Weighing in at 220.462 pounds, Harry is a fat man. He won't stop being fat if his weight drops to 220.460. So that means any man who weighs the same as Harry must also be fat: a fraction of an ounce, or a gram, can never make the difference between being fat or thin. But, if that's true, then someone who weighs 220.457, is also fat, and so is someone who weighs 220.455 pounds and so on. You'll still be claiming that a fraction of an ounce, or a gram can't make a difference between fat and thin when you're comparing the person who weighs 88.194 pounds to one who weighs 88.182. But this is absurd: someone who weighs 88.184 pounds could never be described as fat. Hence the paradox: a series of apparently logically watertight steps lead us to a conclusion that is manifestly false. But neither the logic nor the observation have any evident flaws.
This is a very interesting philosophy by Eubulide. What I love about this philosophy is that, like stated in the last sentence, the logic nor observation have any evident flaws. If you were to compare a 220 pound man, to a man of 5 pounds less, and then so on and so forth, you'd reach a point where you'd say, that man is no longer fat. However, when looking so closely, at a fraction of a gram or an ounce, it's difficult to finally go, aha! that is it, he is no longer fat.
I hope you enjoyed this 30 second philosophy. Let me know what you guys think.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Paper Bag Rolemodel
Hey guys, so this week i had to do a math project on the paper bag princess. sounds strange, i know. The classic book is written by Robert Munsch and illustrated by Micheal Marchenko. But as i was reading the book, i started to remember all the reasons that i fell in love with the story in the first place.
The story beginnings with a love struck Princess named Elizabeth. It seems that her only aspirations in life are to marry her true love prince Ronald and live happily ever after in there castle far far away.
This is the basic story of any fairy tale. But all does not go as planned when a dragon comes and destroys her castle, and kidnaps Prince Ronald. All her clothes are burned up, and the only thing not burned is a paper bag. (Makes so much sense that the only thing not to burn is a paper bag) So Elizabeth has to put on the paper bag and chase down the dragon to save Ronald.
After following the dragons trail of destruction back to his cave, Elizabeth out smarts the dragon and is able to save Ronald. Only to find out that her Prince charming isn't a charming person. She dumps him and goes off into the sunset by herself, happy and content.
I really admire this book and i think it teaches girls of all ages valuable lessons about life, that you don't have to sit back and wait for the prince to save you, that you can save yourself. It teaches girls that you can take matters into your own hands and never let a man insult you, especially after you saved his butt.
This story encourages girls to not let the world push them around and to fight back. To use there brains, and creativity to solve problems.
This story encourages girls to not let the world push them around and to fight back. To use there brains, and creativity to solve problems.
To be honest , most people would not run around in a paper bag. Barbie wore high heels and mini skirts, and in the 80's the Mattel toy company came out with a talking Barbie that actually said "math class is tough".
Where this is a horrible example of female images targeted to young girls, Elizabeth is a resourceful, intelligent character that i think is a good role model for young girls ages 0-6.
Excellent job Robert Munsch.
True Love! (In Pixel Form)
I'm sure we've all had our childhood crushes.
Some of us fell deeply in love with actors, actresses and movie characters.
Some of us fell deeply in love with actors, actresses and movie characters.
Others of us were falling into love with each other, and playing spin the bottle before we even knew what kissing really meant.
I also fell in love...
My love was not a fleeting thing however and haunts me even now some days...
I was in love with Princess Peach!
Or... at least the pixels she was comprised of.
My love of Princess Peach herself was seconded only by my love of videogames all together.
Released in 1991, this game is the most epic platformer of all times. Nothing beats this classic mario staple. This game is one of the games that firmly rooted Mario into the minds of people worldwide. It's the moment where they truly perfected the gameplay and style of the Super Mario Series, so that it's level of fun and replayability are at it's highest. Nothing is more gratifying than saving the dear Princess Peach at the end of the game, even if all you get in return is a kiss on the cheek.
My love of Princess Peach herself was seconded only by my love of videogames all together.
So now I'm going to take us back to the days when graphics were bad and videogames simply had to speak for themselves. Here are some retro games that have standed the test of time and have provided countless hours of entertainment to (nerdy) individuals of all ages worldwide.
They're all mario games (I know, how typical, but Mario was my childhood! He just can't be beaten!) and I'll start from one of the earliest games to capture my attention.
Super Mario World
They're all mario games (I know, how typical, but Mario was my childhood! He just can't be beaten!) and I'll start from one of the earliest games to capture my attention.
Super Mario World
Released in 1991, this game is the most epic platformer of all times. Nothing beats this classic mario staple. This game is one of the games that firmly rooted Mario into the minds of people worldwide. It's the moment where they truly perfected the gameplay and style of the Super Mario Series, so that it's level of fun and replayability are at it's highest. Nothing is more gratifying than saving the dear Princess Peach at the end of the game, even if all you get in return is a kiss on the cheek.
Next: Super Mario RPG
This game combined all the fun and whimsy of mario with the strategy and enjoyment found in RPG's. The game, released on the Super Nintendo continued the Mario trend but took it in an interesting different direction. The storyline and characters were cute and cheesy, and the gameplay was very similair to the Final Fantasy games of that time. Although it sounds a little strange, the combination works, and turned RPG into something that was accessible to all age groups. This leads us to another awesome game...
Paper Mario!
This game, released on the N64 continues with the RPG battle system, while adding more fun elements such as badges that offer different abilities and the addition of partners that perform special attacks in battle. The partners also add to the storyplaying and are important pieces to solving the puzzle during the gameplay, doing things like hitting buttons and levers and open new pathways. Also... the graphics are adorable and the different locations are all enchanting and pretty.
Awwww. How cute.
The paper element isn't overused like it is in Paper Mario 2, but it still is in there enough to add an element of bizarre cuteness and charm.
In the second two, the inclusion of Princess Peach as a playable character added an extra element of fun for myself, with her being my favourite character of course.
All 3 of these games are even still occasionally played by me today, and still haven't lost their touch. So thank you to Mario and Princess Peach for shaping my love of Video Games into what it is today.
I may be a nerd, but I am proud of it ;)
From Tyler, With Love
This is where it ends.
This could also be where it begins, but the decision isn't mine to make; I don't really believe in redemption. I don't deserve that compassion; I don't deserve the pity. You probably look at me now as worthless - hell, I might actually agree with you - But there was a time when my life meant something.
I was a husband. I was a father. I was a grass-cutting, rent-paying, news-watching, beer-drinking 26-year-old with a future! I'd been taking acting classes, running through scripts and even tried my hand at writing a few of my own. Things were looking up and I wanted to make it in the world - I wanted to do right by the girl who sat at home, wine glass in hand, waiting for me to walk through our apartment door.
God, she was beautiful. I loved the way she would bite her lip when something was bothering her, the way she would trace her fingers along my neck and shoulders, sending shivers through my body... and I loved the way she worried about me so much, that she sat me down on our couch one evening as she answered my puzzled expression by resting one hand across her stomach.
I started hunting for a few extra screen tests and auditions to bring in the cash. I called up old friends, new friends, co-workers, managers and even talked to my agent at least three times a day. In two weeks, I had been asked to do three more small films that could go straight to DVD, if we were lucky. I would be on set day and night, but I was sure things were going to work out; Sarah and I were going to build a life together, a life that we had always dreamed of.
Then came the crash.
And I crashed hard.
It all started on the set of my newest project called "From Tyler". The storyline wasn't too bad - about a man in his thirties who led a lonely life as a photojournalist, and stalked his subjects by leaving them mysterious notes and snapshots each signed "From Tyler". Tyler was autistic, which would be a challenge for me as an actor, and was ultimately at the wrong place at the wrong time when he caught a shot he shouldn't have; a gang of about five beating to a pulp one of Tyler's previous subjects - a teenage boy whose name he couldn't remember.
