There are a couple of posts that I could try to redo, except I cannot think of anything for them. They were the autobiographical ones that I had so much difficulty with back in week 5, I think mostly. Since you didn't ask for a rewrite, I'll assume that it is okay if I don't try to get something on them, because I think at this point that I would only make them worse trying to redo them.
Thanks, I enjoyed the semester.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Week 10 Opinion Redo
A big problem that a lot of people have is stress. Many people are way overstressed. That stress is caused by them getting upset over things, often minor.
The best way to avoid stress is to take things lightly. But people need things to take seriously. They need things that they are devout about. So what I have found is the best thing is to try to only be serious about things that are within your control. At least, if they are in your control, then you can at least have done your best.
For example, being really into politics is rough because the candidate I like will lose, and I will get over it, but if I were seriously into politics, then it would be very disappointing.
For me, I can really notice this with things such as watching sports, as there are some sports teams that I like to watch. But watching sports is one of those things that the viewer has no control over. So it is very disappointing when the team does not do well, but there is nothing that I can do about it and in watching it am only setting myself up for disappointment. The best thing to do is to find something you can enjoy, like reading books. Or listening to music. Or playing sports. I try to keep everything more in terms of this sort of thing that I have some sort of control over.
There are some things that I cannot avoid, but if I do the best I can to prevent myself from getting upset over little things and to keep everything I can within my own personal control, then it makes everything just a little easier.
The best way to avoid stress is to take things lightly. But people need things to take seriously. They need things that they are devout about. So what I have found is the best thing is to try to only be serious about things that are within your control. At least, if they are in your control, then you can at least have done your best.
For example, being really into politics is rough because the candidate I like will lose, and I will get over it, but if I were seriously into politics, then it would be very disappointing.
For me, I can really notice this with things such as watching sports, as there are some sports teams that I like to watch. But watching sports is one of those things that the viewer has no control over. So it is very disappointing when the team does not do well, but there is nothing that I can do about it and in watching it am only setting myself up for disappointment. The best thing to do is to find something you can enjoy, like reading books. Or listening to music. Or playing sports. I try to keep everything more in terms of this sort of thing that I have some sort of control over.
There are some things that I cannot avoid, but if I do the best I can to prevent myself from getting upset over little things and to keep everything I can within my own personal control, then it makes everything just a little easier.
Week 15 Revision
We were driving to Bar Harbor to see my grandmother and her friends, Nita and Suzie. I had heard of them when they went on a wild drive across the country in an RV with my grandmother.
When we got to the apartment they were staying in, my grandmother took my mother in, as Nita and Suzie were not dressed yet.
They entered the rented room, where Suzie was getting things ready, and Nita was still in her nightgown eating a sticky bun.
"Oh, hi!" she said, "Come in, I'm just eating one of Jean's cookies."
They talked for a moment.
"I think I should get out of bed soon," Nita said, "I wonder what I should wear?"
"Clothes," Suzie replied.
"Yes, that sounds good," Nita replied.
"Better than that saran wrap you wore yesterday. People stared."
Once they got ready, they came outside. Suzie rode with my grandmother in her car, and Nita ended up coming with us.
Nita walked over and entered our car. She is about 84, and lively for her age considering she just recently had surgery.
"Hi!" she said, "I've seen you a lot in the pictures."
Felicia commented about how it has not been picnic weather.
"Yes," Nita replied, "But I prefer eating inside anyhow. Away from all the ants. And uncles. Oh, I'm going to love you, you haven't heard all of my old jokes."
Several minutes and jokes from Nita later, we arrived at the restaurant.
"Suzie and Jean aren't here yet," my mother said, "They should be here soon-"
We turned around, and Nita was already off into the restaurant. We hurried in after her.
"Table for seven," my mother said.
"Six," I corrected.
"That will be just a minute," the cashier said.
We stood off to the side so that people could get by us, and Nita found an empty seat to sit down in next to us, with her back to someone else. We stood waiting, and then my grandmother entered.
"You should come in a little farther, away from the doorway out of people's way." Felicia said to her.
She moved in closer to us, smushing me between her, my mother, and a vending machine. We stood like that for five minutes or so, until they got a table, with me standing on one foot trying to do my best "I'm as thin as a pencil" impression. I had had bad experiences with vending machines before, but this one certainly made the top five.
Nita sat at the end because she was claustrophobic, across from Suzie.
Suzie had long grey hair, and is in her sixties. On the RV trip, she refused to sit down, and ended up getting hurled into and taking out a table when they stopped suddenly. They ended up taping the leg of the table back on. They also ended up taping the RV together when it started falling apart.
She ordered pancakes and eggs, and was disappointed that I wasn't going to help her eat them, as if I didn't help her, she was afraid she would eat them all herself. Which she did.
My grandmother stretched her surprisingly long legs out far enough that I ended up sticking my feet as far under my seat as possible to avoid hers. My grandmother seemed to enjoy being with Nita and Suzie a lot. She usually is talkative, but when they were around she seemed to just be fascinated listening to their back and forth joking attacks at each other.
"Where are the straws?" Suzie asked, and they all fell to laughing. In New Mexico, Suzie had stuck the paper package from the straw up her nose, making my grandmother swear violently in surprise.
Nita went out to take a cigarette.
"I'm down to one a day," she said. "I've quit tons of times. I'm an expert quitter."
"You must also be an expert starter," I said.
"We don't talk about that part," she replied.
When we left, Nita wanted to brush her teeth, so we went back to their apartment, where I fixed Suzie's ipad so that it connected to the internet. Which was somewhat ironic, as I had never really even seen one before.
We left to my grandmother's apartment, and on getting out, Nita borrowed my arm, to walk to the building.
It was the first time I had ever leant my arm to someone, and it was a little different.
"Make a muscle," she said. "Come on legs."
She was panting a bit, so I asked her if she wanted to rest for a minute.
"Oh no, I'm fine. I'll make it. I'll just pant a lot, like this."
