All books are different.
Books can range from just about palm sized to huge ones. Many authors will stick to the formula to get their books read. That is just about maybe 8 or 9 inches tall for a hardcover. Paperback books are usually smaller, with smaller font. The font is usually about ten to twelve, unless it is a large print book.
Large print books are very annoying to me. It is impossible to adjust my eyes to them. That is why I never read them. But there are people with declining eyesight who prefer them.
I have read tiny books, of maybe 8 font or so. I can adjust my eyes to that better. I read one book once that had red font. I actually got used to it, and took a little bit to readjust to black.
But the one thing I think that authors should change for their books, is to have round corners.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Week 13 Prompt III
63. To see a world in a grain of sand. and a heaven in a wild flower, hold infinity in the palm of your hand and eternity in an hour. -William Blake
Most people think of dirt as either something to walk on, something to plant in, or something disgusting.
I think of it as something to slide on.
Baseball requires dirt. This is proven by the fact that even baseballs with entirely grass infields still have dirt at the bases. Different types of dirt can really affect the game. Hard packed dirt can make ground balls skip really hard. Even good dirt can have imperfections, once I was moving over to backhand a flat ground ball that had not bounced once, and it ricocheted off a rock and hit me in the face.
For sliding, dirt is huge. Dirt that is too rocky can injure the slider, even if they slide correctly to avoid scrapes. I have encountered dirt that is really bad sliding dirt. I tried a pop-up slide into second once and the dirt was so sticky, though not wet at all, that I ended up coming up couple feet short of the base.
It's hard to dive back into a base with sticky dirt as well.
More higher level fields have entirely grass infields except for the bases, eliminating the dirt aspect for the fielders. If the grass were perfectly flat, then it would probably assist the fielders in terms of fielding the ball, though the ball would bounce higher, and be faster, increasing the double play rate greatly.
I generally hold a disliking towards dirt, but baseball dirt is different. I see a world in baseball dirt.
Most people think of dirt as either something to walk on, something to plant in, or something disgusting.
I think of it as something to slide on.
Baseball requires dirt. This is proven by the fact that even baseballs with entirely grass infields still have dirt at the bases. Different types of dirt can really affect the game. Hard packed dirt can make ground balls skip really hard. Even good dirt can have imperfections, once I was moving over to backhand a flat ground ball that had not bounced once, and it ricocheted off a rock and hit me in the face.
For sliding, dirt is huge. Dirt that is too rocky can injure the slider, even if they slide correctly to avoid scrapes. I have encountered dirt that is really bad sliding dirt. I tried a pop-up slide into second once and the dirt was so sticky, though not wet at all, that I ended up coming up couple feet short of the base.
It's hard to dive back into a base with sticky dirt as well.
More higher level fields have entirely grass infields except for the bases, eliminating the dirt aspect for the fielders. If the grass were perfectly flat, then it would probably assist the fielders in terms of fielding the ball, though the ball would bounce higher, and be faster, increasing the double play rate greatly.
I generally hold a disliking towards dirt, but baseball dirt is different. I see a world in baseball dirt.
Monday, May 7, 2012
Week 13 Prompt II
62. For want of a nail the shoe was lost. For want of a shoe the horse was lost. For want of a horse the rider was lost. For want of a rider the battle was lost. For want of a battle the kingdom was lost. And all for the want of a horseshoe nail.
A player on my college baseball team sat on the dugout floor pulling the spikes off his cleats.
"Putting them on?" another player asked.
"Taking them off," he corrected, "I'm missing two, they overbalance me."
Cleats are important. Otherwise baseball players wouldn't use them. I have experienced not wearing cleats, and have felt like the outfield was a slip and slide.
There also is a huge difference between metal and plastic cleats. Plastic cleats are okay on dirt, but on the grass, they don't dig in at all. Metal cleats dig in, to help you make sharp cuts.
Other sports use them, such as golf, or soccer, or ice climbing. And a good pair of shoes are important for basketball, or tennis, or life.
People who don't wear good shoes can get sore feet, back, knees, or other things.
There are people who have tons of shoes, as a fashion statement or whatever. Shoes can affect a lot of people. And a horse's shoe can save a kingdom.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Week 13 Prompt I
68. I think, therefore I am.
If you think about it, thinking is an interesting concept. If you think about thinking, then you find out that it's hard to think when you're thinking about it. And when you're not thinking about thinking, you are generally dreaming.