Tyler started leaving messages for his other subjects in the only form of communication he could manage; photography. Although he didn't understand what was happening, he knew what danger looked and sounded like; he wanted to warn them, to save them from being beaten, abducted, or worse... but nobody believed him. Doors slammed in his face, angry husbands drew guns. He understood that these people were angry, but why didn't they listen? Didn't they realize that Tyler was only trying to help them?
Didn't they?
Didn't they?
Didn't they?
Tyler panicked. He was uncontrollable; Faces became blurs of colour and expression; he flapped his arms, pointing and waving and stomping his feet willing for somebody - anybody - to listen to him. He wandered the streets at night yelling and screaming as loud as he could, babbling incoherently. He started to dream terrible dreams - were they really his? - of hurting these people, really hurting them. His boss fired him. Then Tyler, the respected Chicago city photojournalist, suddenly had nothing left to lose.
I had nothing left to lose.
My head throbbed with pain for hours after filiming; I started to shout in my sleep, my arms and legs jerking without my consent. Light hurt my eyes. Everywhere I walked I heared gun shots and cries for help - muffled, I knew, as a result of passing garbage trucks and the cacaphony of heavy traffic. Couldn't anyone else hear it?
BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG.
At first I slept on the couch so I wouldn't disturb Sarah. Then I stopped coming home altogether. I spent my nights with Jack Daniels, with streetlights, concrete slabs of sidewalk, with groups patrolling the streets dressed in black
The Gang.
They were coming after me! They'd been following me for the past few nights, I was certain!
Had they somehow figured out that I knew about their plan, their hit list of vicitms who were to endure God knows what?
But God didn't know what; if He did, He wouldn't let it happen... Would he?
I panicked. I was uncontrollable.
I ran home and pounded my bruised fist on the already open door of the apartment. I heard Sarah call in response, and I bolted straight to where she stood at the kitchen counter, slicing up vegetables for dinner.
As I cried out, a similar sound escaped Sarah's lips. I had my arms around her, squeezing her tightly to my chest, tears starting to streak down my face. She didn't protest. The warmth of her body scultped to mine was comforting, almost as though it was seeping into my heart.
Dripping into my heart.
Leaking onto my shirt without a pulse.
I looked down at the handle of the kitchen knife Sarah had been holding; it was now protruding from her chest, a halo of blood soaking the fabric of her violet t-shirt.
She didn't protest.
She didn't protest.
***
This is where it ends.
This could also be where it begins, but the decision isn't mine to make. I'm accompanied, now, only by my own mangled heart, a curb of cement and metal beams. I hardly pay attention to my grip or the raging water below; Why should I? I am my own worst enemy! I was the one who killed her - who killed our baby! I shouldn't be allowed to live. I would do anything to take back the last couple of months - But life doesn't work like that. No, instead, life will make you think you can make up for every piece-of-shit thing you've ever done. Is false happiness what waits for me?
I guess I'll never know.
eeeeek. sorry its long. sorry it's not well developed. This is NOT meant to be a monologue, however, if i go back and edit, it might be worthy of a short story. Maybe i'll fix it up to properly fit that style. but for now, 2 blog posts down - 5 comments, king lear, other short story, research report, studying and scholarship applications to go.
hobey ho, let's go.
This could also be where it begins, but the decision isn't mine to make; I don't really believe in redemption. I don't deserve that compassion; I don't deserve the pity. You probably look at me now as worthless - hell, I might actually agree with you - But there was a time when my life meant something.
I was a husband. I was a father. I was a grass-cutting, rent-paying, news-watching, beer-drinking 26-year-old with a future! I'd been taking acting classes, running through scripts and even tried my hand at writing a few of my own. Things were looking up and I wanted to make it in the world - I wanted to do right by the girl who sat at home, wine glass in hand, waiting for me to walk through our apartment door.
God, she was beautiful. I loved the way she would bite her lip when something was bothering her, the way she would trace her fingers along my neck and shoulders, sending shivers through my body... and I loved the way she worried about me so much, that she sat me down on our couch one evening as she answered my puzzled expression by resting one hand across her stomach.
I started hunting for a few extra screen tests and auditions to bring in the cash. I called up old friends, new friends, co-workers, managers and even talked to my agent at least three times a day. In two weeks, I had been asked to do three more small films that could go straight to DVD, if we were lucky. I would be on set day and night, but I was sure things were going to work out; Sarah and I were going to build a life together, a life that we had always dreamed of.
Then came the crash.
And I crashed hard.
It all started on the set of my newest project called "From Tyler". The storyline wasn't too bad - about a man in his thirties who led a lonely life as a photojournalist, and stalked his subjects by leaving them mysterious notes and snapshots each signed "From Tyler". Tyler was autistic, which would be a challenge for me as an actor, and was ultimately at the wrong place at the wrong time when he caught a shot he shouldn't have; a gang of about five beating to a pulp one of Tyler's previous subjects - a teenage boy whose name he couldn't remember.
Tyler started leaving messages for his other subjects in the only form of communication he could manage; photography. Although he didn't understand what was happening, he knew what danger looked and sounded like; he wanted to warn them, to save them from being beaten, abducted, or worse... but nobody believed him. Doors slammed in his face, angry husbands drew guns. He understood that these people were angry, but why didn't they listen? Didn't they realize that Tyler was only trying to help them?
Didn't they?
Didn't they?
Didn't they?
Tyler panicked. He was uncontrollable; Faces became blurs of colour and expression; he flapped his arms, pointing and waving and stomping his feet willing for somebody - anybody - to listen to him. He wandered the streets at night yelling and screaming as loud as he could, babbling incoherently. He started to dream terrible dreams - were they really his? - of hurting these people, really hurting them. His boss fired him. Then Tyler, the respected Chicago city photojournalist, suddenly had nothing left to lose.
I had nothing left to lose.
My head throbbed with pain for hours after filiming; I started to shout in my sleep, my arms and legs jerking without my consent. Light hurt my eyes. Everywhere I walked I heared gun shots and cries for help - muffled, I knew, as a result of passing garbage trucks and the cacaphony of heavy traffic. Couldn't anyone else hear it?
BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG.
At first I slept on the couch so I wouldn't disturb Sarah. Then I stopped coming home altogether. I spent my nights with Jack Daniels, with streetlights, concrete slabs of sidewalk, with groups patrolling the streets dressed in black
The Gang.
They were coming after me! They'd been following me for the past few nights, I was certain!
Had they somehow figured out that I knew about their plan, their hit list of vicitms who were to endure God knows what?
But God didn't know what; if He did, He wouldn't let it happen... Would he?
I panicked. I was uncontrollable.
I ran home and pounded my bruised fist on the already open door of the apartment. I heard Sarah call in response, and I bolted straight to where she stood at the kitchen counter, slicing up vegetables for dinner.
As I cried out, a similar sound escaped Sarah's lips. I had my arms around her, squeezing her tightly to my chest, tears starting to streak down my face. She didn't protest. The warmth of her body scultped to mine was comforting, almost as though it was seeping into my heart.
Dripping into my heart.
Leaking onto my shirt without a pulse.
I looked down at the handle of the kitchen knife Sarah had been holding; it was now protruding from her chest, a halo of blood soaking the fabric of her violet t-shirt.
She didn't protest.
She didn't protest.
***
This is where it ends.
This could also be where it begins, but the decision isn't mine to make. I'm accompanied, now, only by my own mangled heart, a curb of cement and metal beams. I hardly pay attention to my grip or the raging water below; Why should I? I am my own worst enemy! I was the one who killed her - who killed our baby! I shouldn't be allowed to live. I would do anything to take back the last couple of months - But life doesn't work like that. No, instead, life will make you think you can make up for every piece-of-shit thing you've ever done. Is false happiness what waits for me?
