spread that he received a concussion and then drowned. Some say he felt no pain, but how can we be sure of that? We can only hope.
JT, I never knew you very well, but I learned a great deal from you. You taught me a more valuable lesson than anyone here on this earth could teach me now. I learned the value of a minute. I learned the value of a loved one. Watching Maddie in so much pain scares me. I sometimes remember seeing her after your funeral opening up your old locker and placing a single red rose in there, then silently pressing the locker door shut knowing that you would never meet her there again. Your memory haunts her, I know it still does. She cried herself to sleep for months. “It is the dead, not the living, who make the longest demands.” (Antigone, Sophocles) JT, your demand will remain perpetually. Your demand was to live life; your demand was to love life.
Essay for Foundations English, 101.
In the peer reviews today, the only advice I had was to nix the part about graduation.
I added it for irony and parallelism. Key phrases are re-used in the part about the funeral.
Should I change anything? Make the parallelism more dramatic? Make it more ironic? I was trying to be subtle so that people had to relate to it more.. I don't want to be like "and it was ironic that one week ago the graduates of FHS were in black.. what common color."
Here are the reviews I got.
Reader one:
"The story is really touching! I could really feel myself being there and watching what you watched. I don't like the beginning though, it doesn't really have much to do w/ the whole point of your essay."
To the prompt of: "review the story, looking at the way the suspense builds and resovles itself. Does the drama lose intensity?" "I thought it was good. Drama and tension build. I wanted to keep reading to find out what happened.
To the prompt of: "Point to any descriptive details that are especially effective. Note any places that need for specific description. Also indicate unnecessary descriptions or irrelevant dialog." "I think the whole 'graduation' intro was irrelevant. Maybe just briefly talk about how the class about you had just graduated and it was a time to celebrate."
"You go from past to present a lot. Good conclusion! Great story! Really good sentence structure, for the most part. I was really into the story!"
Then she went thru my paper and I'm convinced that she doesn't appreciate creative writing. She nixed a properly used semi-colon. Here is the example: "I watched anxiously as my friends, my class-mates, and my high-school family walked past me; next year, it would be me in their place." Properly used. Excellent form, Smee! A semi colon brings together two independant clauses. The clause that those people passed me is one clause. The second is that next year it would be me in their place.
"He, unlike me, was the person that everyone knew." The corrector of my paper believes that instead of me, I should write "myself." She also says that that entire paragraph does not flow well. She also says that I should re-word the sentence: "I do not know if it is greedy to claim this event that was not mine as an event that changed my perspective of life." It makes sense to me, especially in context. Haha, she wasn't even consistent in correcting, cause I used "me" instead of "myself" in an identical sentenceeeee. She wasn't done, though. She wrote that I ought to re-word this sentence: "One class-mate I directly observed was previously a great friend to me, almost a brother." I don't find that sentence awkward or confusing. I shouldn't capitalize "Big Mikey" even though it is his nick-name.... and she didn't like my redundancy to make a big point. "The words that were spoken were moving. The words that were spoken were filled with emotion and love and grief." She says I ought to nix the whole second "the words that were spoken" and turn it into an "and."
The other peer-editor just praised my work. Yes, I like that, but come on, tear my paper apart just a smidge. I may complain about it, but it makes me doubt my work and second guess myself.
Now, more than ever, I want to be an editor. :P
So, I couldn't really stand seeing the girl edit my paper; I'm quite bad at taking critisism. But, nonetheless, I still want it.
This may be mostly to Bex, but edit my paper, please? :P I won't slam YOU on my blog... but that is because you're not a general snot in class as well.
Elena, my room-mate has been listening to the same song on repeat for the last 24 hours.. Nay, not listening to, meerly, singing along with.. Granted, I know I listen to the same songs sometimes time and time again...... but this is taking it to a new extreme.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Where is that old friend gone?
Lost in a February song. Tell him it won't be long till he opens his eyes.
