I don't know. I kind of have mixed feelings about this "genre" of writing. On one level, I dislike the idea of sharing things with everyone who has access to the internet. On another, I kind of enjoy the idea of keeping a journal online, since it is much easier to access, store, and add personal design. Honestly, I don't think that I would ever keep a blog where people I knew had access to it. I'm a little weird: I wouldn't really care if a bunch of strangers were reading what I wrote, but I don't want anyone close to me to do it.
I don't know if I really learned anything specific from doing this blog, but it was an interesting experience. I don't exactly hate blogging, as I stated in a previous post, but I don't love it, either.
Monday, April 9, 2012
Peer Revision
One of the most frustrating parts about writing class is peer revision. Not that I don't appreciate criticism. In fact, I love having people tell me what I need to fix in my papers, especially when I think that there is something that I need to fix. No, what I dislike about peer revision is that there is so rarely any real "revising" occurring.
So often during peer revisions - both in high school and in college - I finish looking over my partner's paper with a long list of suggestions to give to them, where some things don't seem to fit, where something could be added, grammar mistakes, etc. But then they turn to me and say "Oh, your paper looks good." That's it. No suggestions, no comments on how or why it was good or where I could possibly make it better. It's just... "good."
Now, first off, this doesn't help me at all. For all I know, they didn't even read my paper. They could have simply been staring at the sheets for ten minutes thinking about their next class, the television show that's coming on tonight, or their date that night. Without some sort of feedback, I don't know how my paper actually holds up. Second, they tell me that my paper is good, and now I have to rattle off this long list of why their paper isn't? I never actually phrase it that way, and I rarely think it, but that is how it sounds coming right after they complement mine. In fact, in situations like this, it is actually worse if they tell me why my paper is good.
Anyways, I don't really care if you thought my paper was absolutely amazing, it is far more helpful to me (and it makes me much less concerned) if peer reviewers actually tell me something that wasn't "good" about my paper. Tell me something that I need to fix, even if the rest of the paper is perfect. Even if it is minor, I would rather hear about it than about how my paper has absolutely no issues whatsoever. That actually makes me freak out a little (unless the teacher says it) thinking that there is something major that we are both missing.
It really is a lot more comforting and satisfying when peer reviewers really try to find something that needs to be fixed in a paper. That is what I always try to do when I am reviewing others, even if it makes me feel a little harsh sometimes.
So often during peer revisions - both in high school and in college - I finish looking over my partner's paper with a long list of suggestions to give to them, where some things don't seem to fit, where something could be added, grammar mistakes, etc. But then they turn to me and say "Oh, your paper looks good." That's it. No suggestions, no comments on how or why it was good or where I could possibly make it better. It's just... "good."
Now, first off, this doesn't help me at all. For all I know, they didn't even read my paper. They could have simply been staring at the sheets for ten minutes thinking about their next class, the television show that's coming on tonight, or their date that night. Without some sort of feedback, I don't know how my paper actually holds up. Second, they tell me that my paper is good, and now I have to rattle off this long list of why their paper isn't? I never actually phrase it that way, and I rarely think it, but that is how it sounds coming right after they complement mine. In fact, in situations like this, it is actually worse if they tell me why my paper is good.
Anyways, I don't really care if you thought my paper was absolutely amazing, it is far more helpful to me (and it makes me much less concerned) if peer reviewers actually tell me something that wasn't "good" about my paper. Tell me something that I need to fix, even if the rest of the paper is perfect. Even if it is minor, I would rather hear about it than about how my paper has absolutely no issues whatsoever. That actually makes me freak out a little (unless the teacher says it) thinking that there is something major that we are both missing.
It really is a lot more comforting and satisfying when peer reviewers really try to find something that needs to be fixed in a paper. That is what I always try to do when I am reviewing others, even if it makes me feel a little harsh sometimes.
Authors, Part 2
So, having read some of Brandon Sanderson's novels, I assumed that I had a good take on his writing and authoring abilities. I was wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong.