I guess I'll never know.
eeeeek. sorry its long. sorry it's not well developed. This is NOT meant to be a monologue, however, if i go back and edit, it might be worthy of a short story. Maybe i'll fix it up to properly fit that style. but for now, 2 blog posts down - 5 comments, king lear, other short story, research report, studying and scholarship applications to go.
hobey ho, let's go.
Man on Fire
The last blog I posted inspired me to do another movie review. I chose one of my old favourite action movies. This movie doesn't have your typical plot or ending, but thats what kept me so interested! Here is a review...
Man on Fire is a vicious, uncompromising look at the effects of a kidnapping in Latin America. It is also a heartfelt character study about the relationship between a young girl (Dakota Fanning) and her bodyguard (Denzel Washington). The film opens with subtitles explaining that a person is kidnapped every sixty seconds in Latin America, and only 70% are likely to survive. We witness an everyday businessman being dragged off of the street from his wife and into a getaway car, held for ransom, and finally returned to his family in the middle of a freeway, nearly naked, and physically damaged (I’ll skip the violent details). This continued wave of kidnappings leads a couple (Marc Anthony, Radha Mitchell) worried about their only child, Pita (Fanning), to enlist the protection of an ex-government operative named Creasy (Washington), who is haunted by his crimes against man and spends his days drinking life away. Reluctantly, he accepts the job.
Every day, he coldly whisks her away to school, uninterested in her or her interest in him. Eventually, he warms to the girl because of her smart but somewhat innocent nature. As their relationship grows stronger, so does his will to live. One day, as she is coming back from piano practice, she is abducted, and Creasy is shot several times by the abductors and left for dead. When he awakens, he begins investigating the kidnapping and unleashing his wrath on those responsible.
Man on Fire is a moral drama about replacing an unacceptable evil with one that is acceptable. Though wanted by the police for his wave of destruction, Creasy fills the void that the girl’s kidnapping creates. Washington, who sank into a brief mediocre muck with John Q and Out of Time, returns to playing a multi-layered character who must not only overcome obstacles, but his own demons. Though he is tormented by the loss of Pita, he still takes pleasure in exacting his vengeance.
Man on Fire is a vicious, uncompromising look at the effects of a kidnapping in Latin America. It is also a heartfelt character study about the relationship between a young girl (Dakota Fanning) and her bodyguard (Denzel Washington). The film opens with subtitles explaining that a person is kidnapped every sixty seconds in Latin America, and only 70% are likely to survive. We witness an everyday businessman being dragged off of the street from his wife and into a getaway car, held for ransom, and finally returned to his family in the middle of a freeway, nearly naked, and physically damaged (I’ll skip the violent details). This continued wave of kidnappings leads a couple (Marc Anthony, Radha Mitchell) worried about their only child, Pita (Fanning), to enlist the protection of an ex-government operative named Creasy (Washington), who is haunted by his crimes against man and spends his days drinking life away. Reluctantly, he accepts the job.
Every day, he coldly whisks her away to school, uninterested in her or her interest in him. Eventually, he warms to the girl because of her smart but somewhat innocent nature. As their relationship grows stronger, so does his will to live. One day, as she is coming back from piano practice, she is abducted, and Creasy is shot several times by the abductors and left for dead. When he awakens, he begins investigating the kidnapping and unleashing his wrath on those responsible.
Man on Fire is a moral drama about replacing an unacceptable evil with one that is acceptable. Though wanted by the police for his wave of destruction, Creasy fills the void that the girl’s kidnapping creates. Washington, who sank into a brief mediocre muck with John Q and Out of Time, returns to playing a multi-layered character who must not only overcome obstacles, but his own demons. Though he is tormented by the loss of Pita, he still takes pleasure in exacting his vengeance.
A great laugh, and a great view
So She's the man was on tv yesterday and it happens to be one of my favouritteee movies. I love it. Incase you haven't seen it here's a bit of a review that will hopefully sell you on renting it!
"Shes the Man", the new romantic comedy starring Amanda Bynes, is worth the couple dollars fee at the blockbuster or rogers video. But you might want to leave the boyfriend home for this one. It's what they would call a "chick flick". But the movie is fun with lots of laughs and has some serious eye candy.
It's a modern day version of William Shapespear's "Twelfth Night." It starts with Viola (Bynes) kicking some ass playing soccer. The girls soccer team at her high school gets cut and their failed attempt to play on the boys team shows Viola how hot headed and sexist her boyfriend is, so she dumps him on the spot. Just then, her twin brother Sebastian decides to go to England for a couple weeks even though he is starting at a new high school.
Viola decides to dress as her brother and steal his identity at the new school so she can play on the boys soccer team. She soon falls in love with her (gorgeous) roomate at the boys dorm, Duke, who is in love with Olivia. Olivia is lab partners with Sebastian (Viola) and falls in love with him. All the while, Monique, Sebastians ex-girlfriend, is fighting to get him back. It's a huge tangled mess thats sure to put a smile on your face. And in a strange way it's not confusing at all.
Amanda Bynes is not believable as a boy at all. She has such a pretty face it would be hard to cover up her feminine features. It takes a lot to convince the others Sebastian is a boy. But overall it's a great way to spend some quality time with the girls!
Friday, October 2, 2009
Untitled
So I decided after righting my medias res story, I could really use some advice on it. I like the concept, and some specific lines I used, but there is something that I feel was missing. I'll have to admit it was hard for me to write a short story as I always get caught up and practically turn it into a novel (and I did exceed the 600 word limit). So for this piece I would like you to again comment on my use of dialogue and the structure. I also have the tendency to jump back and forth between tenses, so let me know if it flowed nicely. Also, because I felt I had to make it short, I am concerned that I may have left out crucial details and some necessary imagery, so let me know if it is clear. Let me know any of your likes and dislikes, and I'll take everything into consideration. Lastly, I would like to give this story a title, so if you have any suggestions, that would be great! Enjoy.
Untitled
By: Rebecca Mossman
Silence now rang in my ears. It was a deafening silence, one that could only be caused by the stark contrast of the gunshot blast only seconds ago and the utter stillness now. I stood shaking; wide eyes staring in horror at the blood pouring out of the bullet hole. I felt nauseous – the bile was rising in my throat. My legs gave out and I crumpled to the floor. Desperate sobs heaved from my chest as I crawled toward his motionless body...
* * *
"My God, can you believe this?" I was sitting with my boyfriend, Kyle, as we watched the 6 o’clock news. I turned to look at him, to see if he was as horrified as I was but he seemed to be staring mindlessly into space. "Kyle," I accused, "are you paying any attention?" He looked up at the sound of my voice.
"I’m sorry, what?" he asked, but I could tell that he wasn’t interested. I rolled my eyes at his ability to completely tone out the world around him.
"The news," I said, "it’s about a homicide that took place only two blocks from here. I don’t even know if I feel safe here anymore." I shook my head in disgust. I looked over at Kyle but he still seemed indifferent. "What’s gotten into you lately?" I demanded.
"Hmm? Oh. Nothing." He quickly looked away from me and went back to concentrating on the empty space in front of him. I shrugged off his flimsy answer and returned to my fascination with the news story.
"They believe it was gang-related," I mused aloud.
"It wasn’t," he mumbled, just loud enough for me to hear. I turned to look at him suspiciously.
"What’s that supposed to mean?"