This is all in a passive tone. Forgive me for being so passive. :P
I've been up all night thinking [and studying]. I want to be such a righteous person, this I know to be true; this I believe. However, when I'm constantly surrounded by deeds that are not righteous, it is difficu
lt to adhere to that goal. I'm not sure if I can stay in this dorm... I love the girls and it isn't as if they are Satan's workers, however, it seems like every temptation I've ever had issue with is present in this dorm. No, I'm positive that every tempation I've ever had is present here. I would like to be able to go up to my head resident and say "Hi, I am struggling with my room-mates struggles, can I have a new dorm?" That is weak. I want to be able to overcome my room-mates' struggles and mine own all at once. Swearing has been re-introduced into my life, something that I worked so hard to abolish from my common vernacular. Thoughts I haven't allowed myself to think in AGES have been re-thought because of late night conversations. I don't think such topics need to be discussed. It is difficult here, I'm not going to lie, and my testimony has been shaken a smidge. I have to say, testimony day back home is way more satisfying than testimony meeting here. Maybe it is merely because I know everyone back home.. maybe not. I think I miss hearing Cambry's testimony. =]
lt to adhere to that goal. I'm not sure if I can stay in this dorm... I love the girls and it isn't as if they are Satan's workers, however, it seems like every temptation I've ever had issue with is present in this dorm. No, I'm positive that every tempation I've ever had is present here. I would like to be able to go up to my head resident and say "Hi, I am struggling with my room-mates struggles, can I have a new dorm?" That is weak. I want to be able to overcome my room-mates' struggles and mine own all at once. Swearing has been re-introduced into my life, something that I worked so hard to abolish from my common vernacular. Thoughts I haven't allowed myself to think in AGES have been re-thought because of late night conversations. I don't think such topics need to be discussed. It is difficult here, I'm not going to lie, and my testimony has been shaken a smidge. I have to say, testimony day back home is way more satisfying than testimony meeting here. Maybe it is merely because I know everyone back home.. maybe not. I think I miss hearing Cambry's testimony. =]
I have been finding comfort around here, though. People of like mind who have similar struggles who WANT to work through their struggles, too, to find their way back home. I want that, too, and so being with this group of people was so completely uplifting. It was one of two very spiritual experiences here in Idaho and it was, without a doubt, the best night I have had in Idaho since the big move out here.
Just...... jump. Jump into whatever your obstacle may be. Don't look before you leap, leap with faith that you'll land safely. This is my crazy friend, Garrett, jumping from my dorm's balcony. Yes, this is the only entertainment in Rexburg on any given afternoon.. aside from cow-tipping.
P.S.- Yes, it is legit 4:45 in the morning. Yes, I stayed up all night. Yes, I will be staying up all night again for another test. Hip hip hooray. They test us constantly here. It reminds me of back home. Rawr.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Okay, for real
This is the best one I have ever done. IF YOU DO THIS, DO NOT LOOK AT THE RESULTS FIRST.
1)There is a cube.
How big is the cube? The same height as I.
What is its color? What do you think about that color? All colors
How far away is it from you? Right in front of me.
Is it transparent? Can you see what is inside? No.. like, you can catch some blurry shadows, but you can't see exactly what is inside.
How big is the cube compared to the desert? What is the ratio? The desert goes on as far as the eye can see, but the cube is just a speck in the desert.
2) There is a ladder.
Is the ladder leaning on the cube? Yes.
What is the color of the ladder? What is it made of? It is a reddish brown made of stained maple.
What impression does it give you? It isn't in use, but it could be at any moment.
What is the distance between the cube and the ladder? Err, it's leaning on the cube... so directly touching the cube.
3) There is a horse.
What is the distance between the cube and the horse? about a dozen feet.
What is the color of the horse? Dark chestnut brown.
What impression does it give you? It's positively beautiful and powerful.
Is it tied? Is there a saddle? No and no. Haha. It is standing in front of a post where it could be tied, but it is not.
4) There is a storm.What is the distance between the storm and the cube. It is on the horizon where you can see the lightning strikes, but just barely.
Is it a big storm or a small storm?It's big.
Is it passing by or staying? It's going to go near me, but not over-head.
5) There is a flower/ there are flowers.
How many flowers are there? a few dozen.
Where is/are the flower/s? Inside the cube.
What is the color of the flower/s?A deep deep red.
How do you feel about the flower/s? they are beautiful but not accessable.