Sanderson is also finishing my all-time favorite series, "The Wheel of Time," after the original author died a few years ago. Sadly, he has not done as well in this series as he has in his own books. Now, I do not know for sure whether or not what I am complaining about was done by Sanderson or by the original author, but it just feels like Sanderson's work. The series is extremely long - fourteen books total - and Sanderson began working on it in the twelfth book. The entire series is about the struggles of humanity against an encroaching evil that is threatening to break loose and destroy the world. A prophesied hero has been born in the form of a simple farmer who finds himself running for his life from the forces of said evil, ignorant of why. He and several of his village friends find themselves caught up in something huge, struggling to reconcile themselves with the duties and responsibilities that have been placed upon them. They fight, they love, and they do their best to put aside their own desires in order to do what must be done. They struggle and sacrifice so much - both externally and internally, fighting tyrants, monsters, fear, and madness - and it fosters a deep connection with the characters. Even more than in Sanderson's novels, these characters are real. They have given up so much to save the world, everything has to end well. And you know that through all the struggle and heartache, the story will end well. Good will prevail and evil will be vanquished. Humanity will be saved.
But then, Sanderson comes in and tells you that you were wrong. He slaps the readers in the face with a horrifying scene looking into the future. Did good ultimately prevail? Sort of. The force of evil was defeated and the very fabric of the universe was saved, but nothing else is right. Brutal invaders have conquered the entire world, enslaving thousands with horrible devices that give their slaves less freedom than a dog. And they might as well be dogs, pets to be rewarded or punished with impunity. The great nomad civilization - fiercely loyal to the main character and the main reason for his success, who style their lives on honor and duty to their people - have been reduced to scavengers, rummaging through the discards of passing travelers or murdering them for their food. In effect, Sanderson is telling his readers that the entire story was pointless. Humanity survives, but only to be enslaved by merciless tyrants.
This one scene, only ten pages long in a series of over ten thousand pages, nearly convinced me to just stop. What was the point? The ending wasn't even remotely happy. No matter how the series itself ends, I will never be able to forget that scene. There is not "if" about the future, no chance that it can change. It is inevitable, and so the books were pointless. Why read them if they are going to end so horribly, especially after they developed such a strong emotional bond between the readers and the characters? That one scene was, in my opinion, the biggest literary blunder of all time.There is nothing that I can think of that can possible repair this mistake.
The most important part of a book is the author. He or she will make or break the story, and can take the worst idea in the world and make it into something amazing. Unfortunately, an author can also do the exact opposite.
Authors, Part 1
One of the greatest joys in life, in my own personal opinion, is reading. I love to sit down and read a good book for hours on end. I enjoy reading so much, that I have actually lightly considered becoming a librarian just so I could spend my entire day with books. I probably wouldn't make a very good librarian, though - I would spend too much of my time reading the books and not enough time librarianing.
The two most important factors of a good novel are the author and the subject, and let's be honest - the second one is kind of optional. I have read so many books whose plot lines sound absolutely ridiculous. The "Furies of Calderon" series, for instance, was allegedly a combination of the Roman legions and Pokemon, which doesn't sound like it would make for a very good story. But good authors can turn even the most unusual ideas into amazing, enthralling tales. The author is truly what makes or breaks a book.
Unfortunately, even good authors can make mistakes in their writing. One author that I really like is Brandon Sanderson, a creative writing professor here at BYU. He is an amazing author: he comes up with amazing stories and wonderful characters, but his greatest skill (in my opinion) is his ability to create entirely new worlds in amazing detail. All of his books take place in entirely foreign settings, with strange plants and animals and even stranger cultures. Of his books that I have read, all are based in some horribly devastated land where life has had to adapt to harsh conditions in order to survive. His "world-building," as it is called, is a large part of what draws me into his books.
Another major aspect of Sanderson's writing is the fact that the stories are far more realistic than many. Yes, the protagonists win, the forces of evil are defeated and humanity survives, but there is a cost. Central characters do die, there are casualties, and the books don't lead directly into a "happily-ever-after" ending. In his "Mistborn" series, for instance, one of the two main characters dies in the very first book - martyrs himself, in fact. And, by the end of the series the majority of the main and central characters have died and an entire species has committed mass suicide. Sounds depressing, right? It is. But it makes it that much more interesting, because it is more real.
Brandon Sanderson is able to turn a set of depressing events into an interesting and engaging story that leaves you satisfied and happy at the end. That is a mark of a good author. Not everyone can do this - some depressing stories are just that: depressing. It doesn't matter what the author does, they just can't make the story good. This is why I kept reading Sanderson's other books.
To be continued...