"It doesn’t mean anything," he snapped, "I just happen to know that it was not gang related." With that, he gets up and starts to leave the room, but I follow him and grab his arm, stopping him in his tracks. He spins around and confronts me with a maddened look in his eyes. I stared back, unflinching into his deep, emerald eyes. I knew he was hiding something. I lowered my voice so that I wouldn’t sound so accusing:
"You know you can tell me anything, right?" We stood very still for a moment, simply staring at each other. I could tell he was troubled. Then he suddenly had me in his arms. He caved in; he started ranting about his friend Stefan and how he ran into him last night. He saw Stefan threatening another man. He was going to intervene when Stefan pulled a gun on the poor man. Kyle fled at the sight of the gun, only to hear shots fired. He kept running, and did not know the outcome until he heard it on the news just now.
"I’m such a coward," he sobbed heavily, "if only I had stepped in, maybe – "
"Stop." I cut him off before he could finish. "This is in no way your fault. You cannot blame yourself for what happened. It was instinct to run away; anyone would have done the same thing. Frankly, I’m glad you did because who knows what would have happened?" He looked at me, calmed by my words. We stood there in silence for a few moments, and then I spoke again: "you can make this right. Go to the police. Tell them what you saw." Kyle nodded absent-mindedly. We fell silent again. I was about to walk away to give him a chance at being alone, when he suddenly blurted:
"He saw me. He came to me today and told me that if I told the police, he would kill me," his voice cracked. His eyes flooded again, and pierced me with a plea for help. I sank helplessly into a nearby armchair.
"We have to do something," I whispered.
"There is no ‘we’," he said, suddenly angry, "stay out of this." He turned around and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.
* * *
After an hour, I started to get concerned. I didn’t like not knowing where he went, especially when he was so distraught. I picked up the phone and called him on his cell. He picked up after one ring. "I made up my mind," he said firmly, "I can make this right. I’m going to confront Stefan." I tried to intervene, but he continued, "I am not a coward. I can convince him to turn himself in." The phone went dead. I tried redialing but it went straight to voicemail.
"Shit," I muttered to myself as I ran toward the door. How could he be so naive to think that he could confront Stefan? I got into the car and started to drive as fast as I could.
I had been to Stefan’s house before. He and Kyle used to be pretty good friends. But about a year ago, they had a falling out. Stefan started abusing drugs, and had a series of offences that resulted in his fair share of nights in jail. I shuddered at the thought of them ever being friends.
It only took a few minutes to get to his house at the speed I took. I pulled into the driveway, and flew out of my car. I noted Kyle’s car, poorly parked on the side of the road as I darted up the steps toward the front door. It stood ajar. I could hear angry shouts from within. I rushed through the door in time to see Stefan pointing a gun in Kyle’s direction.
"Leave," Stefan was demanding, unaware of my presence. "Turn around right now. If I never see or hear of you again, I’ll let you live. Now leave," he spat the words out aggressively. He looked like a mad man; his once handsome features were distorted with rage. Kyle slowly raised his arms in surrender and started backing toward where I was standing. Stefan began lowering the gun in satisfaction. Kyle turned around and saw me, standing terrified. The sight of me in harm’s way seemed to inspire a menace. He turned back toward Stefan abruptly, and bolted toward him: tackling him to the ground. The gun skidded along the floor, and stopped in front of me. They fought violently. I watched in horror, feeling pathetic and helpless. Stefan’s hands ended clamped around Kyle’s neck.
"Oh my God! Stop it! You’re killing him!" I shrieked as Kyle’s face began to turn red. He was struggling to force him off but Stefan wouldn’t budge. I ran toward the battling pair, and unsuccessfully tried to pull Stefan away. I decided in that instant to grab the gun in vain hope of threatening Stefan. The cold metal felt heavy and awkward in my hands. My hands were shaking uncontrollably…
Then the gun went off.
It was all a blur. Stefan moved aside, revealing a large blood stain, slowly spreading across Kyle’s shirt. Stefan stumbled backward, staring back and forth between me holding the smoking gun and my victim, now lying in pain on the floor. With one last fleeting glance, he darted out the door.
Silence now rang in my ears. It was a deafening silence, one that could only be caused by the stark contrast of the gunshot blast only seconds ago and the utter stillness now. I stood shaking; wide eyes staring in horror at the blood pouring out of the bullet hole. I felt nauseous – the bile was rising in my throat. My legs gave out and I crumpled to the floor. Desperate sobs heaved from my chest as I crawled toward his motionless body. Kyle stared back at me with large, terrified eyes. "It’s going to be okay," I whispered as a sob broke through my lips. I leaned over and began to put pressure on his gaping wound. "I’m here for you." I squeezed his hand, as his emerald eyes held onto mine...
So there you have it.
I decided to leave it in a cliffhanger, to allow the reader to make their own assumptions. (And because I was far over the word limit :P) So thanks for taking the time to read, and I really appreciate any criticism you give me.
Untitled
By: Rebecca Mossman
Silence now rang in my ears. It was a deafening silence, one that could only be caused by the stark contrast of the gunshot blast only seconds ago and the utter stillness now. I stood shaking; wide eyes staring in horror at the blood pouring out of the bullet hole. I felt nauseous – the bile was rising in my throat. My legs gave out and I crumpled to the floor. Desperate sobs heaved from my chest as I crawled toward his motionless body...
* * *
"My God, can you believe this?" I was sitting with my boyfriend, Kyle, as we watched the 6 o’clock news. I turned to look at him, to see if he was as horrified as I was but he seemed to be staring mindlessly into space. "Kyle," I accused, "are you paying any attention?" He looked up at the sound of my voice.
"I’m sorry, what?" he asked, but I could tell that he wasn’t interested. I rolled my eyes at his ability to completely tone out the world around him.
"The news," I said, "it’s about a homicide that took place only two blocks from here. I don’t even know if I feel safe here anymore." I shook my head in disgust. I looked over at Kyle but he still seemed indifferent. "What’s gotten into you lately?" I demanded.
"Hmm? Oh. Nothing." He quickly looked away from me and went back to concentrating on the empty space in front of him. I shrugged off his flimsy answer and returned to my fascination with the news story.
"They believe it was gang-related," I mused aloud.
"It wasn’t," he mumbled, just loud enough for me to hear. I turned to look at him suspiciously.
"What’s that supposed to mean?"
"It doesn’t mean anything," he snapped, "I just happen to know that it was not gang related." With that, he gets up and starts to leave the room, but I follow him and grab his arm, stopping him in his tracks. He spins around and confronts me with a maddened look in his eyes. I stared back, unflinching into his deep, emerald eyes. I knew he was hiding something. I lowered my voice so that I wouldn’t sound so accusing:
"You know you can tell me anything, right?" We stood very still for a moment, simply staring at each other. I could tell he was troubled. Then he suddenly had me in his arms. He caved in; he started ranting about his friend Stefan and how he ran into him last night. He saw Stefan threatening another man. He was going to intervene when Stefan pulled a gun on the poor man. Kyle fled at the sight of the gun, only to hear shots fired. He kept running, and did not know the outcome until he heard it on the news just now.
"I’m such a coward," he sobbed heavily, "if only I had stepped in, maybe – "
"Stop." I cut him off before he could finish. "This is in no way your fault. You cannot blame yourself for what happened. It was instinct to run away; anyone would have done the same thing. Frankly, I’m glad you did because who knows what would have happened?" He looked at me, calmed by my words. We stood there in silence for a few moments, and then I spoke again: "you can make this right. Go to the police. Tell them what you saw." Kyle nodded absent-mindedly. We fell silent again. I was about to walk away to give him a chance at being alone, when he suddenly blurted:
"He saw me. He came to me today and told me that if I told the police, he would kill me," his voice cracked. His eyes flooded again, and pierced me with a plea for help. I sank helplessly into a nearby armchair.
"We have to do something," I whispered.
"There is no ‘we’," he said, suddenly angry, "stay out of this." He turned around and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.