And dreaming is an interesting concept. No one knows why we dream, though it takes our thought patterns and fires randomly. Why is unknown. There are many theories though.
One of which is that we dream to prepare for future events. Basically, that if we experience a tramautic event, then we will be better prepared for it next time. There are also theories that purport that dreaming does nothing. Also that dreaming determines which connections in the brain are necessary and which can be removed.
I dream , and my dreams have changed drastically over the years.
I had dreams when I was four or so of things such as the purple creature from the McDonald's commercials lurking out in our woods, then going in to eat our chickens.
Or that I went into our backyard, and encountered a tiger. Which promptly ate me, starting with my right palm.
Or when I saw a commercial with a lobster clawing someone's ear, and then I dreamed of a lobster sitting on a table in our living room, then levitating and flying towards me.
Now, none of these such dreams occur, namely, I believe, because I don't need them. I'm not likely to have to run away from a tiger. If I did, then it would be helpful to have dreamed of it first, because next time I would run away, instead of standing there, and letting it eat me.
But now I dream of important things, such as baseball and classes, which seems to me to be preparing me for if things that might actually happen to me do happen, unlike tiger attacks.
If you think about it, thinking is an interesting concept. If you think about thinking, then you find out that it's hard to think when you're thinking about it. And when you're not thinking about thinking, you are generally dreaming.
And dreaming is an interesting concept. No one knows why we dream, though it takes our thought patterns and fires randomly. Why is unknown. There are many theories though.
One of which is that we dream to prepare for future events. Basically, that if we experience a tramautic event, then we will be better prepared for it next time. There are also theories that purport that dreaming does nothing. Also that dreaming determines which connections in the brain are necessary and which can be removed.
I dream , and my dreams have changed drastically over the years.
I had dreams when I was four or so of things such as the purple creature from the McDonald's commercials lurking out in our woods, then going in to eat our chickens.
Or that I went into our backyard, and encountered a tiger. Which promptly ate me, starting with my right palm.
Or when I saw a commercial with a lobster clawing someone's ear, and then I dreamed of a lobster sitting on a table in our living room, then levitating and flying towards me.
Now, none of these such dreams occur, namely, I believe, because I don't need them. I'm not likely to have to run away from a tiger. If I did, then it would be helpful to have dreamed of it first, because next time I would run away, instead of standing there, and letting it eat me.
But now I dream of important things, such as baseball and classes, which seems to me to be preparing me for if things that might actually happen to me do happen, unlike tiger attacks.
Week 12 Prompt III
59. The door slammed, and I never looked back.
I arrived five minutes before the 5:15 time we were supposed to be there. I joined a group of players talking before we went to collect the gear. I would not have thought it was the right bus except that the whole rest of the team were there. The bus said "Bar Harbor Tour Bus" right on it. The coach had said we would have a coach bus, and this didn't look like one.
We entered the bus, and took places. It was a pretty nice bus, with soft cushions and everything, though the floor rose up for some reason on every other seat, so that only one person could sit there. We had few enough players that one player sat at each seat, with plenty of seats to spare.
We were waiting on two players, so we sat waiting. We were supposed to leave at 7:30. The bus driver was elderly, and he sat reading the comics section of the newspaper.
"Hey!" one player called, "Mr. Bus Driver?"
"He's busy," another player teased, "Can't you see he's reading the funnies?"
"What is it?" the bus driver asked, having determined that we were talking about him.
"Can you push this thing?" the player asked.
"If it says I can go 80, I'll go 80," he said.
That was a good taste of what kind of a driver we had. An excellent one. We shot down the road. Once, we hit a construction zone of one lane, and a cone had blown over into the middle of the remaining lane. Without slowing down, the driver breezed around it.
We got closer, and one of the players kept saying how he lived right here. We turn, and he calls out:
"Hey! That's the wrong way! You should have gone right there, not left!"
"Why didn't you say something!?" the coach yelled back.
"I thought you knew where you were going!"
We drove along a ways, then came to an intersection.
"No, don't-" the player started and stopped, as we turned left.
"This will get us there," the coach said, "Or we'll turn around."
"Okay," the player said skeptically, "But this is a one way street to the ocean here."
We drove along the narrow road, with barely room for us, if another car had tried to go by us they probably would have had to pull over. There was one spot with a car parked on either side of the road opposite from each other.