The two most important factors of a good novel are the author and the subject, and let's be honest - the second one is kind of optional. I have read so many books whose plot lines sound absolutely ridiculous. The "Furies of Calderon" series, for instance, was allegedly a combination of the Roman legions and Pokemon, which doesn't sound like it would make for a very good story. But good authors can turn even the most unusual ideas into amazing, enthralling tales. The author is truly what makes or breaks a book.
Unfortunately, even good authors can make mistakes in their writing. One author that I really like is Brandon Sanderson, a creative writing professor here at BYU. He is an amazing author: he comes up with amazing stories and wonderful characters, but his greatest skill (in my opinion) is his ability to create entirely new worlds in amazing detail. All of his books take place in entirely foreign settings, with strange plants and animals and even stranger cultures. Of his books that I have read, all are based in some horribly devastated land where life has had to adapt to harsh conditions in order to survive. His "world-building," as it is called, is a large part of what draws me into his books.
Another major aspect of Sanderson's writing is the fact that the stories are far more realistic than many. Yes, the protagonists win, the forces of evil are defeated and humanity survives, but there is a cost. Central characters do die, there are casualties, and the books don't lead directly into a "happily-ever-after" ending. In his "Mistborn" series, for instance, one of the two main characters dies in the very first book - martyrs himself, in fact. And, by the end of the series the majority of the main and central characters have died and an entire species has committed mass suicide. Sounds depressing, right? It is. But it makes it that much more interesting, because it is more real.
Brandon Sanderson is able to turn a set of depressing events into an interesting and engaging story that leaves you satisfied and happy at the end. That is a mark of a good author. Not everyone can do this - some depressing stories are just that: depressing. It doesn't matter what the author does, they just can't make the story good. This is why I kept reading Sanderson's other books.
To be continued...
Lucid Dreams
So, I had an interesting discussion with my roommates a few weeks ago about lucid dreams. I had heard about them before - dreams where you are aware that you are dreaming, so you are able to control them - but I had never had one before. My roommates talked about a few that they had, and, I have to tell you, they sound pretty cool.
Ever since then, I have really wanted to have one. Unfortunately, they aren't something that you can just will to happen. But then, one night I was dreaming and I started thinking about lucid dreams... while I was dreaming. It was a little weird, especially when I realized that I was actually dreaming! I realized that I was actually having a lucid dream right then, and I was able to control it to an extent. I made a steering wheel fly out of a passing car and float over to me. Then I did some other weird stuff, and I think I eventually settled back into a normal dream.
This was a really cool experience, and I wish that I could repeat it.
Ever since then, I have really wanted to have one. Unfortunately, they aren't something that you can just will to happen. But then, one night I was dreaming and I started thinking about lucid dreams... while I was dreaming. It was a little weird, especially when I realized that I was actually dreaming! I realized that I was actually having a lucid dream right then, and I was able to control it to an extent. I made a steering wheel fly out of a passing car and float over to me. Then I did some other weird stuff, and I think I eventually settled back into a normal dream.
This was a really cool experience, and I wish that I could repeat it.
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Blogging
I have come to a conclusion. I hate blogging.
This comes from a number of reasons, and not just because I procrastinated doing the mandatory blog posts until the last minute, leaving me with an impossible amount to do in a very short time. The very idea of a blog just seems... bland... to me.
Generally, I have nothing of interest that I would share on a blog, and anything that would be of interest is usually of a personally nature, which I do not feel comfortable putting online for just anyone to read. I honestly do not find this kind of thing enjoyable. It is like a facebook where all your statuses have to be ridiculously long and anyone can come along and read it.
I don't find this enjoyable, and I don't see a point to it. I don't mean to sound angry or anything, but that is how it is.
This comes from a number of reasons, and not just because I procrastinated doing the mandatory blog posts until the last minute, leaving me with an impossible amount to do in a very short time. The very idea of a blog just seems... bland... to me.
Generally, I have nothing of interest that I would share on a blog, and anything that would be of interest is usually of a personally nature, which I do not feel comfortable putting online for just anyone to read. I honestly do not find this kind of thing enjoyable. It is like a facebook where all your statuses have to be ridiculously long and anyone can come along and read it.
I don't find this enjoyable, and I don't see a point to it. I don't mean to sound angry or anything, but that is how it is.
Sustaining
Today in church (along with the usual Easter topics) we had a lesson on sustaining our leaders. It was a very good lesson, and a little enlightening. So often, during our weekly meetings, we are asked to sustain our leaders or our fellow members in their callings, but it seems that we very rarely think about what we are actually doing. When we raise our hands to sustain them, we are showing that we will be willing to support them in their callings and do whatever we can to help them fulfill their responsibilities.