She started gasping really heavily on purpose, as a joke.
"Come on legs."
We reached my grandmother's apartment, and Nita sat down in a chair. Suzie showed us her iphone's radar application, that showed that the rain had just passed over us.
Nita requested a sculpted bear that she had made out of wood that she had apparently given to my grandmother at some point. I retrieved it for her, and she looked at it.
"What is it supposed to be?" Suzie asked.
"It's a medicine bear," Suzie replied. "It helps you when you don't feel good."
"Does it help mentally ill people like me?" Suzie asked.
"Maybe not for a case so severe as yours."
Suzie went on to tell us about how her husband had been accumulating cats. He had found one that was not doing too well, then found another one. He had named them all and could not go away too long or he would be afraid the cats would get hungry.
"My husband doesn't have any cats," Nita said, "We just have each other," hugging herself.
"Oh, isn't that nice," Suzie said.
"But he isn't that good in bed," Nita added, "Oops! I didn't say that!"
We were sitting on the couch, Nita was at a chair at the table, and Suzie was in a chair next to the couch. Nita was still gasping pretty badly, and my grandmother offered her something to drink.
"No, I'll be fine. I just need to rest."
"You could rest on the couch, you could lay down on it."
"No thanks," Nita replied, "All those legs would be bumpy. I could just lay down here on the table with my medicine bear."
After talking with them a while longer, they left to go shopping and whale watching, and that concluded my interesting elderly person watching for the year.
When we got to the apartment they were staying in, my grandmother took my mother in, as Nita and Suzie were not dressed yet.
They entered the rented room, where Suzie was getting things ready, and Nita was still in her nightgown eating a sticky bun.
"Oh, hi!" she said, "Come in, I'm just eating one of Jean's cookies."
They talked for a moment.
"I think I should get out of bed soon," Nita said, "I wonder what I should wear?"
"Clothes," Suzie replied.
"Yes, that sounds good," Nita replied.
"Better than that saran wrap you wore yesterday. People stared."
Once they got ready, they came outside. Suzie rode with my grandmother in her car, and Nita ended up coming with us.
Nita walked over and entered our car. She is about 84, and lively for her age considering she just recently had surgery.
"Hi!" she said, "I've seen you a lot in the pictures."
Felicia commented about how it has not been picnic weather.
"Yes," Nita replied, "But I prefer eating inside anyhow. Away from all the ants. And uncles. Oh, I'm going to love you, you haven't heard all of my old jokes."
Several minutes and jokes from Nita later, we arrived at the restaurant.
"Suzie and Jean aren't here yet," my mother said, "They should be here soon-"
We turned around, and Nita was already off into the restaurant. We hurried in after her.
"Table for seven," my mother said.
"Six," I corrected.
"That will be just a minute," the cashier said.
We stood off to the side so that people could get by us, and Nita found an empty seat to sit down in next to us, with her back to someone else. We stood waiting, and then my grandmother entered.
"You should come in a little farther, away from the doorway out of people's way." Felicia said to her.
She moved in closer to us, smushing me between her, my mother, and a vending machine. We stood like that for five minutes or so, until they got a table, with me standing on one foot trying to do my best "I'm as thin as a pencil" impression. I had had bad experiences with vending machines before, but this one certainly made the top five.
Nita sat at the end because she was claustrophobic, across from Suzie.
Suzie had long grey hair, and is in her sixties. On the RV trip, she refused to sit down, and ended up getting hurled into and taking out a table when they stopped suddenly. They ended up taping the leg of the table back on. They also ended up taping the RV together when it started falling apart.
She ordered pancakes and eggs, and was disappointed that I wasn't going to help her eat them, as if I didn't help her, she was afraid she would eat them all herself. Which she did.
My grandmother stretched her surprisingly long legs out far enough that I ended up sticking my feet as far under my seat as possible to avoid hers. My grandmother seemed to enjoy being with Nita and Suzie a lot. She usually is talkative, but when they were around she seemed to just be fascinated listening to their back and forth joking attacks at each other.
"Where are the straws?" Suzie asked, and they all fell to laughing. In New Mexico, Suzie had stuck the paper package from the straw up her nose, making my grandmother swear violently in surprise.
Nita went out to take a cigarette.
"I'm down to one a day," she said. "I've quit tons of times. I'm an expert quitter."
"You must also be an expert starter," I said.
"We don't talk about that part," she replied.
When we left, Nita wanted to brush her teeth, so we went back to their apartment, where I fixed Suzie's ipad so that it connected to the internet. Which was somewhat ironic, as I had never really even seen one before.
We left to my grandmother's apartment, and on getting out, Nita borrowed my arm, to walk to the building.
It was the first time I had ever leant my arm to someone, and it was a little different.
"Make a muscle," she said. "Come on legs."
She was panting a bit, so I asked her if she wanted to rest for a minute.
"Oh no, I'm fine. I'll make it. I'll just pant a lot, like this."
She started gasping really heavily on purpose, as a joke.
"Come on legs."
We reached my grandmother's apartment, and Nita sat down in a chair. Suzie showed us her iphone's radar application, that showed that the rain had just passed over us.
Nita requested a sculpted bear that she had made out of wood that she had apparently given to my grandmother at some point. I retrieved it for her, and she looked at it.
"What is it supposed to be?" Suzie asked.
"It's a medicine bear," Suzie replied. "It helps you when you don't feel good."
"Does it help mentally ill people like me?" Suzie asked.
"Maybe not for a case so severe as yours."
Suzie went on to tell us about how her husband had been accumulating cats. He had found one that was not doing too well, then found another one. He had named them all and could not go away too long or he would be afraid the cats would get hungry.
"My husband doesn't have any cats," Nita said, "We just have each other," hugging herself.
"Oh, isn't that nice," Suzie said.
"But he isn't that good in bed," Nita added, "Oops! I didn't say that!"