The bus shot through with about an inch to spare on either side.
"That's some skilled driving right there," a player said.
We drove down and pulled to a stop at the end of the road, with the beach beyond.
"I told you it was a one way street," our player said.
After that, he gave directions.
I arrived five minutes before the 5:15 time we were supposed to be there. I joined a group of players talking before we went to collect the gear. I would not have thought it was the right bus except that the whole rest of the team were there. The bus said "Bar Harbor Tour Bus" right on it. The coach had said we would have a coach bus, and this didn't look like one.
We entered the bus, and took places. It was a pretty nice bus, with soft cushions and everything, though the floor rose up for some reason on every other seat, so that only one person could sit there. We had few enough players that one player sat at each seat, with plenty of seats to spare.
We were waiting on two players, so we sat waiting. We were supposed to leave at 7:30. The bus driver was elderly, and he sat reading the comics section of the newspaper.
"Hey!" one player called, "Mr. Bus Driver?"
"He's busy," another player teased, "Can't you see he's reading the funnies?"
"What is it?" the bus driver asked, having determined that we were talking about him.
"Can you push this thing?" the player asked.
"If it says I can go 80, I'll go 80," he said.
That was a good taste of what kind of a driver we had. An excellent one. We shot down the road. Once, we hit a construction zone of one lane, and a cone had blown over into the middle of the remaining lane. Without slowing down, the driver breezed around it.
We got closer, and one of the players kept saying how he lived right here. We turn, and he calls out:
"Hey! That's the wrong way! You should have gone right there, not left!"
"Why didn't you say something!?" the coach yelled back.
"I thought you knew where you were going!"
We drove along a ways, then came to an intersection.
"No, don't-" the player started and stopped, as we turned left.
"This will get us there," the coach said, "Or we'll turn around."
"Okay," the player said skeptically, "But this is a one way street to the ocean here."
We drove along the narrow road, with barely room for us, if another car had tried to go by us they probably would have had to pull over. There was one spot with a car parked on either side of the road opposite from each other.
The bus shot through with about an inch to spare on either side.
"That's some skilled driving right there," a player said.
We drove down and pulled to a stop at the end of the road, with the beach beyond.
"I told you it was a one way street," our player said.
After that, he gave directions.
Week 12 Theme
Ceremonial first pitches in baseball games are annoying.
The tradition was started when President Taft did it 1910. Considering that he was 300 pounds, presumably it wouldn't have been a very good pitch. But since Taft, every president has thrown out at least one opening pitch, no matter how badly they do it. Clinton was the first president to get the ball successfully to the plate.
Bush had the best ceremonial first pitch ever by a president with his pitch, which was a strike right down the middle. Though it wasn't thrown all that hard, it was noted because it was just after 9-11 and he was wearing a bulletproof vest while doing it, and it had a symbolic strength symbol to the country, to kick off the World Series.
I was hoping that meant a new tradition of presidents at least able to throw strikes, but then Obama comes in, and tries to throw a pitch. That was a disaster. He should stick to basketball.
Of course, all sorts of famous people try to, namely singers. And they always are horrific. Like Justin Bieber. Or probably the worst opening pitch ever, Mariah Carey.
Some bad first pitches are enjoyable, such as the animatronic Tyrannosaurus Rex.
But honestly, why do baseball teams keep having famous people with horrendous baseball skills throwing out the first pitch? It makes a mockery of the game!
Sometimes it is a former player, but Randy Johnson throwing out the opening pitch just seems a little bit like cheating.
Well, there is nothing we can do about the musicians, but one thing is certain, every president will at some point throw out an opening pitch. They've been doing it for 100 years. So, we need to start voting for presidential candidates who can throw a baseball.
At presidential debates, we need to start asking them: "Have you ever played baseball?" And we can't just go on whether they are athletic or not, just look at Obama. Baseball is America's sport, and we need America's president to be able to represent America's sport well. We need to make this an issue so that we get heard, so that we don't get any more lousy presidential pitches.
At debates, the moderator should hand the candidate a glove, and say "Think fast."
If they can't at least look like a little leaguer, then they are not fit to serve.
It doesn't seem like Mitt Romney is very athletic, let alone can throw a baseball. But I say give him a chance, maybe he can make some changes around Washington. Like being able to throw a strike or two.