Answers:Cube : The cube represents yourself. How you think about the cube reflects how you think about yourself. For example, you may think the cube is made of yellow stones. Yellow may give you a feeling of warmth and stone may give you a feeling of strength. Then, it means that you believe that you are a strong and warm person. The distance between you and the cube reflects your understanding about yourself. If the cube is far away, then it means that you do not feel close to your inner self. If the cube is transparent, that means you let people see through you. People can read your mind easily. The ratio of the cube to the desert is how you think about yourself in this world. The bigger the ratio, the bigger your ego is. A small ratio means that you recognize that you are just one part of this world and there are many other things out there beside you.
Ladder : The ladder represents your friends. If the ladder is leaning against the cube, then it means that your friends depend on you. If the ladder is supporting the cube, that means you depend on your friends. The distance between the ladder and the cube indicates if you feel close to your friends or not. Again, how you feel about the ladder reflects how you feel about your friends (e.g.. what you feel about the color of the ladder and the material it is made of).
Horse : The horse is your lover. If the horse is close to the cube, then it means that you are close to your lover. If the horse is tied or has a saddle on it, then it means that you like to control your lover. As before, the impression of the horse reflects the impression you have of your lover.
Storm : The storm is the obstacle in your life. If the storm is close to the cube/ stationary, then you are always experiencing hardship in your life. If the storm is small, then it means the obstacle in your life is quite small.
Flower/s : The flower represents your offspring/ If the flower is close to the cube, that means you are close to your children. Again, what you feel about the flower indicates the feelings you have towards your children.
1)There is a cube.
How big is the cube? The same height as I.
What is its color? What do you think about that color? All colors
How far away is it from you? Right in front of me.
Is it transparent? Can you see what is inside? No.. like, you can catch some blurry shadows, but you can't see exactly what is inside.
How big is the cube compared to the desert? What is the ratio? The desert goes on as far as the eye can see, but the cube is just a speck in the desert.
2) There is a ladder.
Is the ladder leaning on the cube? Yes.
What is the color of the ladder? What is it made of? It is a reddish brown made of stained maple.
What impression does it give you? It isn't in use, but it could be at any moment.
What is the distance between the cube and the ladder? Err, it's leaning on the cube... so directly touching the cube.
3) There is a horse.
What is the distance between the cube and the horse? about a dozen feet.
What is the color of the horse? Dark chestnut brown.
What impression does it give you? It's positively beautiful and powerful.
Is it tied? Is there a saddle? No and no. Haha. It is standing in front of a post where it could be tied, but it is not.
4) There is a storm.What is the distance between the storm and the cube. It is on the horizon where you can see the lightning strikes, but just barely.
Is it a big storm or a small storm?It's big.
Is it passing by or staying? It's going to go near me, but not over-head.
5) There is a flower/ there are flowers.
How many flowers are there? a few dozen.
Where is/are the flower/s? Inside the cube.
What is the color of the flower/s?A deep deep red.
How do you feel about the flower/s? they are beautiful but not accessable.
Answers:Cube : The cube represents yourself. How you think about the cube reflects how you think about yourself. For example, you may think the cube is made of yellow stones. Yellow may give you a feeling of warmth and stone may give you a feeling of strength. Then, it means that you believe that you are a strong and warm person. The distance between you and the cube reflects your understanding about yourself. If the cube is far away, then it means that you do not feel close to your inner self. If the cube is transparent, that means you let people see through you. People can read your mind easily. The ratio of the cube to the desert is how you think about yourself in this world. The bigger the ratio, the bigger your ego is. A small ratio means that you recognize that you are just one part of this world and there are many other things out there beside you.
Ladder : The ladder represents your friends. If the ladder is leaning against the cube, then it means that your friends depend on you. If the ladder is supporting the cube, that means you depend on your friends. The distance between the ladder and the cube indicates if you feel close to your friends or not. Again, how you feel about the ladder reflects how you feel about your friends (e.g.. what you feel about the color of the ladder and the material it is made of).
Horse : The horse is your lover. If the horse is close to the cube, then it means that you are close to your lover. If the horse is tied or has a saddle on it, then it means that you like to control your lover. As before, the impression of the horse reflects the impression you have of your lover.
Storm : The storm is the obstacle in your life. If the storm is close to the cube/ stationary, then you are always experiencing hardship in your life. If the storm is small, then it means the obstacle in your life is quite small.