We were sitting on the couch, Nita was at a chair at the table, and Suzie was in a chair next to the couch. Nita was still gasping pretty badly, and my grandmother offered her something to drink.
"No, I'll be fine. I just need to rest."
"You could rest on the couch, you could lay down on it."
"No thanks," Nita replied, "All those legs would be bumpy. I could just lay down here on the table with my medicine bear."
After talking with them a while longer, they left to go shopping and whale watching, and that concluded my interesting elderly person watching for the year.
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Week 14 Mini Research
I have always liked reading books that are older. Mainly from around 1900 into the 1930s. Throughout my reading of these books, I have found many authors that I found interesting, such as Jeffery Farnol, J. Jefferson Farjeon (who was descended from Thomas Jefferson), J.S. Fletcher, E. Phillips Oppenheim (who invented spy fiction), and Mary Roberts Rinehart (who invented "the butler did it").
Of these authors, I have read the majority of their books, and really enjoyed them. But a while ago I wondered if any movies had been made out of them. The authors are not very well known now, even though they were well liked in the time; Fletcher was Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's (Sherlock Holmes' author) main mystery competitor, and a good amount of people in the time considered him better (as I do). Oppenheim was on the cover of the 1927 Time Magazine, called "The Prince of Storytellers."
Considering that they had so much attention then, I would think some movies must have been made from them. So I start researching on the internet, on my laptop with it's left bracket and comma keys about to come off.
What I found was that a good amount of movies were made from these authors' books. Rinehart's book's "Tish", and "The Bat" were made into movies, "The Bat" multiple times.
Farnol had some of his books made into movies, among them "The Amateur Gentleman" three times, including a silent movie in the early 1920s. He also had his book "Murder By Nail" used for a British murder television program in the sixties, featuring Farnol's favorite character, Bow Street Runner Jasper Shrig.
Fletcher had some made into movies, such as "The Root of All Evil" in 1947.
The only problem with all of these, of course, is that no one knows about them anymore. And since no one knows about them anymore, they are practically impossible to find anywhere. What I was hoping for was one with someone a little better known, an actor or director that I would know now.
I found one with J. Jefferson Farjeon. Although maybe not quite as well known as the others, he was also a successful writer. Successful enough, apparently, for Albert Hitchcock to adapt one of Farjeon's plays into a movie. I found that "No. Seventeen" was adapted into a movie called "Number Seventeen" in 1932, directed by Albert Hitchcock. Hitchcock did not want to do this movie, and later admitted that it was a "Disaster". Most fans of Hitchcock were disappointed and surprised when it was released. Some critics have said of it that "It is fun to watch, though incomprehensible." It is a comedy thriller.
This is what I was searching for. Someone who people now (at least some people) know him. And some people know this movie, as it can be seen in its entirety on Youtube (I watched it and agreed with the critic).
Oppenheim was who I will try next. I find some information on him. "The Great Impersonation" was made into a movie three times, including once that was pretty much just WWII propaganda in 1944. I thought that this would make it easier to find, but I could only locate the first four minutes of it.
But considering that Oppenheim has 24 books made into films, there might be more. I finally find one that might be known well enough for me to locate it. It is "The Curious Quest" was published in 1919. In 1936, it was made into a movie starting- someone that I think most everyone has heard of- Cary Grant.
I found what I was looking for. The full movie has been posted many times on Youtube, and I can see a movie on a book that I enjoyed reading. The only problem is that even though the full movie has been posted, I find out looking at another site that the original British version was 80 minutes, but no one knows if a copy of that one even exists anymore. The shortened American version is 61 minutes.
So apparently they thought that Americans had shorter attention spans even then. What a surprise.
Of these authors, I have read the majority of their books, and really enjoyed them. But a while ago I wondered if any movies had been made out of them. The authors are not very well known now, even though they were well liked in the time; Fletcher was Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's (Sherlock Holmes' author) main mystery competitor, and a good amount of people in the time considered him better (as I do). Oppenheim was on the cover of the 1927 Time Magazine, called "The Prince of Storytellers."
Considering that they had so much attention then, I would think some movies must have been made from them. So I start researching on the internet, on my laptop with it's left bracket and comma keys about to come off.
What I found was that a good amount of movies were made from these authors' books. Rinehart's book's "Tish", and "The Bat" were made into movies, "The Bat" multiple times.
Farnol had some of his books made into movies, among them "The Amateur Gentleman" three times, including a silent movie in the early 1920s. He also had his book "Murder By Nail" used for a British murder television program in the sixties, featuring Farnol's favorite character, Bow Street Runner Jasper Shrig.
Fletcher had some made into movies, such as "The Root of All Evil" in 1947.
The only problem with all of these, of course, is that no one knows about them anymore. And since no one knows about them anymore, they are practically impossible to find anywhere. What I was hoping for was one with someone a little better known, an actor or director that I would know now.
I found one with J. Jefferson Farjeon. Although maybe not quite as well known as the others, he was also a successful writer. Successful enough, apparently, for Albert Hitchcock to adapt one of Farjeon's plays into a movie. I found that "No. Seventeen" was adapted into a movie called "Number Seventeen" in 1932, directed by Albert Hitchcock. Hitchcock did not want to do this movie, and later admitted that it was a "Disaster". Most fans of Hitchcock were disappointed and surprised when it was released. Some critics have said of it that "It is fun to watch, though incomprehensible." It is a comedy thriller.
This is what I was searching for. Someone who people now (at least some people) know him. And some people know this movie, as it can be seen in its entirety on Youtube (I watched it and agreed with the critic).
Oppenheim was who I will try next. I find some information on him. "The Great Impersonation" was made into a movie three times, including once that was pretty much just WWII propaganda in 1944. I thought that this would make it easier to find, but I could only locate the first four minutes of it.
But considering that Oppenheim has 24 books made into films, there might be more. I finally find one that might be known well enough for me to locate it. It is "The Curious Quest" was published in 1919. In 1936, it was made into a movie starting- someone that I think most everyone has heard of- Cary Grant.