The tradition was started when President Taft did it 1910. Considering that he was 300 pounds, presumably it wouldn't have been a very good pitch. But since Taft, every president has thrown out at least one opening pitch, no matter how badly they do it. Clinton was the first president to get the ball successfully to the plate.
Bush had the best ceremonial first pitch ever by a president with his pitch, which was a strike right down the middle. Though it wasn't thrown all that hard, it was noted because it was just after 9-11 and he was wearing a bulletproof vest while doing it, and it had a symbolic strength symbol to the country, to kick off the World Series.
I was hoping that meant a new tradition of presidents at least able to throw strikes, but then Obama comes in, and tries to throw a pitch. That was a disaster. He should stick to basketball.
Of course, all sorts of famous people try to, namely singers. And they always are horrific. Like Justin Bieber. Or probably the worst opening pitch ever, Mariah Carey.
Some bad first pitches are enjoyable, such as the animatronic Tyrannosaurus Rex.
But honestly, why do baseball teams keep having famous people with horrendous baseball skills throwing out the first pitch? It makes a mockery of the game!
Sometimes it is a former player, but Randy Johnson throwing out the opening pitch just seems a little bit like cheating.
Well, there is nothing we can do about the musicians, but one thing is certain, every president will at some point throw out an opening pitch. They've been doing it for 100 years. So, we need to start voting for presidential candidates who can throw a baseball.
At presidential debates, we need to start asking them: "Have you ever played baseball?" And we can't just go on whether they are athletic or not, just look at Obama. Baseball is America's sport, and we need America's president to be able to represent America's sport well. We need to make this an issue so that we get heard, so that we don't get any more lousy presidential pitches.
At debates, the moderator should hand the candidate a glove, and say "Think fast."
If they can't at least look like a little leaguer, then they are not fit to serve.
It doesn't seem like Mitt Romney is very athletic, let alone can throw a baseball. But I say give him a chance, maybe he can make some changes around Washington. Like being able to throw a strike or two.
Week 11 Theme Retry
We arrived at the baseball field. There was no outfield fence. Left field was backed by bracken and woods. Center field merged into a hill, which fell down into a soccer field. If it was hit there, keep running. Right field terminated in a hill rising up about twenty feet in fair ground, then several large trees and a house, then a road right behind it.
Directly behind the batter was the white school. I had difficulty in right field seeing the ball off the bat.
We arrived at the baseball field. This one at least had an outfield fence, even though it was one of those collapsible mesh ones, that if you touched it it would fall over. The fence also served as the fence for the softball field, and behind that, was the beach, then the ocean.
There was no out of play fence along the side, just a line which at one point went right through a huge tree. So you could rob a ball from a tree. Just out of play was a paved street, on the other side of which were the college buildings. A few windows almost got taken out.
The right field fence was a wooden farm style fence, with a yard directly abutting it. At one point during the game, some adults with little kids came out of the gate, and walked directly through the outfield, and play had to be stopped, while the umpire yelled "Get off the field!" at them, and they acted like they couldn't hear, and made their casual way along.
We arrived at the baseball field. It was Mansfield Stadium.
Directly behind the batter was the white school. I had difficulty in right field seeing the ball off the bat.
***
We arrived at the baseball field. This one at least had an outfield fence, even though it was one of those collapsible mesh ones, that if you touched it it would fall over. The fence also served as the fence for the softball field, and behind that, was the beach, then the ocean.
There was no out of play fence along the side, just a line which at one point went right through a huge tree. So you could rob a ball from a tree. Just out of play was a paved street, on the other side of which were the college buildings. A few windows almost got taken out.
The right field fence was a wooden farm style fence, with a yard directly abutting it. At one point during the game, some adults with little kids came out of the gate, and walked directly through the outfield, and play had to be stopped, while the umpire yelled "Get off the field!" at them, and they acted like they couldn't hear, and made their casual way along.
***
We arrived at the baseball field. It was Mansfield Stadium.
Week 11 Prompt III
A small flock of little brown birds, converged and diverged, in the air and on the floor, converged and diverged, through the long terminal of the airport.
"The airplane was hit just after takeoff by birds, a large flock. Fortunately, no one was injured."
"The cruise ship sank, spilling it's passengers into the water. Over 120 Americans were on board, and several Americans are still missing."
"The airplane was hit just after takeoff by birds, a large flock. Fortunately, no one was injured."