Flower/s : The flower represents your offspring/ If the flower is close to the cube, that means you are close to your children. Again, what you feel about the flower indicates the feelings you have towards your children.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Brittany's Birfdayy!
The last two days have been spectacular. =] Gabe and I talked and are at an understanding... granted he still doesn't like Nate, but, oh well. He has been super sweet.. I think I scared him by using the phrase, "We need to talk." hah. Those who know Gabe will be shocked when I state this: he has opened doors for me [plural], asks if it is okay to make racy comments around my room-mates, and he will admit that I am right about something. That last one almost NEVER happened before. Dang ego. =]
Rest assured that with a heart that's pure, we'll be victorious, and not let our hate get the best of us. -Set Your Goals.
I wicked miss the Eastern music scene. =[
I'm writing a paper about JT for English class. Well, not about JT so much, but about what JT taught me. It's strange how someone you don't know can make such an impression in your life. I'll think about putting it in my blog; I like posting my papers in my blog. HA.
I have to clean and go to bed. =[ Class at nine am.. American Foundations... snooooze.. then Science, which is a wicked hard class, then Math. And on top of all that I have a Math QUIZ and Gabe's hockey game to attend. HOORAY. Then studying all weekend for an American Foundations test and a Science test. UGH.
Rest assured that with a heart that's pure, we'll be victorious, and not let our hate get the best of us. -Set Your Goals.
I wicked miss the Eastern music scene. =[
I'm writing a paper about JT for English class. Well, not about JT so much, but about what JT taught me. It's strange how someone you don't know can make such an impression in your life. I'll think about putting it in my blog; I like posting my papers in my blog. HA.
I have to clean and go to bed. =[ Class at nine am.. American Foundations... snooooze.. then Science, which is a wicked hard class, then Math. And on top of all that I have a Math QUIZ and Gabe's hockey game to attend. HOORAY. Then studying all weekend for an American Foundations test and a Science test. UGH.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Don't assume anything:
I'm venting.
I don't like when you judge me. This includes judging my friends. Sarai was not, nor ever will be, flirting with me. I don't like when you judge that since I am a girl I can't do ...... [insert something here.] Just because I want to be a house-wife and a mom doesn't mean that that is all I am good for.
Respect me, please. I'm nice and I'm forgiving, but don't take advantage of that. I don't talk about my exes in front of you; I don't want to hear about yours. I don't tell you how hott guys on campus are; I don't want to know who you think is attractive on campus.
Trust me. I don't feel like you trust me completely. In order for this to work, you need to trust me. I know I broke your trust once, but I promised you I wouldn't do it again. People all around me want me to break your trust. I don't do well with peer pressure, but I care enough NOT to do that to you. You think I am about to run off with some RM who wants to be married next month? I would hope that you would know me a little better than that, for real. He is my friend. The end.
The future. I want to know if this is for real. Am I for real. What do I mean to you? Am I a fling before your mission so that you can go to wherever you go and say "yeah, I had a relationship that I left. She is my best friend now. Maybe she'll get married while I am on my mission." I hope you know how much that does hurt already. You said you don't want to think about the future or make plans for the future because you don't want to hurt me? Saying THAT hurts me. You think of me as a temporary thing. Again? I want to know if I'm wasting time on you.
Bossiness. I don't deserve to be bossed around. I am my own person who can think for myself. I am my own boss. Sounds childish to say it like that, but it is childish to boss around a girl. Treat me like your girlfriend, not like some ho. I don't like how things are up to you. I am in this relationship, too. That means fifty, fifty. Sound familiar? Sometimes I will want things different than what you want... so, figure out what I want... Don't demand things from me.
I love you, so completely, and I want to work things out, for real. But, don't take advantage of who I am and how forgiving I am, because I am tired of guys taking advantage of how nice I am; taking advantage of how much of a pushover I can be. I don't want to be mean, but I want to defend myself. I want to be able to say "I am Cat, and this is who I am, how I am, and how you will treat me." You and I have a lot in common, that much is true. I love you, I love your personality, I love your talents, I love your quirks, I love your laugh, I love your smile, I love the twinkle in your eyes, I love your patience when you try to explain fallacies to me... again, I love your randomness. It's up to you now, babe. Here are the conditions, here are the questions. You know what I need and now, it's up to you.