I found what I was looking for. The full movie has been posted many times on Youtube, and I can see a movie on a book that I enjoyed reading. The only problem is that even though the full movie has been posted, I find out looking at another site that the original British version was 80 minutes, but no one knows if a copy of that one even exists anymore. The shortened American version is 61 minutes.
So apparently they thought that Americans had shorter attention spans even then. What a surprise.
Friday, November 30, 2012
Week 13 Review- "Kingdom of the Blind"
E. Phillips Oppenheim wrote "The Kingdom of the Blind" in 1916. One thing I have noticed about him as an author is that he often tries experimenting. He is exceedingly aware of how the minutiae of the story are affecting the readers predictions of the outcomes, opinions of the characters, and such. He occasionally will try flipping it and playing with them. Which is what he does with this book.
It starts with a dinner party, at which we are introduced to some characters- namely, Geraldine Conyers, Surgeon-Major Thomson, and Captain Granet.
Geraldine Conyers is typical of Oppenheim's books and the books of the time period, the fashionable young lady of society.
Where Oppenheim turns the book strange is that the normal way books are, is that the good character often will be likable, outgoing, friendly, with a cheerful disposition. Something that draws people away from a character, is things like being reserved, cold, emotionless, cruel, devious, lying. Things like being reserved can be portrayed in an enigmatic sense, so it is not necessarily a bad trait for a character to have. But often, the good traits will be with the good character, while the bad traits that direct the reader into disliking the character is given to the person who ends up being the bad character.
It is a devious way to direct the reader subconsciously into liking a character or not without openly making them likable or not. So if a character has some of the negative character traits, and turns out to be the main bad person in the book, I generally am content with the ending.
What Oppenheim does in "Kingdom of the Blind", is entirely flip this common notion that he and many other authors used all the time on its head.
That was my main problem with this book. It is experimentation by Oppenheim to make you like the bad person, and dislike the good one.
Surgeon-Major Thomson all along is shown to be cold, calculating, and emotionless. He lies constantly, even to Geraldine Conyers who he is courting.
Captain Granet is cheerful, friendly, polite, and nice to everyone he meets. Throughout the book he shows no negative personality traits, and did nothing except to make me like his character more as the book went along.
Surgeon-Major Thomson openly accuses him of being a traitor to England, by informing Germany of military things, in spite of an honorable time in the British army, in which he was was captured.
He does this without any evidence. Captain Granet handles this well, and politely. Geraldine is naturally indignant at the absurd claims, and breaks off their engagement.
She then, maybe feeling some degree of regret, makes a heartfelt and emotional plea to him.
"I think that the real reason why I lost some of my affection for you was because you persisted in treating me without any confidence at all. And you told me nothing. There were things which seemed to demand an explanation with regard to your position. You ignored them. You seemed to enjoy moving in a mysterious atmosphere. It's worse than ever now. I am intelligent, am I not — trustworthy?"
She asked him if there was anything he wished to tell her, any sort of explanation of his recent actions at all.
All he does is say "Thank you for saying this. You are trustworthy. I have nothing to say to you."
Captain Granet on the other hand, is openly in love with her, though very respectful of Thomson.
It gets to the point that about halfway through, I am disappointed that a sniper's bullet, which you later find out was from Granet, just missed Thomson. But because he is such a rude, unfeeling character.
Captain Granet finally gets exposed by Thomson when Granet is coming to save the life of Geraldine. Of course, it was because of something he did, but he was going to help her, and Thomson exposes him and essentially tells him to go kill himself.
That is basically what ends up happening, and the character I have grown to despise gets the nice, happy ending off with the girl happy ever after.
By the end of the book I was practically throwing it into the wall. This was the utter paragon of one character to hate and one character to love and he picked the one I hated as the one to end up happy.
But it is masterfully written in terms of even though Granet did some very horrible things, I did not care. I hated Thomson, because of all the hints, subconscious or obvious that Oppenheim gave, that is what he wanted. He wanted to experiment, to see what would happen if he switched the personalities of the typical good and bad characters. And the result to me is just that, and experiment. Also, my least favorite book by Oppenheim. And an experiment that I will not be interested in reading again.
It starts with a dinner party, at which we are introduced to some characters- namely, Geraldine Conyers, Surgeon-Major Thomson, and Captain Granet.
Geraldine Conyers is typical of Oppenheim's books and the books of the time period, the fashionable young lady of society.
Where Oppenheim turns the book strange is that the normal way books are, is that the good character often will be likable, outgoing, friendly, with a cheerful disposition. Something that draws people away from a character, is things like being reserved, cold, emotionless, cruel, devious, lying. Things like being reserved can be portrayed in an enigmatic sense, so it is not necessarily a bad trait for a character to have. But often, the good traits will be with the good character, while the bad traits that direct the reader into disliking the character is given to the person who ends up being the bad character.
It is a devious way to direct the reader subconsciously into liking a character or not without openly making them likable or not. So if a character has some of the negative character traits, and turns out to be the main bad person in the book, I generally am content with the ending.
What Oppenheim does in "Kingdom of the Blind", is entirely flip this common notion that he and many other authors used all the time on its head.
That was my main problem with this book. It is experimentation by Oppenheim to make you like the bad person, and dislike the good one.
Surgeon-Major Thomson all along is shown to be cold, calculating, and emotionless. He lies constantly, even to Geraldine Conyers who he is courting.
Captain Granet is cheerful, friendly, polite, and nice to everyone he meets. Throughout the book he shows no negative personality traits, and did nothing except to make me like his character more as the book went along.
Surgeon-Major Thomson openly accuses him of being a traitor to England, by informing Germany of military things, in spite of an honorable time in the British army, in which he was was captured.
He does this without any evidence. Captain Granet handles this well, and politely. Geraldine is naturally indignant at the absurd claims, and breaks off their engagement.
She then, maybe feeling some degree of regret, makes a heartfelt and emotional plea to him.