"The cruise ship sank, spilling it's passengers into the water. Over 120 Americans were on board, and several Americans are still missing."
Week 11 Prompt II
Tools:
I have the habit of losing things. But not just losing them. A particular way of losing them.
I say to myself "Oh, I won't remember that I put that here, I'll just move it somewhere else where I will remember it."
And then I remember it being where I moved it from, but not where I moved it to.
I often do this with tools. There was a swiss army knife from my grandfather sitting on the table for a while, then I said "I'll forget it's here." So I moved it elsewhere.
Where that elsewhere is I am yet to find, but I am sure I shall locate it sometime.
By the way, I think that I'm going to forget where my blog is on the internet, I think I'll move it to somewhere I will remember it...
I have the habit of losing things. But not just losing them. A particular way of losing them.
I say to myself "Oh, I won't remember that I put that here, I'll just move it somewhere else where I will remember it."
And then I remember it being where I moved it from, but not where I moved it to.
I often do this with tools. There was a swiss army knife from my grandfather sitting on the table for a while, then I said "I'll forget it's here." So I moved it elsewhere.
Where that elsewhere is I am yet to find, but I am sure I shall locate it sometime.
By the way, I think that I'm going to forget where my blog is on the internet, I think I'll move it to somewhere I will remember it...
Week 11 Prompt I
Uncle Henry's Ad-
Build it and they will come. One backstop for baseball. Has all the fence, post, fittings for a large backstop. Was used about four years. Also have some side line fence for an additional price. $1000 cash.
Backstops are an integral part of baseball. If there were no backstop, then there would have to be ten players on the field, one extra one to back up the catcher. Because any passed ball or wild pitch would never stop.
A backstop is more important than any other fence on the field. I have experienced fields with no outfield fence, no out of play fence along the side, just a backstop. A good backstop will prevent many foul balls from escaping the field. Which is useful if you are playing on a field with trees or buildings directly behind the backstop.
But all backstops should stop passed balls. There was one field I played on with a backstop with wood on the bottom. I would run on the passed ball, and the ball would either bounce off the wood all the way back to the pitcher, or it would go underneath and out of play.
As a baserunner I prefer one farther back, to give more time to the baserunner. Nothing like going from first to third on a passed ball.
I enjoy backstops very much, but $1000 used? No thanks.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Week 12 Prompt II
60. I held you in my arms.
"Tom, would you like to go next?"
"Sure."
I took the evaluation form to the teacher, then returned to collect my laptop. I turned and faced the audience.
"Mitch." I called. "Mitch!"
He heard me the second time, and looked up.
"How do I plug this in?" I asked, gesturing at the laptop.
"To the projector?" he asked, coming up.
"Yes. I have no idea."
"Do you have a port for it?"
"Yes."
He plugged it in, and I started my speech. At the beginning of the semester an 8-10 minute speech would have sounded impossible, but now, it went a little quickly. I was doing Geographic Information Systems, one of my favorite subjects. I was showing how to manoeuver about in ArcGIS 10. I realized from the person holding up the time cards in the back that I was running out of time. So I hurried to show some functions. I show how to clip, then I realize that I am at ten minutes or so, so I hurry to show the finished product by turning the huge TIN layers on.
And the TIN's freeze the computer.
I fiddle with it, and get the time to explain that the TIN's are over a gigabyte and a half size for a small area. That it gives the appearance of elevation by turning contours for elevation into triangles. I tried to open my original file, while getting to explain that in GIS, patience is the biggest thing, and that something will generally freeze on you.
The person in the back with the time cards held up the 1 minute and 2 minute cards together.
"Good, I like that," I said to him, "Innovative, very good."
I cancelled the drawing of the TIN, then tried again. I eventually realized that I would have to give up and conclude my speech without a final product, and lose a bunch of points on the speech for not having it. I thought about doing my closing for the speech, but realized that I needed the finished product for it. Then I remembered that I had taken a screenshot of my map with the TIN's for my GIS class earlier that week that I had never used, and had not gotten around to deleting.
I hurriedly opened it, and hoped that it would not be slowed down by the TIN's still trying to load. It opened quickly, and I was able to show my finished product and get out of my speech at 18 and a half minutes.
"You only left me with ten minutes," the next person complained, "I'll have to hurry."