* * *
After an hour, I started to get concerned. I didn’t like not knowing where he went, especially when he was so distraught. I picked up the phone and called him on his cell. He picked up after one ring. "I made up my mind," he said firmly, "I can make this right. I’m going to confront Stefan." I tried to intervene, but he continued, "I am not a coward. I can convince him to turn himself in." The phone went dead. I tried redialing but it went straight to voicemail.
"Shit," I muttered to myself as I ran toward the door. How could he be so naive to think that he could confront Stefan? I got into the car and started to drive as fast as I could.
I had been to Stefan’s house before. He and Kyle used to be pretty good friends. But about a year ago, they had a falling out. Stefan started abusing drugs, and had a series of offences that resulted in his fair share of nights in jail. I shuddered at the thought of them ever being friends.
It only took a few minutes to get to his house at the speed I took. I pulled into the driveway, and flew out of my car. I noted Kyle’s car, poorly parked on the side of the road as I darted up the steps toward the front door. It stood ajar. I could hear angry shouts from within. I rushed through the door in time to see Stefan pointing a gun in Kyle’s direction.
"Leave," Stefan was demanding, unaware of my presence. "Turn around right now. If I never see or hear of you again, I’ll let you live. Now leave," he spat the words out aggressively. He looked like a mad man; his once handsome features were distorted with rage. Kyle slowly raised his arms in surrender and started backing toward where I was standing. Stefan began lowering the gun in satisfaction. Kyle turned around and saw me, standing terrified. The sight of me in harm’s way seemed to inspire a menace. He turned back toward Stefan abruptly, and bolted toward him: tackling him to the ground. The gun skidded along the floor, and stopped in front of me. They fought violently. I watched in horror, feeling pathetic and helpless. Stefan’s hands ended clamped around Kyle’s neck.
"Oh my God! Stop it! You’re killing him!" I shrieked as Kyle’s face began to turn red. He was struggling to force him off but Stefan wouldn’t budge. I ran toward the battling pair, and unsuccessfully tried to pull Stefan away. I decided in that instant to grab the gun in vain hope of threatening Stefan. The cold metal felt heavy and awkward in my hands. My hands were shaking uncontrollably…
Then the gun went off.
It was all a blur. Stefan moved aside, revealing a large blood stain, slowly spreading across Kyle’s shirt. Stefan stumbled backward, staring back and forth between me holding the smoking gun and my victim, now lying in pain on the floor. With one last fleeting glance, he darted out the door.
Silence now rang in my ears. It was a deafening silence, one that could only be caused by the stark contrast of the gunshot blast only seconds ago and the utter stillness now. I stood shaking; wide eyes staring in horror at the blood pouring out of the bullet hole. I felt nauseous – the bile was rising in my throat. My legs gave out and I crumpled to the floor. Desperate sobs heaved from my chest as I crawled toward his motionless body. Kyle stared back at me with large, terrified eyes. "It’s going to be okay," I whispered as a sob broke through my lips. I leaned over and began to put pressure on his gaping wound. "I’m here for you." I squeezed his hand, as his emerald eyes held onto mine...
So there you have it.
I decided to leave it in a cliffhanger, to allow the reader to make their own assumptions. (And because I was far over the word limit :P) So thanks for taking the time to read, and I really appreciate any criticism you give me.
Do You Believe?
I am currently taking a world issues class with Mr. Robertson this semester. One could argue that we haven't really done much in the way of work in the class; up until recently, we have been discussing the concept of critical thinking and how the way media presents a topic or global issue can alter worldwide perspectives. In other words, we've spent the class thinking and talking about thinking.
Our first major assignment was to put together a BIAS package, in which partners chose a general world issue and expressed opposing viewpoints to audiences through articles, a point/counter-point excerpt as well as a poster advertisement. My partner and I addressed the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict centered around the settlement area known as the Gaza Strip. Below is the article I wrote from the perspective of Israel; in it, I experimented with terminology, wording, and manipulating words and quotes to get my opinion across through media.
*NOTE: I did not fabricate any quote or fact in this piece. I simply refrained from telling the entire truth - a tactic practiced by large portions of the media. By using these techniques, we as students will become more adept at recognizing them.
**If you want to get a bit of background info on this conflict to see what I didn't tell you search up some information in local newspapers/online at nytimes.com, for example. UN investigator Richard Goldstone's report condemns both parties. i just.. spun it. :)
Our first major assignment was to put together a BIAS package, in which partners chose a general world issue and expressed opposing viewpoints to audiences through articles, a point/counter-point excerpt as well as a poster advertisement. My partner and I addressed the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict centered around the settlement area known as the Gaza Strip. Below is the article I wrote from the perspective of Israel; in it, I experimented with terminology, wording, and manipulating words and quotes to get my opinion across through media.
*NOTE: I did not fabricate any quote or fact in this piece. I simply refrained from telling the entire truth - a tactic practiced by large portions of the media. By using these techniques, we as students will become more adept at recognizing them.
Hamas launches dubbed ‘crimes against humanity’
Jihad-bound Palestinians do not dispute international community’s allegations of committing war crimes
DIANA HALL
Reporter
Since failing to reinstate a six-month-old cease-fire agreement on
U.N investigators involved in a recent
Israeli spokeswoman Maj. Avital Leibovich calls for the Palestinian terrorists to take responsibility for their war crimes.
“If Hamas chose cynically to use those civilians as human shields, then Hamas should be accountable,” she says.
Perhaps even more disturbing is the fact that Hamas militants situate themselves to attack from their own areas of high population within
However, in their mission to eliminate
Palestinian aggression is fueled by their refusal to recognize Israel’s existence as a nation, leaving peace negotiations at a stand-still; a one-state solution would be impossible to establish with Hamas intolerance, while a two-state solution could very well place Israelis at future risk of ‘ethnic cleansing’ at the hands of Palestinians. Israel's only hope for peace may lie with the Palestine Authority (PA) and Fatah, political powers too weak to influence the Hamas majority; unless they can convince Hamas to compromise, there will be no backing down and no final peace treaty. A cease-fire would merely elongate this battle for land and recognition. This would only lead to the prolonged suffering of innocent men, women and children on either side of Israel's borders.
**If you want to get a bit of background info on this conflict to see what I didn't tell you search up some information in local newspapers/online at nytimes.com, for example. UN investigator Richard Goldstone's report condemns both parties. i just.. spun it. :)
Speak For Yourself
Imogen Heap.
Have you heard her name before?
If you don't recognize the name, surely you'll recognize the song 'Hide And Seek' which has graced many TV shows such as 'The OC' with its strange and beautiful electronic harmonies. This song in particular has garnered Imogen some very well deserved fame, but this is far from her best piece of work; all of her songs are pieces of creative compositional artwork.
She combines electronics, her beautiful voice and recorded sounds from all types of strange, exotic instruments and objects you would never think could become part of a breathtaking song. The layers and vocal intricacies are what make Imogen's music so rich and interesting, and her new album 'Ellipse' showcases her skills as a singer and producer of her own music. It is subtle, intricate and beautiful. However, the pop melodies and hooks found throughout 'Speak For Yourself' combined with her distinctive style, make it my favourite album to date.
Have you heard her name before?
If you don't recognize the name, surely you'll recognize the song 'Hide And Seek' which has graced many TV shows such as 'The OC' with its strange and beautiful electronic harmonies. This song in particular has garnered Imogen some very well deserved fame, but this is far from her best piece of work; all of her songs are pieces of creative compositional artwork.
She combines electronics, her beautiful voice and recorded sounds from all types of strange, exotic instruments and objects you would never think could become part of a breathtaking song. The layers and vocal intricacies are what make Imogen's music so rich and interesting, and her new album 'Ellipse' showcases her skills as a singer and producer of her own music. It is subtle, intricate and beautiful. However, the pop melodies and hooks found throughout 'Speak For Yourself' combined with her distinctive style, make it my favourite album to date.