Do we realize this? Do we know what we are committing ourselves to when we raise our hands? We are committing to always support them and go along with their decisions in their callings, even if we dislike them. I have heard so many people complain about leaders and teachers in the church who they don't agree with or don't think well of, and yet they agreed to sustain them along with the rest of the ward. We need to be aware of what we are committing to, and we need to live up to that commitment.
I know that I have had problems with this, and I am trying to fix that and truly sustain my leaders and teachers.
Do we realize this? Do we know what we are committing ourselves to when we raise our hands? We are committing to always support them and go along with their decisions in their callings, even if we dislike them. I have heard so many people complain about leaders and teachers in the church who they don't agree with or don't think well of, and yet they agreed to sustain them along with the rest of the ward. We need to be aware of what we are committing to, and we need to live up to that commitment.
I know that I have had problems with this, and I am trying to fix that and truly sustain my leaders and teachers.
Easter
Going through the day and all the church meetings and other Easter activities, I really began to see the significance of the Easter holiday. Before this, I had still mostly been in the "holiday" mindset - candy, the Easter bunny, lots of church activities, candy, etc, candy. But, for the first time, I really thought about this holiday and what it means to us. Easter is the time when we celebrate essentially everything that the Lord has done for us, and specifically for the Atonement.
A lot of other faiths say that Easter is the time when we celebrate Christ's death, but so many of our own prophets and apostles and other leaders have repeatedly told us that Easter is a time to celebrate Christ's life - specifically through His resurrection. This is so true. Why would we celebrate Christ's death? Would it not make more sense to celebrate something less... mundane? Everyone dies. It isn't that unique of an event. But the fact that Christ rose from the dead is very unique. He opened the way for us to be resurrected as well, but not through His death. Only through His resurrection was this made possible.
More than this, though, it struck me just how much we owe to Christ and His sacrifice. Without what he did for us, we could not progress. We would be stuck where we are, with no chance of returning to our Heavenly Father, and we wouldn't even have bodies. Christ gave up everything so that we wouldn't have to. It is so important that we know and remember this, especially today. We need to take advantage of what He has done for us. He gave us the opportunity, now we have to use it.
A lot of other faiths say that Easter is the time when we celebrate Christ's death, but so many of our own prophets and apostles and other leaders have repeatedly told us that Easter is a time to celebrate Christ's life - specifically through His resurrection. This is so true. Why would we celebrate Christ's death? Would it not make more sense to celebrate something less... mundane? Everyone dies. It isn't that unique of an event. But the fact that Christ rose from the dead is very unique. He opened the way for us to be resurrected as well, but not through His death. Only through His resurrection was this made possible.
More than this, though, it struck me just how much we owe to Christ and His sacrifice. Without what he did for us, we could not progress. We would be stuck where we are, with no chance of returning to our Heavenly Father, and we wouldn't even have bodies. Christ gave up everything so that we wouldn't have to. It is so important that we know and remember this, especially today. We need to take advantage of what He has done for us. He gave us the opportunity, now we have to use it.
Saturday, April 7, 2012
Gamer Ethos
So, in my Writing 150 class we learned about the three elements of communication: pathos, logos, and ethos. Pathos is the emotional appeal to listeners, logos is the logical appeal, and ethos is the speaker/writer/presenter's own personal credibility. I have noticed these elements a lot since I learned about them, but what struck me greatly was the effects that ethos specifically has in the world of gaming.
Now, I'm not exactly a huge gamer - I play a few games, but not to the point of obsessiveness - but I have noticed a few things when I do play these. The game that I play the most is called "League of Legends." It is an online, multiplayer game where to teams try to invade and destroy their opponents' base. One of the biggest aspects of this game is its reliance on teamwork and trust. Even when the players are total strangers (as they "often are) they have to be able to work together and rely on one another.
Now, gamers can be quite a varied bunch. There are the casual gamers, like myself, who are just there to have fun and play the game. Then there are the professional gamers - players whose entire lives revolve around the game and who actually form their own teams to compete in tournaments and contests. And, finally, there are the "hardcore" gamers - the players who don't care enough or aren't skilled enough to play professionally, but the game is their entire life, and you'd better not mess them up or their gonna come burn your house down. It's hard to believe, but there really are players who think like that.