I got my grade back from the teacher at the end of the class, and I had gotten 80/80. She had not taken time off for almost going twice as long as I should have gone.
It's possible she thought I just did really good for my speech. Or she might have thought that mine was more interesting than the two it was sandwiched between, cheerleading and braiding hair.
"Tom, would you like to go next?"
"Sure."
I took the evaluation form to the teacher, then returned to collect my laptop. I turned and faced the audience.
"Mitch." I called. "Mitch!"
He heard me the second time, and looked up.
"How do I plug this in?" I asked, gesturing at the laptop.
"To the projector?" he asked, coming up.
"Yes. I have no idea."
"Do you have a port for it?"
"Yes."
He plugged it in, and I started my speech. At the beginning of the semester an 8-10 minute speech would have sounded impossible, but now, it went a little quickly. I was doing Geographic Information Systems, one of my favorite subjects. I was showing how to manoeuver about in ArcGIS 10. I realized from the person holding up the time cards in the back that I was running out of time. So I hurried to show some functions. I show how to clip, then I realize that I am at ten minutes or so, so I hurry to show the finished product by turning the huge TIN layers on.
And the TIN's freeze the computer.
I fiddle with it, and get the time to explain that the TIN's are over a gigabyte and a half size for a small area. That it gives the appearance of elevation by turning contours for elevation into triangles. I tried to open my original file, while getting to explain that in GIS, patience is the biggest thing, and that something will generally freeze on you.
The person in the back with the time cards held up the 1 minute and 2 minute cards together.
"Good, I like that," I said to him, "Innovative, very good."
I cancelled the drawing of the TIN, then tried again. I eventually realized that I would have to give up and conclude my speech without a final product, and lose a bunch of points on the speech for not having it. I thought about doing my closing for the speech, but realized that I needed the finished product for it. Then I remembered that I had taken a screenshot of my map with the TIN's for my GIS class earlier that week that I had never used, and had not gotten around to deleting.
I hurriedly opened it, and hoped that it would not be slowed down by the TIN's still trying to load. It opened quickly, and I was able to show my finished product and get out of my speech at 18 and a half minutes.
"You only left me with ten minutes," the next person complained, "I'll have to hurry."
I got my grade back from the teacher at the end of the class, and I had gotten 80/80. She had not taken time off for almost going twice as long as I should have gone.
It's possible she thought I just did really good for my speech. Or she might have thought that mine was more interesting than the two it was sandwiched between, cheerleading and braiding hair.
Friday, April 27, 2012
Week 12 Prompt I
61 A. 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover!
You could leave them for another,
Or just leave and let them suffer,
Strand them and make them pay the cover,
You could become famous by learning to hover,
Or by getting arrested for someone you smothered,
Get appointed to a huge salary by the governor,
Or work for the CIA undercover,
Or worst of all, you could run off with their mother.
You could leave them for another,
Or just leave and let them suffer,
Strand them and make them pay the cover,
You could become famous by learning to hover,
Or by getting arrested for someone you smothered,
Get appointed to a huge salary by the governor,
Or work for the CIA undercover,
Or worst of all, you could run off with their mother.
Monday, April 23, 2012
Week 11 Theme
I traversed my way through my classes. My speaking teacher noticed my EMCC baseball shirt, and asked how we were doing. I told her okay. I went to my math class. It was hot, so I pulled up the sleeves of my blue long sleeved EMCC baseball shirt that I was wearing underneath.
I got to the bus. We were going to the very bottom of the state, so I pulled on my EMCC baseball windbreaker to combat the cool morning air. I tossed my EMCC baseball bag onto the Bar Harbour tour bus. "You can only wear your blue long sleeved underneath," the coach said, "If you're going to wear long sleeves, it has to be that. Let's be good representatives of the college."
I think we were.
***
I got to the bus. We were going to the very bottom of the state, so I pulled on my EMCC baseball windbreaker to combat the cool morning air. I tossed my EMCC baseball bag onto the Bar Harbour tour bus. "You can only wear your blue long sleeved underneath," the coach said, "If you're going to wear long sleeves, it has to be that. Let's be good representatives of the college."
I think we were.
Week 10 Theme
I was walking along the campus. Rain was pouring down onto my blue and yellow EMCC baseball windbreaker. I watched droplets of rain gather up and drip off from the brim of my blue and yellow EMCC baseball hat. I have to jump to the side as someone runs by me.