"I think that the real reason why I lost some of my affection for you was because you persisted in treating me without any confidence at all. And you told me nothing. There were things which seemed to demand an explanation with regard to your position. You ignored them. You seemed to enjoy moving in a mysterious atmosphere. It's worse than ever now. I am intelligent, am I not — trustworthy?"
She asked him if there was anything he wished to tell her, any sort of explanation of his recent actions at all.
All he does is say "Thank you for saying this. You are trustworthy. I have nothing to say to you."
Captain Granet on the other hand, is openly in love with her, though very respectful of Thomson.
It gets to the point that about halfway through, I am disappointed that a sniper's bullet, which you later find out was from Granet, just missed Thomson. But because he is such a rude, unfeeling character.
Captain Granet finally gets exposed by Thomson when Granet is coming to save the life of Geraldine. Of course, it was because of something he did, but he was going to help her, and Thomson exposes him and essentially tells him to go kill himself.
That is basically what ends up happening, and the character I have grown to despise gets the nice, happy ending off with the girl happy ever after.
By the end of the book I was practically throwing it into the wall. This was the utter paragon of one character to hate and one character to love and he picked the one I hated as the one to end up happy.
But it is masterfully written in terms of even though Granet did some very horrible things, I did not care. I hated Thomson, because of all the hints, subconscious or obvious that Oppenheim gave, that is what he wanted. He wanted to experiment, to see what would happen if he switched the personalities of the typical good and bad characters. And the result to me is just that, and experiment. Also, my least favorite book by Oppenheim. And an experiment that I will not be interested in reading again.
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Week 12, book intro, "The Ostrekoff Jewels"
When I find an author I like, I stick with them. Most of the authors I like are from the early nineteen hundreds. Once I run out of one author, I can scour the library for more older looking books that catch my eye.
I started off with Jeffery Farnol and J. Jefferson Farjeon, moving on to ones such as Mary Roberts Rinehart, who lived in Bar Harbor. Finally, I found E. Phillips Oppenheim.
Oppenheim wrote stories alternating between love, espionage, the World Wars, society, or a combination of the four. Just before WWI he began writing of it, and he predicted WWII two years after WWI ended.
This book, "The Ostrekoff Jewels", is from 1932. Oppenheim in this book, writes of an American working for the U.S. Embassy named Wilfred Haven, who is stuck in Russia during a revolution with his good friends, the Prince and Princess Ostrekoff, who are the targets of the revolution. He agrees to undertake a perilous journey for them, to take the Ostrekoff Jewels, worth millions, that the revolutionary party the Bolshevists desperately desire, to the Ostrekoff's daughter, the Princess Elisaveta Ostrekoff, who is safe in Florence.
In terms of what will happen to the Prince and Princess Ostrekoff stuck in Russia?
"What they find... will be our bodies. That is arranged" the Prince Ostrekoff says.
On his way out, Haven, unable to control his anger at the actions of a mob, runs in to save a woman, who he ends up meeting several times later, Anna Kastellane.
Haven uses the privileges he has as a junior to carry the jewels in his embassy briefcase, chained to his wrist, through many countries, constantly pursued.
Haven is good-natured, and does his best to live up to his honor and reputation as the son of one of the richest men in the world. He is very confident and maybe a little conceited. But he also has difficulty determining who he can trust. He is not helped by any other characters.
"Can I trust you?" Wilfred Haven demanded of Anna Kastellane.
"These are not the days to trust anyone," she responded.
The story flows really well, and what impressed me most is that Oppenheim is always a step ahead of the reader, at least, the reader who thinks the way he directs the reader to. As soon as I think I figured out the solution to the story's problem, Oppenheim throws in a red herring, to prove to me that I am wrong. He saw where people might suspect what will happen, so as soon as the average early twentieth century person realizes where the story is headed, Oppenheim will either lead the reader towards a wrong answer, or give definitive proof that is later rebutted.
This sort of awareness is very difficult, especially with a book that is written by yourself, but Oppenheim does it flawlessly. Altogether, it has stood up as the best book I have read, and is what I think of when I think of deceptive writing.
I started off with Jeffery Farnol and J. Jefferson Farjeon, moving on to ones such as Mary Roberts Rinehart, who lived in Bar Harbor. Finally, I found E. Phillips Oppenheim.
Oppenheim wrote stories alternating between love, espionage, the World Wars, society, or a combination of the four. Just before WWI he began writing of it, and he predicted WWII two years after WWI ended.
This book, "The Ostrekoff Jewels", is from 1932. Oppenheim in this book, writes of an American working for the U.S. Embassy named Wilfred Haven, who is stuck in Russia during a revolution with his good friends, the Prince and Princess Ostrekoff, who are the targets of the revolution. He agrees to undertake a perilous journey for them, to take the Ostrekoff Jewels, worth millions, that the revolutionary party the Bolshevists desperately desire, to the Ostrekoff's daughter, the Princess Elisaveta Ostrekoff, who is safe in Florence.
In terms of what will happen to the Prince and Princess Ostrekoff stuck in Russia?
"What they find... will be our bodies. That is arranged" the Prince Ostrekoff says.
On his way out, Haven, unable to control his anger at the actions of a mob, runs in to save a woman, who he ends up meeting several times later, Anna Kastellane.
Haven uses the privileges he has as a junior to carry the jewels in his embassy briefcase, chained to his wrist, through many countries, constantly pursued.
Haven is good-natured, and does his best to live up to his honor and reputation as the son of one of the richest men in the world. He is very confident and maybe a little conceited. But he also has difficulty determining who he can trust. He is not helped by any other characters.
"Can I trust you?" Wilfred Haven demanded of Anna Kastellane.
"These are not the days to trust anyone," she responded.
The story flows really well, and what impressed me most is that Oppenheim is always a step ahead of the reader, at least, the reader who thinks the way he directs the reader to. As soon as I think I figured out the solution to the story's problem, Oppenheim throws in a red herring, to prove to me that I am wrong. He saw where people might suspect what will happen, so as soon as the average early twentieth century person realizes where the story is headed, Oppenheim will either lead the reader towards a wrong answer, or give definitive proof that is later rebutted.