A lot of times, though, these "hardcore" gamers can be pretty good, and they usually know how the game works, and how to win. Unfortunately, they generally don't do a very good job of establishing ethos with their teammates. They make crude jokes, insult other's mistakes, and generally display a negative attitude. If you die too often, you are automatically a "noob," and you will be told so repeatedly throughout the game. However, if you do well, you are not complimented. These players come across as rude, mean, and self-centered. So, when a team is behind and they try to tell their teammates what to do, they are ignored (leading, of course, to more "noob"-ranting). Through their actions, they tell their teammates that they do not have any real credibility, and should not be listened to. This leads almost inevitably to defeat. If these gamers only understood how to establish a good ethos, they would be able to gain their team's respect and possibly pull their team to a victory.
Just some quick thoughts on real-world ("real") applications of ethos.
Now, I'm not exactly a huge gamer - I play a few games, but not to the point of obsessiveness - but I have noticed a few things when I do play these. The game that I play the most is called "League of Legends." It is an online, multiplayer game where to teams try to invade and destroy their opponents' base. One of the biggest aspects of this game is its reliance on teamwork and trust. Even when the players are total strangers (as they "often are) they have to be able to work together and rely on one another.
Now, gamers can be quite a varied bunch. There are the casual gamers, like myself, who are just there to have fun and play the game. Then there are the professional gamers - players whose entire lives revolve around the game and who actually form their own teams to compete in tournaments and contests. And, finally, there are the "hardcore" gamers - the players who don't care enough or aren't skilled enough to play professionally, but the game is their entire life, and you'd better not mess them up or their gonna come burn your house down. It's hard to believe, but there really are players who think like that.
A lot of times, though, these "hardcore" gamers can be pretty good, and they usually know how the game works, and how to win. Unfortunately, they generally don't do a very good job of establishing ethos with their teammates. They make crude jokes, insult other's mistakes, and generally display a negative attitude. If you die too often, you are automatically a "noob," and you will be told so repeatedly throughout the game. However, if you do well, you are not complimented. These players come across as rude, mean, and self-centered. So, when a team is behind and they try to tell their teammates what to do, they are ignored (leading, of course, to more "noob"-ranting). Through their actions, they tell their teammates that they do not have any real credibility, and should not be listened to. This leads almost inevitably to defeat. If these gamers only understood how to establish a good ethos, they would be able to gain their team's respect and possibly pull their team to a victory.
Just some quick thoughts on real-world ("real") applications of ethos.
College
Just a few things that I have found enjoyable about going to college:
- Choose your own schedule:
- Goodbye, eight-hour school day! Hello sets of one- or two-hour school days!
- Roommates:
- You start out the school year with five friends (except for those poor Helaman Hallers...)!
- Parents:
- They miss you, so they send you boatloads of candy!!!!!
Yeah, it's pretty sweet (pun intended). However, here are some things I don't love about college:
- The Pool:
- Seriously?!? I can choose between going at 5am or eating dinner at 10pm? That's awsome.
- Roommates:
- Why won't they just do their dishes for once?
- No car:
- I can't go anywhere. And that is meant more for getting stuff than for having fun... Also, everything closes really early here - around 9pm.
Friday, April 6, 2012
Fall of the Snowman
So, after finishing up my afternoon classes, I came back to my apartment fully expecting to be greeted by the warm, welcoming smile of my newly made snowman (figuratively, of course - he doesn't actually have a face). But no, some foul ruffian had come along and assaulted my poor, defenseless snowman.
My snowman, killed. Oh, the travesty! I must discover who has done this and bring them to justice!
Rise of the Snowman
Being from Alabama, I don't get a lot of snow. So, the late snowfall earlier this morning was a pleasant surprise (for me - not for my roommates). And, having been busy during all of the past snows, I decided to take advantage of this one.
Meet my snowman:
Yes, I am quite happy with this weather :)
Meet my snowman:
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Personal Narrative- Final Draft
Assigned
Seats
Reluctantly,
I flipped the bathroom light switch off and ducked into the hallway, the open
door pulling a small cloud of steam out behind me as I made my way toward my
room. I shivered slightly in the relative coolness of the air in the hall,
wincing from the occasional water droplet that trickled from my still-damp hair
down my back. The house was silent and dark except for the faint glow coming
from beneath my parents’ bedroom door, and I hurried through the gloom to the
warm safety of my bed.