I don't like when you judge me. This includes judging my friends. Sarai was not, nor ever will be, flirting with me. I don't like when you judge that since I am a girl I can't do ...... [insert something here.] Just because I want to be a house-wife and a mom doesn't mean that that is all I am good for.
Respect me, please. I'm nice and I'm forgiving, but don't take advantage of that. I don't talk about my exes in front of you; I don't want to hear about yours. I don't tell you how hott guys on campus are; I don't want to know who you think is attractive on campus.
Trust me. I don't feel like you trust me completely. In order for this to work, you need to trust me. I know I broke your trust once, but I promised you I wouldn't do it again. People all around me want me to break your trust. I don't do well with peer pressure, but I care enough NOT to do that to you. You think I am about to run off with some RM who wants to be married next month? I would hope that you would know me a little better than that, for real. He is my friend. The end.
The future. I want to know if this is for real. Am I for real. What do I mean to you? Am I a fling before your mission so that you can go to wherever you go and say "yeah, I had a relationship that I left. She is my best friend now. Maybe she'll get married while I am on my mission." I hope you know how much that does hurt already. You said you don't want to think about the future or make plans for the future because you don't want to hurt me? Saying THAT hurts me. You think of me as a temporary thing. Again? I want to know if I'm wasting time on you.
Bossiness. I don't deserve to be bossed around. I am my own person who can think for myself. I am my own boss. Sounds childish to say it like that, but it is childish to boss around a girl. Treat me like your girlfriend, not like some ho. I don't like how things are up to you. I am in this relationship, too. That means fifty, fifty. Sound familiar? Sometimes I will want things different than what you want... so, figure out what I want... Don't demand things from me.
I love you, so completely, and I want to work things out, for real. But, don't take advantage of who I am and how forgiving I am, because I am tired of guys taking advantage of how nice I am; taking advantage of how much of a pushover I can be. I don't want to be mean, but I want to defend myself. I want to be able to say "I am Cat, and this is who I am, how I am, and how you will treat me." You and I have a lot in common, that much is true. I love you, I love your personality, I love your talents, I love your quirks, I love your laugh, I love your smile, I love the twinkle in your eyes, I love your patience when you try to explain fallacies to me... again, I love your randomness. It's up to you now, babe. Here are the conditions, here are the questions. You know what I need and now, it's up to you.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Home-ness
Used. That is what I am. Used goods.
I'm the person who does as she is told, even if it is by inferior beings.
I put other's needs in front of mine own. I don't know if this is selflessness or stupidness.
It's taking a toll on me, my health and my grades.
I live with a perfectionist who is upset over a 96 on a test and project...
I'm getting 85's in like, all my classes. If she keeps whining, I may resent her.
I will be a housewife. No, this is not resignation. I want to be the woman who helps her family. I'm a people-pleaser by nature, so I want to stay home to please my family, and to provide a good enviornment for my future children to grow up in.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
I am your own Pandora.
I'm so depressed... and I don't really know what to do about it. Everything is going right, but it still ends up wrong. I dropped a class, so I should be feeling more at ease, but I'm still wicked stressed about it. Yes, this is me complaining.
A dying withering tree alone in a field. What symbolism. What truth. Empty and decaying with overcast skies hovering overhead.
I am futile. I am a negative affect on him. I am not helping him, in fact, I am reversing any positive advances he had. I am Pandora.
"Pandora, I don't know how you charmed your way into my heart and I don't know how you snuck your way into my arms, but I know that I'll regret what I did and I know I'll regret it forever as I throw my life away, Pandora."
Thursday, January 8, 2009
I dislike flying a smidge... so I attempted to sleep... and failed. Cloud cover was obstructing my view completely, so I had no idea where I was. So, I read my book and listened to my life saver, my iPod. Finally, when the cloud cover dispersed, this is what I saw.It is completely gorgeous. I can't stand how amazing it is out here.
I just miss the ocean.