As I've touched on, Imogen does everything herself. She was part of a 2 person band called 'Frou Frou' in which her heavy influence is still notable, but in her solo work she is her own boss, her own producer, her own greatest critic and her own best friend. Accompanying her distinctive vocals and harmonies are instruments like the array mbira, piano, 'The Hang' and anything else she can find. She's used sounds such as tapping on a piano for a beat, or sampling sounds of her and her then-boyfriend eating dinner for the background of the track for 'Hide And Seek' or the sound of a shower running in the background of 'Bad Body Double'. All of these small and unique touches add that special something that draws you into Imogen's music. She also has a fascination with the shapes of sounds, and uses electronic means to manipulate ordinary sounds into strange and extraordinary noises to incorporate into her music.
Her lyrics are also unique and interesting. She doesn't focus as much on rhyme, and instead has a lot of flowing, assonant language that contains cryptic clues as to what the song is actually about. While some songs are more obvious like 'Goodnight And Go';
Why do you have to be so cute?
It's impossible to ignore you!
Must you make me laugh so much?
It's bad enough we get along so well...
some are more cryptic like the song 'The Moment I Said It'
The moment I said it,
The moment I opened my mouth;
Lead in your eyelids
Bulldozed the life out of me.
This is why I love Imogen Heap. She is one talented woman, being able to sing, produce, market, play an incredible number of instruments and write gorgeous lyrics. She's a force to be reckoned with so watch out, because while she isn't in it for the fame and the money, she is unstoppable and she's headed to the top!
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Every Lyric Has a Story Behind It
Each week when writing a blog, I face writers block. I know it may seem ridiculous to some of you because you can literally write about anything, but this only makes it harder for me to come up with an interesting idea.
So, like any normal person facing writers block, I turn to music. That's where I got the idea for my next post(s). I decided to put my iPod on shuffle and for whatever song comes up, I'll take a random lyric from it and base a story upon those words...
"...doc says you're fine or dyin'..." - From the song "Breathe" by U2.
* * *
"Paging Dr. Micheals," the speakers echoed against the silent clinic walls. In one of the examination rooms a young man sat idly waiting upon the crinkling bed paper. He had been impatiently waiting for over an hour, when finally Dr. Michaels entered into the small room.
"What seems to be the problem?" She said while glancing down at his charts.
"I'm really concerned about my health," the young man said with a wobbly voice. He hated going to the doctors, they always made him nervous. "I keep getting this horrible pain in my chest. It flares up sometimes, without warning. Often, this causes a shortness of breath, and results in my gasping for air. And recently I've started going into coughing fits. Just yesterday I started to cough up blood." He glanced up at the doctor anxiously. She was nodding absent-mindedly as she scribbled down what he said. She had no signs of worry on her face, this both relaxed and confused him. He continued, "And I keep getting dizzy." Still no reaction. "And on top of all this, I keep getting really bad migraines," he looked up at Dr. Michaels expectantly. When she did not look up he simply asked, "So what's wrong with me?"
"Don't worry, you're fine," she said smiling softly at the man's obvious fear, "you just need to get some sleep."
The young man looked at her calm expression, quizzically. Confused, he responded, "I'm fine? There's nothing to be concerned about?"
"Just get some rest, eat healthy meals and exercise regularly and you'll be back to your normal self in no time. You're fine."
"Paging Doctor Michaels," the speakers suddenly demanded again.
"You're free to go," Dr. Michaels said as she hustled toward the door. She flung the door open, and hastily walked toward her next call.
"I'm getting a second opinion!" The man yelled after her.
* * *
"And what seems to be the problem today?" Dr. Michaels asked as she entered the room. An elderly man sat calmly in the chair next to the door. As she walked into the room, he headed over to sit on the bed.
"Well, I noticed recently that I have a slight ringing in my left ear. And, every time I turn my head like this," he angled his head awkwardly to the right, "the ringing stops. And - "
Dr. Michaels pen stopped abruptly on the paper, as she looked up worriedly. "Omigosh!" She gasped, cutting off the old man from symptoms he was about to produce."I have some terrible news sir, but you're terribly ill. It may be fatal."
So this post was sort of fun, but its not one of my favourite posts. It was definitely a challenge trying to base a story off of a single random song lyric. There's really no theme to it, I was just ranting like I do in the free writing we do in class. It was really just an ironic (is that the word I'm looking for?) way of using the lyric to make the story more interesting. It was primarily a way for me to experiment with dialogue. So, I would like some advice on writing dialogue, because it has always been my weakness when writing. And, I encourage everyone else to select a lyric and base a story off of it, because it would be interesting to see what everyone else comes up with! Just a thought. So let me know what you think!
So, like any normal person facing writers block, I turn to music. That's where I got the idea for my next post(s). I decided to put my iPod on shuffle and for whatever song comes up, I'll take a random lyric from it and base a story upon those words...
"...doc says you're fine or dyin'..." - From the song "Breathe" by U2.
* * *
"Paging Dr. Micheals," the speakers echoed against the silent clinic walls. In one of the examination rooms a young man sat idly waiting upon the crinkling bed paper. He had been impatiently waiting for over an hour, when finally Dr. Michaels entered into the small room.
"What seems to be the problem?" She said while glancing down at his charts.
"I'm really concerned about my health," the young man said with a wobbly voice. He hated going to the doctors, they always made him nervous. "I keep getting this horrible pain in my chest. It flares up sometimes, without warning. Often, this causes a shortness of breath, and results in my gasping for air. And recently I've started going into coughing fits. Just yesterday I started to cough up blood." He glanced up at the doctor anxiously. She was nodding absent-mindedly as she scribbled down what he said. She had no signs of worry on her face, this both relaxed and confused him. He continued, "And I keep getting dizzy." Still no reaction. "And on top of all this, I keep getting really bad migraines," he looked up at Dr. Michaels expectantly. When she did not look up he simply asked, "So what's wrong with me?"
"Don't worry, you're fine," she said smiling softly at the man's obvious fear, "you just need to get some sleep."
The young man looked at her calm expression, quizzically. Confused, he responded, "I'm fine? There's nothing to be concerned about?"
"Just get some rest, eat healthy meals and exercise regularly and you'll be back to your normal self in no time. You're fine."
"Paging Doctor Michaels," the speakers suddenly demanded again.
"You're free to go," Dr. Michaels said as she hustled toward the door. She flung the door open, and hastily walked toward her next call.
"I'm getting a second opinion!" The man yelled after her.
* * *
"And what seems to be the problem today?" Dr. Michaels asked as she entered the room. An elderly man sat calmly in the chair next to the door. As she walked into the room, he headed over to sit on the bed.
"Well, I noticed recently that I have a slight ringing in my left ear. And, every time I turn my head like this," he angled his head awkwardly to the right, "the ringing stops. And - "
Dr. Michaels pen stopped abruptly on the paper, as she looked up worriedly. "Omigosh!" She gasped, cutting off the old man from symptoms he was about to produce."I have some terrible news sir, but you're terribly ill. It may be fatal."
So this post was sort of fun, but its not one of my favourite posts. It was definitely a challenge trying to base a story off of a single random song lyric. There's really no theme to it, I was just ranting like I do in the free writing we do in class. It was really just an ironic (is that the word I'm looking for?) way of using the lyric to make the story more interesting. It was primarily a way for me to experiment with dialogue. So, I would like some advice on writing dialogue, because it has always been my weakness when writing. And, I encourage everyone else to select a lyric and base a story off of it, because it would be interesting to see what everyone else comes up with! Just a thought. So let me know what you think!
Monday, September 28, 2009
Week 1 mark corrections
Guys!