This sort of awareness is very difficult, especially with a book that is written by yourself, but Oppenheim does it flawlessly. Altogether, it has stood up as the best book I have read, and is what I think of when I think of deceptive writing.
Friday, November 16, 2012
Week 11 Points of Authority
Face it. The majority of our society would agree that they have the most fun when there are no authoritative figures around. Because generally things that are fun often are things that are different, new, and probably would be discouraged by our peers.
This is no different with baseball teams. One thing with coming to a baseball practice is that the players will stand in a circle and talk until the practice starts. However, when the coaches are not there, as one time that a coach was late, then of course we have to think of other things to do besides just talking.
It was a very cold day, and everyone was wearing at least long sleeves. We were standing in the parking lot waiting for the coach. Talking got boring, and one player had the idea of trying something else. So they started a sort of chest bump sumo wrestling, where you had to keep your hands behind you, and try to push the other person over the line. One player took a while to figure out the rules, using his hand, shoulder, and head.
After we got tired of that, the player who had difficulty with the last one had a brilliant idea. If the coach came, he would make us take a lap and stretch. So, since we normally ran a lap, stretched, and then threw, in that order, we would run out and start throwing, and say that we had already run a lap.
"Come on, hurry up!"
"What if coach doesn't come?"
"What if he does? We'll give him fifteen minutes. That's what you're supposed to give in a class."
So we went out and sort of had a free for all throwing until the coach came.
Another time, we were somewhere else for a game, and we were between games. We were parked right beside a football field, and the coaches had gone off for a minute. On the football field, was a giant ball, about maybe four feet tall, and probably about thirty five pounds or so. So of course, what else would we do but go out and push it around.
One player started pushing it, and another sprinted over and hurled himself into it and they both toppled over. Someone else picked it up, and threw it at someone. That person picked it up, and the one who threw himself into the ball before tried to do it again, and the person holding the ball threw it at him, flattening him.
This went on for a while, with that same player getting drilled repeatedly by it, then getting back up and throwing himself into it again. Another player said "I haven't had this much fun since third grade."
As this was going on, another player had also brought out a softball, and was trying to throw it from a distance into a trash can that also for some strange reason was in the middle of the field.
A few other players joined in with that, while others were still chasing each other with the huge ball. Things culminated when the same player that had been getting hit got pasted again (he was a little sore in the morning, but did not regret it at all), and someone else picked the ball up and threw it into the trash can, and smushed it. We picked the trash up off the football field for the most part, then:
"The coach is coming!"
We nonchalantly strolled back over, as if nothing had happened. And in the long run nothing had, except for something that was lots of fun for the players, and shows how without the coach, things can get much more interesting in a hurry.
This is no different with baseball teams. One thing with coming to a baseball practice is that the players will stand in a circle and talk until the practice starts. However, when the coaches are not there, as one time that a coach was late, then of course we have to think of other things to do besides just talking.
It was a very cold day, and everyone was wearing at least long sleeves. We were standing in the parking lot waiting for the coach. Talking got boring, and one player had the idea of trying something else. So they started a sort of chest bump sumo wrestling, where you had to keep your hands behind you, and try to push the other person over the line. One player took a while to figure out the rules, using his hand, shoulder, and head.
After we got tired of that, the player who had difficulty with the last one had a brilliant idea. If the coach came, he would make us take a lap and stretch. So, since we normally ran a lap, stretched, and then threw, in that order, we would run out and start throwing, and say that we had already run a lap.
"Come on, hurry up!"
"What if coach doesn't come?"
"What if he does? We'll give him fifteen minutes. That's what you're supposed to give in a class."
So we went out and sort of had a free for all throwing until the coach came.
Another time, we were somewhere else for a game, and we were between games. We were parked right beside a football field, and the coaches had gone off for a minute. On the football field, was a giant ball, about maybe four feet tall, and probably about thirty five pounds or so. So of course, what else would we do but go out and push it around.
One player started pushing it, and another sprinted over and hurled himself into it and they both toppled over. Someone else picked it up, and threw it at someone. That person picked it up, and the one who threw himself into the ball before tried to do it again, and the person holding the ball threw it at him, flattening him.
This went on for a while, with that same player getting drilled repeatedly by it, then getting back up and throwing himself into it again. Another player said "I haven't had this much fun since third grade."
As this was going on, another player had also brought out a softball, and was trying to throw it from a distance into a trash can that also for some strange reason was in the middle of the field.
A few other players joined in with that, while others were still chasing each other with the huge ball. Things culminated when the same player that had been getting hit got pasted again (he was a little sore in the morning, but did not regret it at all), and someone else picked the ball up and threw it into the trash can, and smushed it. We picked the trash up off the football field for the most part, then:
"The coach is coming!"
We nonchalantly strolled back over, as if nothing had happened. And in the long run nothing had, except for something that was lots of fun for the players, and shows how without the coach, things can get much more interesting in a hurry.
Friday, November 9, 2012
Week 10 Opinion
People have always been influenced by the media. I can not remember which book, but in one by E. Phillips Oppenheim, a character says "Whoever controls the newspapers, controls all of England."
That was in the 1910s, now it has expanded even further. People are controlled by the media, which now encompasses the aforementioned newspapers, but more prominently news programs, and the internet.
With any newspaper, the people who write it will always have an opinion on what they are writing, especially if it has something to do with politics. They might think they don't, but it is lurking in their subconscious. The worst part is that they try so hard to be impartial, that all they do is conceal their prejudice so that the reader does not notice it, but is only influenced subconsciously themselves.
As an example, the Bangor Daily News for example admits that they are wholeheartedly Democrat. But when the BDN staff is writing an article about a Republican, their phrases and selection of information to publish is going to be harsher on him then on a Democrat, just because the first thing that comes to mind will be more negative of him.