And the air is so thin here. I can hardly breathe.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Adrenaline
I love snow storms and the fact that we've gotten 20 inches in about three days. This is on top of the ice storm we had maybe two weeks ago? This winter is off to a marvelous start. But what I love the most about snow storms is driving in the snow. However, the whole preparing to go out in the snow is not the most spectacular part. Brushing off the car, warming up the car, shoveling out the car. Not my favorite thing to do. And if you ever get to be passenger to my snow-driving, you'd insist that I despise driving in the snow. I yell at slow drivers doing 15 miles an hour. I yell at my car for fish-tailing so easily. I just yell. I love going fast in the snow. And by fast I completely mean 40 miles an hour. I love it when the roads aren't plowed. I LOVE fish-tailing when I plan to fish-tail. I love the thrill of knowing I am in control of a car in crazy conditions. I also, oddly enough, love knowing that one bad move could land me in a ditch, or maybe even worse. But where is the fun if there is no danger? Love means so much more if you know that it could end at any time. Life means so much more if you know it could end at any time. Why bother surviving when you could be living? Living doesn't mean living life with constant stupidity, just, take a chance, do something no one would expect of you. Live. Dream. Believe.
Live always.
Dream always.
Believe always.
Live always.
Dream always.
Believe always.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Monty Pythonnn!
So, let me just say, I'm going to freakin' miss Bex [thesex] like, you have NO idea. She is the voice in the back of my head; my voice of reason.. and it's pretty flippin' weird sometimes. Like, I'll ask questions that aren't mine just because I know she has that question... yep. Strange. She's mah soul sistah.
Haha, went shopping with Ashlee todayyy.
I feel so bad for that girl. She seriously gets scarred for life every time she is around Becca and I. Becca and I... we have no conversation boundaries... and Ashlee.... she hears all that Bex and I talk about. HAHA. Probably way more than she ever wanted to know. So, Ashleeee, this is our apology. :P
And again,
NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETLY DIFFERENT!
Haha, went shopping with Ashlee todayyy.
I feel so bad for that girl. She seriously gets scarred for life every time she is around Becca and I. Becca and I... we have no conversation boundaries... and Ashlee.... she hears all that Bex and I talk about. HAHA. Probably way more than she ever wanted to know. So, Ashleeee, this is our apology. :P
And again,
NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETLY DIFFERENT!
lolerskates, roflcopter
I love reading old posts;
it makes me realize how pathetic I can be.
And, it makes me realize that I care too much...
about stupid idiotic boys who always try to wreak crazy havoc.
I think I'm going to start caring less. :P
EDIT:
I'm done caring about guys who are ridiculous.
Like, the ones who are so demeaning.. the ones who go "you have a HUUUGE zit forming" then the next day go "what are you going to do with that zit of yours?!" then the day after that say "you know, I'd get rid of that if I were you.."
Do you have any idea what its like to have a guy who says "will you please remove your makeup? I can't stand it!" and when you do, he goes "oh, THERE'S CAT, I was wondering where she was! She is so beautiful without the makeup."
And now for something completely different:
[this is why I love potatoes so much]
it makes me realize how pathetic I can be.
And, it makes me realize that I care too much...
about stupid idiotic boys who always try to wreak crazy havoc.
I think I'm going to start caring less. :P
EDIT:
I'm done caring about guys who are ridiculous.
Like, the ones who are so demeaning.. the ones who go "you have a HUUUGE zit forming" then the next day go "what are you going to do with that zit of yours?!" then the day after that say "you know, I'd get rid of that if I were you.."
Do you have any idea what its like to have a guy who says "will you please remove your makeup? I can't stand it!" and when you do, he goes "oh, THERE'S CAT, I was wondering where she was! She is so beautiful without the makeup."
And now for something completely different:
[this is why I love potatoes so much]
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Revenge of sense?
Is this your revenge?!
Slander?
Make my future family to say:
"Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?"
[Pride and Prejudice]
You're insufferable.
Slander?
Make my future family to say:
"Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?"
[Pride and Prejudice]
You're insufferable.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
antidisestablishmentarianism
If you haven
If you are an avid fangi
I find those
Its ONE thing
If you don'
Nope,
pathe
Examp
The Pro-
Lets start
Okay,
Someo
Bite me now!
Of highe
On one anti-
"For all that despi
Edwar
1. I will creep
2. I contr
3. SHE CAN'
4. I'm extre
5. We talk about
6. I like Bella
7. Left Bella
8. Be more of a serio
9. I'M AN OLD MAN PREYI
Oh wait what?
_
Bella
1. ZOMG MI FAVUR
2. I hate my dad even thoug