I just wanted you to know that I've finished reviewing week 1 blogs again, and you were right. The posts and comments were there-I don't know why they weren't last week! Either way, you all got 10/10 for week 1. I can see why you were so stressed out about the marks. I'll change them tomorrow!
I just wanted you to know that I've finished reviewing week 1 blogs again, and you were right. The posts and comments were there-I don't know why they weren't last week! Either way, you all got 10/10 for week 1. I can see why you were so stressed out about the marks. I'll change them tomorrow!
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Its raining, its pouring
A Sunday afternoon, boring and raining…how typical? Although we may think days can be “typical”, when you wake up and start your day, it becomes what you make of it. If you want typical, you’ve got typical. I woke up this morning, in a house, not my own, feeling pretty brutal from the night before. Every rough morning deserves a Timmy Ho’s breakfast, so off I went to Tim’s. Everything bagel, toasted with garlic and herb cream cheese…my usual order. Too typical. “Sesame seed bagel, toasted with cheddar cheese and tomato please.” Perfect. So I eat my bagel in the car on my drive back home. Dangerous, I know…but apparently I couldn’t wait. It was delicious! Not bad for a rainy Sunday morning. I pull into my drive way, finishing off the last bit of bagel and cheese…there was no tomato left. I walk up the stairs, open my door and expect to be greeted by my always over-excited chocolate lab, Guinness. Untypically, he was not there. No one was home. I drag my lifeless self towards the couch and drop myself on to it, situating myself right in front of the TV. The next three hours is a bit of a blur… probably because I was out cold sleeping through the 180 minutes of America’s Best Dance Crew reruns that I actually wanted to watch.
At this point it was one o’clock in the afternoon and after loafing around all morning, I’m in a rush because I slept for three hours. I have lacrosse practice in an hour and having none of my things together. Stick, mouth guard, cleats, pinnie, bag…location…no idea. Those next 15 minutes I spent running up and down the stairs trying to get everything together. Twenty minutes later-a little longer then planned, I get out the door and head to practice. As I’m driving I realize, it is no longer raining. Just my luck, it is scorching hot and I have a two hour practice, with no nets. And for those of you who don’t know what no nets is code for… it is code for run. Run hard, run for two hours, and die. Running our asses off every practice…typical. Much to the teams surprise, it ended up being a lot of fun! We played a lacrosse version of ultimate Frisbee. “Ultimate Lacrosse.” Literally 15 minutes after lacrosse practice was over, the sky turns from beaming rays of heat to angry and grey, promising rain. I drive home, no traffic, no red lights, definitely not typical. Plus, the biggest bonus…no Sunday drivers driving 10 under the speed limit, thank god. I pull up in my driveway next to my mom’s car and realize that I am starving. It is now 4:30pm and I’m craving subway…for a very untypical day that was the one typical thing, I’m a subway freak. Throw my lacrosse bag in the door (literally) and then drive myself to Subway to order the most amazing sub. Sweet Onion Chicken Teriyaki, on whole wheat. Lettuce, cheese, cucumber, green pepper, tons of black olives, jalapenos, mayo and sub sauce. Weird, I know. Unfortunately I couldn’t stuff my face on the drive home like I did earlier that day with Tim Horton’s. Instead I absolutely inhaled it the second I got in the door of my house. I’m not even sure I tasted it, but it smelt delicious! Washed down with coke zero instead of the usual, diet coke. I know, I’m wild.
And to finish off the day just like it started, I’m laying on the couch watching re runs of So You Think You Can Dance Canada with my laptop on my stomach as I struggle to see the screen as I am on my back. My eyelids must weigh 10 pounds, fighting to let me sleep. Waking up on a typical Sunday morning, falling asleep after a not so typical Sunday after all.
At this point it was one o’clock in the afternoon and after loafing around all morning, I’m in a rush because I slept for three hours. I have lacrosse practice in an hour and having none of my things together. Stick, mouth guard, cleats, pinnie, bag…location…no idea. Those next 15 minutes I spent running up and down the stairs trying to get everything together. Twenty minutes later-a little longer then planned, I get out the door and head to practice. As I’m driving I realize, it is no longer raining. Just my luck, it is scorching hot and I have a two hour practice, with no nets. And for those of you who don’t know what no nets is code for… it is code for run. Run hard, run for two hours, and die. Running our asses off every practice…typical. Much to the teams surprise, it ended up being a lot of fun! We played a lacrosse version of ultimate Frisbee. “Ultimate Lacrosse.” Literally 15 minutes after lacrosse practice was over, the sky turns from beaming rays of heat to angry and grey, promising rain. I drive home, no traffic, no red lights, definitely not typical. Plus, the biggest bonus…no Sunday drivers driving 10 under the speed limit, thank god. I pull up in my driveway next to my mom’s car and realize that I am starving. It is now 4:30pm and I’m craving subway…for a very untypical day that was the one typical thing, I’m a subway freak. Throw my lacrosse bag in the door (literally) and then drive myself to Subway to order the most amazing sub. Sweet Onion Chicken Teriyaki, on whole wheat. Lettuce, cheese, cucumber, green pepper, tons of black olives, jalapenos, mayo and sub sauce. Weird, I know. Unfortunately I couldn’t stuff my face on the drive home like I did earlier that day with Tim Horton’s. Instead I absolutely inhaled it the second I got in the door of my house. I’m not even sure I tasted it, but it smelt delicious! Washed down with coke zero instead of the usual, diet coke. I know, I’m wild.
And to finish off the day just like it started, I’m laying on the couch watching re runs of So You Think You Can Dance Canada with my laptop on my stomach as I struggle to see the screen as I am on my back. My eyelids must weigh 10 pounds, fighting to let me sleep. Waking up on a typical Sunday morning, falling asleep after a not so typical Sunday after all.
My love
My love come close;
My love hold tight;
The fog will clear,
And I’ll still be here
My love don’t fret;
My love listen up;
The rain will pass,
The grass will dry,
My love don’t cry;
My love will you smile;
The sun sets in the west,
But will rise in the east,
My love, don’t forget;
My love, don’t regret;
The past is fast asleep-
But I’m still wide awake
I wish you could, see these eyes;
I wish you could, understand why;
Honesty never lies,
And loyalty never dies,
I wish you could,trust the air;
I wish you could,see my stare;
Do you dare,
Knowing that I care?
My love, you see the night sky;
My love, you see the clouds passing by;
But why can’t you see my anxious hands,
That wait to be met by yours?
I’m suffering from a strange sickness,
That’s all to familiar to me,
I’m suffering from a strange sickness,
That only you can cure.
------
I wrote this afternoon, perfect day for writing I must add. Overcast with a bit of rain, always tends to draw some creativity from me.
This poem is basically about someone expressing their care and loyalty to someone while being completely infatuated with them. I felt that there are 3 emotions that are very powerful and they motivate us to great things, scary things, and insane things. Those emotions are happyness, anger and love. When I write poetry, I tend to gravitate towards one of those emotions as they are so powerful and the words come naturally.
So let me know what you liked, what you didn't like, what I did right, what I did wrong ect,ect.
Thanks for reading,
-Van
My love hold tight;
The fog will clear,
And I’ll still be here
My love don’t fret;
My love listen up;
The rain will pass,
The grass will dry,
My love don’t cry;
My love will you smile;
The sun sets in the west,
But will rise in the east,
My love, don’t forget;
My love, don’t regret;
The past is fast asleep-
But I’m still wide awake
I wish you could, see these eyes;
I wish you could, understand why;
Honesty never lies,
And loyalty never dies,
I wish you could,trust the air;
I wish you could,see my stare;
Do you dare,
Knowing that I care?
My love, you see the night sky;
My love, you see the clouds passing by;
But why can’t you see my anxious hands,
That wait to be met by yours?