News stations do this even worse. They focus on things like the upcoming "Fiscal cliff" months beforehand, and make a huge media and social deal about it. As soon as the election was over, they needed something else, so all of a sudden the stocks plunge and the media starts panicking and overreacting purely to get the viewer's attentions. Did the panic start after the election because if Romney won then there would be no danger of the cliff? No, because Democrats and Republicans still would have argued and not compromised. They wanted to save it for when they would not have anything to make a big deal about, after the election was over.
They also do things such as with this fiscal cliff. They talk of how Obama wants to raise taxes to 39% from 35%. The really interesting thing they do not talk about however is the Laffer Curve, which explains both sides' opinions, that taxing more on the rich will bring in more money and be fair, and that taxing them less brings in much more in the long term.
Regardless of which is right, this difference from 39 to 35 is not the only fighting point with this bill. The Republicans have things that they are making demands on like Obama is demanding the 39 percent. They do not get publicized however, only Obama's got shown on the news. So as a result, as opposed to Obama demanding something and the Republican's demanding something, It now is at Obama demanding something and the Republican's not wanting it.
As a result, the media and Obama can use this to turn it into "The Republicans need to compromise". Obama, after getting the publicity on that, then challenged the Republicans to compromise. The Republicans will not get the attention if they challenge Obama to compromise on what they want. This way it gets turned into a case of Obama making a request and the Republicans being unreasonable. This way they can turn it into a one on one battle between Obama and Speaker Boehner, when really it is not near so much of a one on one struggle between them. But the media wants to turn it into an entertaining soap opera type of fight between two men, who will emerge victorious?
They do this with whatever party President is in, Republican or Democrat, they ignore most everyone else, and twist the information so that the viewers get fed opinions, whether they realize it or not.
The news industry is one that rules our country, and the opinions of most people in it. It is ruining our country, and sometimes, all it makes me want to do is read some real undramatized, unbiased, interesting and just as likely to be real news, such as The Onion. At least it does not try to form your opinions for you.
That was in the 1910s, now it has expanded even further. People are controlled by the media, which now encompasses the aforementioned newspapers, but more prominently news programs, and the internet.
With any newspaper, the people who write it will always have an opinion on what they are writing, especially if it has something to do with politics. They might think they don't, but it is lurking in their subconscious. The worst part is that they try so hard to be impartial, that all they do is conceal their prejudice so that the reader does not notice it, but is only influenced subconsciously themselves.
As an example, the Bangor Daily News for example admits that they are wholeheartedly Democrat. But when the BDN staff is writing an article about a Republican, their phrases and selection of information to publish is going to be harsher on him then on a Democrat, just because the first thing that comes to mind will be more negative of him.
News stations do this even worse. They focus on things like the upcoming "Fiscal cliff" months beforehand, and make a huge media and social deal about it. As soon as the election was over, they needed something else, so all of a sudden the stocks plunge and the media starts panicking and overreacting purely to get the viewer's attentions. Did the panic start after the election because if Romney won then there would be no danger of the cliff? No, because Democrats and Republicans still would have argued and not compromised. They wanted to save it for when they would not have anything to make a big deal about, after the election was over.
They also do things such as with this fiscal cliff. They talk of how Obama wants to raise taxes to 39% from 35%. The really interesting thing they do not talk about however is the Laffer Curve, which explains both sides' opinions, that taxing more on the rich will bring in more money and be fair, and that taxing them less brings in much more in the long term.
Regardless of which is right, this difference from 39 to 35 is not the only fighting point with this bill. The Republicans have things that they are making demands on like Obama is demanding the 39 percent. They do not get publicized however, only Obama's got shown on the news. So as a result, as opposed to Obama demanding something and the Republican's demanding something, It now is at Obama demanding something and the Republican's not wanting it.
As a result, the media and Obama can use this to turn it into "The Republicans need to compromise". Obama, after getting the publicity on that, then challenged the Republicans to compromise. The Republicans will not get the attention if they challenge Obama to compromise on what they want. This way it gets turned into a case of Obama making a request and the Republicans being unreasonable. This way they can turn it into a one on one battle between Obama and Speaker Boehner, when really it is not near so much of a one on one struggle between them. But the media wants to turn it into an entertaining soap opera type of fight between two men, who will emerge victorious?
They do this with whatever party President is in, Republican or Democrat, they ignore most everyone else, and twist the information so that the viewers get fed opinions, whether they realize it or not.
The news industry is one that rules our country, and the opinions of most people in it. It is ruining our country, and sometimes, all it makes me want to do is read some real undramatized, unbiased, interesting and just as likely to be real news, such as The Onion. At least it does not try to form your opinions for you.
Friday, November 2, 2012
Week 9 Speculative
In my first semester, I did not sign up for courses until a month or so until it started. That was not very helpful, as many sections of classes were entirely filled in, and I had to make a pretty much instant decision on what classes to take.
Since then, I have always attempted to sign up as soon as possible, as the myemcc makes it easy to sign up for a course. I just select the course, click on the add button, and I am now taking that course that semester. I do not have to deal with people this way. I generally avoid the people at the desks, because even the older looking people in the information windows that look like they are in charge seem clueless, such as telling me that dropping a course after the semester started would mean the class would appear on my transcript with a "W" next to it. It did not of course.
So I circumvent them as much as possible, and the myemcc website is perfect for that. The new course listings were just put up, though adding them is not possible on the website yet, and I looked at some to see what I might be interested in.
In my time at EMCC I have figured out a couple of things- that I am devoted to English of almost any sort, and that I am fascinated by Geographic Information Systems, a type of computer mapping. Considering that I have been here three years, two technically in a program and over full time, I should leave soon and go off to do something else. What that other thing would be I have not yet figured out. I always try to keep a laid back attitude, in that if I decide to do something, such as go to another college, when that time is half a year away, then if I plan it all out and commit myself to a routine, then I will limit myself in my abilities to maneuver if another opportunity or twist comes along.