***
I am walking back after my class. My socks are pretty wet now, and I have to jump off the path into some mud to avoid a few people running from the dorms. I get inside, and take off my hat. It is about ten pounds, sodden all through.
***
"Hey Felicia, you look really silly running around all over the campus," I tell her a few weeks before. "Imagine if everyone ran all over the college like you do? It look really queer, not to mention that the walking people would be having to jump out of the way all the time."
***
Rainy days are now called "Everyone on campus running around like Felicia" days.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Week 10 Prompt III
47. Nature red in tooth and claw. The Law of the Jungle. Survival of the Fittest.
The score was 32-0 in about the third inning when they decided to call it quits. I was already out at the plate, with the pitcher ready to pitch to me and everything. "They were too scared to face you," the coach said.
The catcher threw the ball back to the pitcher from his knees, and it sailed over the pitcher's heads, into center field. A run scored. It was now 22-1, instead of 22-0. The Frankfort fans honked their horns and screamed for approximately ten minutes in excitement of scoring a run.
I was pitching, against this green team, and I was doing pretty good, only given up ten runs or so in the inning. I threw a passed ball, and ran in to cover the plate as the runner came in. I slipped as I got to the plate, and the freaking runner cleated me in the neck in his slide. I had to leave the game, but I made sure of his number. The next game, I got to face him again, and threw as hard as I could, trying to strike him out. I walked him twice in 8 combined pitches.
I played with the player who I had cleated a few years later, and I apologized to him at one point.
"It wasn't me," he said, "I was never cleated in the neck."
"Good," I said, "I apologize to you for your teammate that I did cleat then."
Week 10 Prompt II
49. Doesn't matter where you begin, you'll end up back here.
My mother hurried up behind me. I noticed her, and went to get my sister. We went to our grandmother's car. We got inside. My grandmother started to drive off.
"I'm not in yet!" my sister exclaimed, one foot in, and one out.
"She's not there yet?" I asked my sister.
"No," she replied, "I don't see her anyways."
She ran towards the college building. I started walking, then noticed my mother hurrying up behind me. I waved to her, and caught up to my sister.
"She's here," I informed her.
"Oh, good."
We returned to the car. We had not noticed it because it was our grandmother's car instead of ours. I entered the car.
"Hi," our grandmother said.
My sister struggled trying to get her backpack into the backseat, with one foot in and one out.
"There wasn't room in the parking lot," my mother said, "Our car's parked over in Great Skates."
Slowly, our grandmother started driving.
"I'm not in yet!" Felicia exclaimed.
My mother hurried up behind me. I noticed her, and went to get my sister. We went to our grandmother's car. We got inside. My grandmother started to drive off.
"I'm not in yet!" my sister exclaimed, one foot in, and one out.
***
"She's not there yet?" I asked my sister.
"No," she replied, "I don't see her anyways."
She ran towards the college building. I started walking, then noticed my mother hurrying up behind me. I waved to her, and caught up to my sister.
"She's here," I informed her.
"Oh, good."
We returned to the car. We had not noticed it because it was our grandmother's car instead of ours. I entered the car.
"Hi," our grandmother said.
My sister struggled trying to get her backpack into the backseat, with one foot in and one out.
"There wasn't room in the parking lot," my mother said, "Our car's parked over in Great Skates."
Slowly, our grandmother started driving.
"I'm not in yet!" Felicia exclaimed.
***
He turned and saw someone approaching him. It was his mother. He collected his sister, and they made their way to the car. It was their grandmother's car instead of their own. He knew that they had been out driving, and he assumed they had returned to the college together, but he had no idea where their car was.
He opened the door, and entered the car.
"Hi," his grandmother said.
"There wasn't room in the parking lot," his mother informed him, "Our car's parked over in Great Skates."
Apparently, his grandmother was unused to passengers in the back, as she started driving off with his sister still half out of the car.
"I'm not in yet!" she exclaimed.
***
She pulled around the curve and towards the college. They stopped out of the way. After a while, her daughter noticed her own daughter and son walking away, and hurried out to get them. The grandmother watched as they came up to her car. She started moving the car.
"I'm not in yet!" her granddaughter exclaimed.
***
My grandmother stopped the car, and Felicia pulled herself in.
"She's slow getting into the car all the time," my mother told my grandmother.
"Oh, that's fine," she said.
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