Despite
the darkness, my eyes adjusted quickly, letting me see the faint shadows of
twisting tree limbs dancing on my walls. Foregoing my bed for a moment, I
kneeled down next to it carefully, shifting in discomfort as my skin came in
contact with the damp spots on my pajama pants. Warily, I glanced toward each
corner of my room, making certain they were empty, before quickly closing my
eyes and rattling off a prayer. I snapped my eyes back open and checked the
corners again. Still empty.
Feeling
relieved – but by no means safe – I hopped up onto my bed and pulled my covers
down, preparing to burrow into the comforting confines of the sheets when I
heard it. The noise was faint – only a slight murmur over the squeak of bed
springs – but it was there. A quiet giggle? A malevolent cackle? Slowly, I
moved to the edge of my bed and leaned down to peer into the empty space
beneath, eyes wide, hands trembling slightly. And, there, a shape sat – a
darker patch in the blackness that shifted toward me as I watched it.
“Hi,
Ryan!” my sister said. “I’m under your bed!”
Suddenly
furious that I had let my six-year-old sister frighten me, I bellowed, “Get out
of my room, Chandler ! Now!”
Squeaking,
she scurried out from beneath my bed and bolted for the door as I scrambled out
of my sheets and ran after her, yelling and chasing her down the hallway toward
her own room. She burst through her door and immediately turned, slamming the
door in my face and locking it before I could get to the knob. Pounding on the
door, I continued yelling at her until I heard the shriek from my parents’ room
– “RYAN!!!”
Filled
with panic, I raced back to my room and dove under my bed, huddling down in the
cramped space and vainly hoping that my mother would not find me. My heart
raced and my adrenaline-enhanced ears clearly heard the creak of the opening
door and the quick footsteps as my mother approached my room. From beneath the
bed, I saw her feet as she entered, and light suddenly flooded the room. She
approached the bed, and I knew that she would find me. Terror and guilt laced
my mind and I squirmed farther into the corner. Perhaps she wouldn’t see me –
it was dark beneath the bed, after all. But no, she knelt down and looked
directly at me.
“Ryan,”
Mom said. “Come out from under the bed.”
Reluctantly,
I obeyed, crawling out from my hiding spot and sitting on the edge of my bed. I
looked down at my knees, at the floor, at my dresser – anywhere but directly at
my mom.
She
sighed and sat down next to me. “Ryan, you shouldn’t yell at your sister,” she
said. “Why were you chasing her?”
“She
came into my room!” I mumbled, still looking away. “She’s always coming in here
and bugging me!”
“She
only comes in because she likes you,” my mom said. “She’s just trying to have
fun.”
“But
she always comes in when I don’t want her here!” I whined. I looked up at her
for the first time, my mouth set in a pout and my eyes filled with righteous
fury. “And she’s always touching my stuff!”
“Ryan,
she’s your sister,” she sighed. “You’re going to be together for a long time.
You need to learn to tolerate her. Besides, she looks up to you – you need to
be nicer to her.”
“I
try,” I grumbled. “But she makes it so hard! She’s annoying!”
“Well,
just keep trying,” my mom said. “Okay?”
“Yes
ma’am.”
She
left the room, flipping the lights off again, and I was left in the darkness to
contemplate what she had told me. I lay down under my sheets and stared up at
my dark ceiling, thinking, until I finally drifted off to sleep.
* *
* *
I
was waiting with my sister in the bus rider line a few days later, waiting for
the buses to pull up so that we could go home after a long day of school. We
were in the middle of a solid wall of kids, bustling and talking noisily along
the sidewalk a “safe” distance from where the buses would pull up. The din of
over one hundred yelling, screaming elementary school students was deafening,
and I could barely hear my sister’s constant stream of chatter over it.
“…and
then we got to read our books, and then we had snacks, and I had goldfish, and
they were really good, and Mrs. McMillan brought us juice, and Emily spilled it
on the ground and got in trouble, and then we took a math test, and I got them
all right, and then we got to take a nap, and then we went to lunch, and then
we wrote in our journals, and then we went to recess, and then…” she said,
relentlessly giving me every detail of what she had done that day. She barely
even paused for breath, bouncing up and down excitedly with her small, light
blue backpack.
I
thought of what my mom had told me and, through some monumental effort, I
endured her endless babble, nodding, inserting the occasional appropriate
interjection. Finally, after eons of torture, the buses arrived to pick us up,
and the chaperoning teachers signaled us to get in. My sister stopped talking
as soon as we moved through the door, and we walked down the aisles slowly,
carefully reading each sign above the seats, trying to find our names for our new
assigned seats.