I’m suffering from a strange sickness,
That’s all to familiar to me,
I’m suffering from a strange sickness,
That only you can cure.
------
I wrote this afternoon, perfect day for writing I must add. Overcast with a bit of rain, always tends to draw some creativity from me.
This poem is basically about someone expressing their care and loyalty to someone while being completely infatuated with them. I felt that there are 3 emotions that are very powerful and they motivate us to great things, scary things, and insane things. Those emotions are happyness, anger and love. When I write poetry, I tend to gravitate towards one of those emotions as they are so powerful and the words come naturally.
So let me know what you liked, what you didn't like, what I did right, what I did wrong ect,ect.
Thanks for reading,
-Van
Today is very boring
Hey this piece I DID NOT WRITE, myself but i love it. I think that ist really helps to show how blind we are to the world.
"Today is very boring" by Jack Prelutsky
Today is very boring,
it's a very boring day,
there is nothing much to look at,
there is nothing much to say,
there's a peacock on my sneakers,
there's a penguin on my head,
there's a dormouse on my doorstep,
I am going back to bed.
Today is very boring,
it is boring through and through,
there is absolutely nothing
that i think i want to do,
I see giants riding rhinos,
and an ogre with a sword,
there's a dragon blowing smoke rings,
I am positively bored.
Today is very boring,
I can hardly help but yawn,
there's a flying saucer landing
in the middle of my lawn,
a volcano just erupted
less than half a mile away,
and I think I felt and earthquake,
it's a very boring day.
----------------------------------------
I have to admit that i have had days like this, where absolutely nothing can make you excited, your just in a type of funk. I believe that everyone has had a day like this.
I love the way this poem is done, the irony is hilarious. It shows you all the wonders of the world, and how this person has become so blind to them. All these events are a metaphor for the beauty of the world that we are missing every single day.
When i read this poem it often makes me think of the news reports that we see everyday.
"a volcano just erupted, less that half a mile away, i think i felt and earthquake, its a very boring day."
Everyday some new catastrophe has presented its self, and we just shake it off and say that its just a Tuesday, its is no big deal. I idea of natural disasters has become a regular news day for us now.
Also, some of the imagery he uses, makes me think of people that i know. The lines about the dragon blowing smoke rings, makes me think of the people standing outside a 7 11 having a smoke. To me, i think the author wrote this poem somewhat by looking at the people around him and imagining them, as these abnormal creatures. Flying saucers could be a reference to distant relatives coming to visit.
In short, i loved this poem and it makes me laugh every time. It forces its readers to look outside the window and notice all the small wonders of the world that we take for granted.
There are so many to look at this poem, these are just some of my thoughts, i would love to hear your thoughts, or comments.
"Today is very boring" by Jack Prelutsky
Today is very boring,
it's a very boring day,
there is nothing much to look at,
there is nothing much to say,
there's a peacock on my sneakers,
there's a penguin on my head,
there's a dormouse on my doorstep,
I am going back to bed.
Today is very boring,
it is boring through and through,
there is absolutely nothing
that i think i want to do,
I see giants riding rhinos,
and an ogre with a sword,
there's a dragon blowing smoke rings,
I am positively bored.
Today is very boring,
I can hardly help but yawn,
there's a flying saucer landing
in the middle of my lawn,
a volcano just erupted
less than half a mile away,
and I think I felt and earthquake,
it's a very boring day.
----------------------------------------
I have to admit that i have had days like this, where absolutely nothing can make you excited, your just in a type of funk. I believe that everyone has had a day like this.
I love the way this poem is done, the irony is hilarious. It shows you all the wonders of the world, and how this person has become so blind to them. All these events are a metaphor for the beauty of the world that we are missing every single day.
When i read this poem it often makes me think of the news reports that we see everyday.
"a volcano just erupted, less that half a mile away, i think i felt and earthquake, its a very boring day."
Everyday some new catastrophe has presented its self, and we just shake it off and say that its just a Tuesday, its is no big deal. I idea of natural disasters has become a regular news day for us now.
Also, some of the imagery he uses, makes me think of people that i know. The lines about the dragon blowing smoke rings, makes me think of the people standing outside a 7 11 having a smoke. To me, i think the author wrote this poem somewhat by looking at the people around him and imagining them, as these abnormal creatures. Flying saucers could be a reference to distant relatives coming to visit.
In short, i loved this poem and it makes me laugh every time. It forces its readers to look outside the window and notice all the small wonders of the world that we take for granted.
There are so many to look at this poem, these are just some of my thoughts, i would love to hear your thoughts, or comments.
Pushing Through
Originally, I was going to blog about something entirely different, however, I lost that document, so here it goes.
We've all been there, it's the night before an essay is due, and you're just starting. For what ever reason, you've left it to the last minute and now you're in for a hectic night of overwhelming stress. There's this specific point and time during that night, it's around 1 am, when you've got 3/4s of your work done, you feel this wave of tired/agony/fml/can'tgoon. At this point, you can't do any work, and contemplate stoping it all for a few hours of sleep.
This wall we face is so powerful, it's as if you're being pushed down by tens of thousands of people, while you're simply trying to stand up. It's so frustrating and difficult, we mostly cave in. However, there are those times, where we pull through. Through all the agony, and the sleepyness, and heavy eyes, we pull through. It seems like the only time we can do this is when we're extremely motivated.
Tonight, i experienced the wall. My family from Oakville visited whom we generally rarely see. I woke up at 7 am this morning, worked a 7 hour shift, and then came home to enjoy the evening with them. My mom was exhausted by the end of the night and left a crazy mess in the kitchen. As opposed to leaving, tonight I began cleaning in an effort to be a 'good son'. It took 2 and a half hours to just clean the dinning area and empty the dishwasher. This is where I hit the wall.
From here on, I worked for another 30 minutes, but I just couldn't do it....it was too difficult, the pile of dishes was so discouraging, I couldn't bring myself to wash for another hour at 2:30 am.
This wall is a mutual enemy, and very difficult to overcome. I respect anyone who can push through it, because it is in no way an easy task.
I`m off to bed now, to sleep for 4 hours, and then wake up to finish those damn dishes.....
Thanks for reading :)
-Van
We've all been there, it's the night before an essay is due, and you're just starting. For what ever reason, you've left it to the last minute and now you're in for a hectic night of overwhelming stress. There's this specific point and time during that night, it's around 1 am, when you've got 3/4s of your work done, you feel this wave of tired/agony/fml/can'tgoon. At this point, you can't do any work, and contemplate stoping it all for a few hours of sleep.
This wall we face is so powerful, it's as if you're being pushed down by tens of thousands of people, while you're simply trying to stand up. It's so frustrating and difficult, we mostly cave in. However, there are those times, where we pull through. Through all the agony, and the sleepyness, and heavy eyes, we pull through. It seems like the only time we can do this is when we're extremely motivated.
Tonight, i experienced the wall. My family from Oakville visited whom we generally rarely see. I woke up at 7 am this morning, worked a 7 hour shift, and then came home to enjoy the evening with them. My mom was exhausted by the end of the night and left a crazy mess in the kitchen. As opposed to leaving, tonight I began cleaning in an effort to be a 'good son'. It took 2 and a half hours to just clean the dinning area and empty the dishwasher. This is where I hit the wall.
From here on, I worked for another 30 minutes, but I just couldn't do it....it was too difficult, the pile of dishes was so discouraging, I couldn't bring myself to wash for another hour at 2:30 am.
This wall is a mutual enemy, and very difficult to overcome. I respect anyone who can push through it, because it is in no way an easy task.
I`m off to bed now, to sleep for 4 hours, and then wake up to finish those damn dishes.....
Thanks for reading :)
-Van
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