My
sister found her seat first and sat down next to another girl as I kept looking
for mine. I saw the sign with my name on it a few seats down and sat down right
next to the window. The stiff, wrinkled seat material crackled under me as I
shifted around, pulling my backpack off and reaching in to grab my book. I knew
it would make me car-sick to read while the bus was moving, but it was Redwall!
You didn’t just stop reading those books for something as minor as a little
headache.
I
was just starting to pick up where I had left off when I glance up and saw a
large boy standing next to my sister’s seat, glaring down at her with murderous
eyes.
“That’s
my seat!” he yelled at my sister. “Get out!”
My
sister cowered down in her seat as the strange boy continued to yell at her,
obviously intimidated. Immediately, fury welled up inside of me, and I shot up
out of my seat, stomping down the aisle to confront him.
“DON’T
YELL AT MY SISTER!” I bellowed at him, face contorted with rage. I continued to
advance towards him and he backed off, looking nervous. “Go sit somewhere
else!”
He
quickly squeezed past me and hurried towards the back of the bus, sitting down
very quietly and not looking toward me at all. I glanced down at my sister to
see her smiling up at me gratefully. I smiled back at her, then returned to my
own seat to continue reading the adventures of Redwall.
Personal Narrative- Rough Draft
Assigned
Seats
Reluctantly,
I flipped the bathroom light switch off and ducked into the hallway, the open
door pulling a small cloud of steam out behind me as I made my way toward my
room. I shivered slightly in the relative coolness of the air in the hall,
wincing from the occasional water droplet that trickled from my still-damp hair
down my back. The house was silent and dark except for the faint glow coming
from beneath my parents’ bedroom door, and I hurried through the gloom to the
warm safety of my bed.
Despite
the darkness, my eyes adjusted quickly, letting me see the faint shadows of
twisting tree limbs dancing on my walls. Foregoing my bed for a moment, I
kneeled down next to it carefully, shifting in discomfort as my skin came in
contact with the damp spots on my pajama pants. Warily, I glanced toward each
corner of my room, making certain they were empty, before quickly closing my
eyes and rattling off a prayer. I snapped my eyes back open and checked the
corners again. Still empty.
Feeling
relieved – but by no means safe – I hopped up onto my bed and pulled my covers
down, preparing to burrow into the comforting confines of the sheets when I
heard it. The noise was faint – only a slight murmur over the squeak of bed
springs – but it was there. A quiet giggle? A malevolent cackle? Slowly, I
moved to the edge of my bed and leaned down to peer into the empty space
beneath, eyes wide, hands trembling slightly. And, there, a shape sat – a
darker patch in the blackness that shifted toward me as I watched it.
“Hi,
Ryan!” my sister said. “I’m under your bed!”
Suddenly
furious that I had let my six-year-old sister frighten me, I bellowed, “Get out
of my room, Chandler ! Now!”
Squeaking,
she scurried out from beneath my bed and bolted for the door as I scrambled out
of my sheets and ran after her, yelling and chasing her down the hallway toward
her own room. She burst through her door and immediately turned, slamming the
door in my face and locking it before I could get to the knob. Pounding on the
door, I continued yelling at her until I heard the shriek from my parents’ room
– “RYAN!!!”
Filled
with panic, I raced back to my room and dove under my bed, huddling down in the
cramped space and vainly hoping that my mother would not find me. My heart
raced and my adrenaline-enhanced ears clearly heard the creak of the opening
door and the quick footsteps as my mother approached my room. From beneath the
bed, I saw her feet as she entered, and light suddenly flooded the room. She
approached the bed, and I knew that she would find me. Terror and guilt laced
my mind and I squirmed farther into the corner. Perhaps she wouldn’t see me –
it was dark beneath the bed, after all. But no, she knelt down and looked
directly at me.
Friday, March 16, 2012
Research Paper Beginnings
Thesis:
Despite some views to the contrary, casual reading is in decline, which has had many adverse effects, especially among the younger generations. Both the amount of time spent reading and the depth of reading have been decreasing over the last few decades, which has negatively impacted the creativity of students, their success in education, and their ability to learn and work effectively in careers.
Reading in Decline:
During recent decades, and especially with the increase in the popularity of television and videogames, the amount of time people spend reading has been dropping. There are many theories as to the cause of this decline, ranging from the perpetual scapegoat of technology – including the aforementioned television and videogames – to the attempts of teachers to turn their students into modern-day “Renaissance men” by overloading them with information and stifling their joy of reading. However, the cause of this decline is not nearly as important as the fact that the decline is occurring. Despite the many signs indicating this trend, there are many people – scholars or other authorities and the general public – who either deny that there is a trend or are simply ignorant of its existence. Therefore, the problem is not to discover what is causing this decline, but rather to make others aware that there is a decline and that it is detrimental to society.
One of the major indications of the decrease in reading is the amount of money spent on reading materials, which include books, newspapers, magazines, and other sources of literature. One survey of this spending showed that between the years of 2000 and 2007 this spending fell “a precipitous 33 percent” – from $176 to only $118 per household each year (Best Customers 568). Many other similar surveys also reveal this drop in spending. This drastic decline in literary purchases reveals the extent to which the inclination to read is dying out. Other studies are far more direct, such as one performed by the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA). In 2004 they surveyed 17,000 adults concerning their reading habits from the past year. The results were discouraging. The number of people who had read even one piece of literature – not including newspapers or magazines – on their own time had decreased by ten percent from fifty-seven percent in 1982. This drop is even more shocking when looking at the results of young adults in specific. According to the survey: “Among 18- to 24-year-olds, for example, only 43 percent say they've recently read a work of literature on their own time, down from 60 percent in 1982” (The Wilson Quarterly 87). This nearly twenty percent drop in casual reading among the younger generation is a clear indication that reading is in danger and that the trend is increasing primarily among teenagers and young adults.
Despite some views to the contrary, casual reading is in decline, which has had many adverse effects, especially among the younger generations. Both the amount of time spent reading and the depth of reading have been decreasing over the last few decades, which has negatively impacted the creativity of students, their success in education, and their ability to learn and work effectively in careers.
Reading in Decline:
During recent decades, and especially with the increase in the popularity of television and videogames, the amount of time people spend reading has been dropping. There are many theories as to the cause of this decline, ranging from the perpetual scapegoat of technology – including the aforementioned television and videogames – to the attempts of teachers to turn their students into modern-day “Renaissance men” by overloading them with information and stifling their joy of reading. However, the cause of this decline is not nearly as important as the fact that the decline is occurring. Despite the many signs indicating this trend, there are many people – scholars or other authorities and the general public – who either deny that there is a trend or are simply ignorant of its existence. Therefore, the problem is not to discover what is causing this decline, but rather to make others aware that there is a decline and that it is detrimental to society.
One of the major indications of the decrease in reading is the amount of money spent on reading materials, which include books, newspapers, magazines, and other sources of literature. One survey of this spending showed that between the years of 2000 and 2007 this spending fell “a precipitous 33 percent” – from $176 to only $118 per household each year (Best Customers 568). Many other similar surveys also reveal this drop in spending. This drastic decline in literary purchases reveals the extent to which the inclination to read is dying out. Other studies are far more direct, such as one performed by the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA). In 2004 they surveyed 17,000 adults concerning their reading habits from the past year. The results were discouraging. The number of people who had read even one piece of literature – not including newspapers or magazines – on their own time had decreased by ten percent from fifty-seven percent in 1982. This drop is even more shocking when looking at the results of young adults in specific. According to the survey: “Among 18- to 24-year-olds, for example, only 43 percent say they've recently read a work of literature on their own time, down from 60 percent in 1982” (The Wilson Quarterly 87). This nearly twenty percent drop in casual reading among the younger generation is a clear indication that reading is in danger and that the trend is increasing primarily among teenagers and young adults.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Monday, January 9, 2012
Response to: "A Child of God" -Elder Eyring
The "A Child of God" talk given by Elder Eyring was extremely beneficial to read, especially this early in my second college semester. In fact, I could wish that I had read it at the beginning of the previous semester. Elder Eyring presents so many wonderful and inspired suggestions for succeeding not only in our scholarly education, but also in our continued learning throughout our lives. I especially loved how he tied in many gospel principles in his explanation of the traits and characteristics of great learners. One of my favorite sections in Elder Eyring's talk was when he discussed the necessity of sharing and cooperation in the learning process. Truly, without the input and assistance of our peers and mentors, we cannot truly achieve our full potential in our lives.
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