Also, I always think of why many people are not dreamers, why many people just do not believe in, for example, becoming a well known author. The majority of people, if they decided that they wanted to be a famous author, or anything of that sort, would then think of how they would do it. And they think of how "I would have to be really good, which I'm not, and it would have to appeal to everyone and I would probably have to devote a lot of time to it, and it might not work at first, and who would like what I do anyhow? I might as well not do it."
I avoid all of this such above-mentioned though process, by if I decide that I want to do something, I do not think about how to do it until I am committed to it, and then I go through with it. As opposed to cutting myself off like many other people.
Would it help me to know which courses to take if I knew what I would do after this and where I would go? Sure, but after I decided how I would go about it, I would be less likely to alter my plans when situations changed.
That is why I had difficulty with this assignment, there is hardly anything that I think about that I plan into the future much with. I am careful, and am not reckless, as I do consider the future, I just do not plot it all out.
But after that one time in my first semester, I am always careful to get my classes chosen as soon as possible. One course that stood out to me were ENG-162, with Lesley Gillis. I am taking 221 with her now, True Crime, but I think the one thing I have not really taken yet for English at this college is fiction writing. This English course with Gillis does have a lot of work, but I am enjoying it a lot and managing it well.
Another one was Carol Lewandowski's Journalism class. I had looked at her paper every now and then, and was a little disappointed when it was off for this semester. But I thought that it might be interesting to take it myself. Someone from her class did a story on our GIS class once, and just emailed the teacher so we could email him things he could take useful quotes from. I do not really know what it would entail, but public speaking would be my least favorite subject next to dissection, and she taught it enjoyably to me a couple of semesters ago, so I figured that it would surely be an enjoyable class with her teaching it.
Other than that, I have taken many classes that are basic ones, except for ones like chemistry (which I dropped out of this semester), biology, and physics, all of which I have generally found I am distinctly disinterested in. But I would want to be full time, especially as baseball here requires it.
So two english classes, another class, and tack on whatever class is after Calculus III, and baseball? I think it will be a good semester next year. Except for no Mr. Goldfine. :(
Are you certain there isn't an ENG-362?
Friday, October 26, 2012
Week 8 Authorial Presence
About a week ago, a problem arose for me. That problem was baseball practice. Or rather, what occurred during baseball practice. And that, namely, was taking a line drive to the face.
There were only about six players at the practice, and only three outfielders, so one was catching the throws coming in, and the other two were fielding. But the coach kept it to a quick tempo, so I would have time to sprint up and field the ball, throw it in, turn around, sprint back to where I started from, turn around, and the coach would hit the next one to me.
All this rapidity was tiring, which generally is not a problem except that I lose my focus a little bit when I am getting exhausted. This generally just means that eventually I might misplay a ball. Which is what happened, but with severer consequences this time. The coach hit a line shot deep behind me and to my right. I sprinted back for it, looking that I would probably have to jump to make the play. But I was a little faster than I had anticipated, and did not adjust like I usually would have, still jumping when I could have just lifted my glove higher. As it was, it went just under my glove, and because I was looking directly back for the ball, it hit me square, just above my mouth.
I went down for a second, mainly concerned because I remembered one player's account of how he had gotten hit in the face by a throw and had broken his nose, and not noticed anything except his face being numb, and had kept practicing until his nose started shooting blood.
My face was pretty numb as well, and one of the players ran over to me, concerned.
"Are you alright Tomas?" he asked.
"I'm good."
"He's good!" he said to the coach, as the coach walked over.
"You need to go wash the blood off," he said.
I looked down at my shirt and there was a good amount of blood on it.
I went into the dugout, where there was a sink, and washed my mouth out. I had gotten hit to the left on my upper lip, and had gotten cut there by the laces, which is what had been bleeding the most. What was also bleeding though was inside my mouth, where the entire upper and lower parts of the left side of the inside of my mouth were torn up by my teeth. I was lucky that it had not hit me right in the teeth or nose, but this did not feel great either.
And this ended up being the problem. The cut on the outside caused swelling, but after two days the swelling was almost entirely gone, and all that was left was a mark from the laces of the ball. In my mouth however, just as the swelling went down, the inside of my mouth started to hurt. And by hurt, I mean that any movement of my mouth, my tongue, etc., caused excruciating pain, to the point of doubling over every time I smiled.
Naturally, that made eating or drinking a challenge. But I was able to find a solution.
Tea tree oil is something that is quite expensive, but is very good at healing cuts and sores. I figured that I may as well try it in my mouth and see if it helped. So I applied some to the sores, and in about thirty seconds, I could barely feel anything, and I could talk, laugh, drink, etc., without any discomfort.
So what I ended up doing was putting tea tree oil in my mouth before I ate. I did this for about five days, until my mouth finally got better.
And then my coach did a little "Knockout" style competition at practice, whoever missed a ball was out.
"As long as I don't actually have to get knocked out during it," I said.
"Yes, you don't have to get knocked out to win it Tomas," the coach said.
"I wish I had known that earlier."
And of course, I ended up almost winning the infield knockout drill.
There were only about six players at the practice, and only three outfielders, so one was catching the throws coming in, and the other two were fielding. But the coach kept it to a quick tempo, so I would have time to sprint up and field the ball, throw it in, turn around, sprint back to where I started from, turn around, and the coach would hit the next one to me.
All this rapidity was tiring, which generally is not a problem except that I lose my focus a little bit when I am getting exhausted. This generally just means that eventually I might misplay a ball. Which is what happened, but with severer consequences this time. The coach hit a line shot deep behind me and to my right. I sprinted back for it, looking that I would probably have to jump to make the play. But I was a little faster than I had anticipated, and did not adjust like I usually would have, still jumping when I could have just lifted my glove higher. As it was, it went just under my glove, and because I was looking directly back for the ball, it hit me square, just above my mouth.
I went down for a second, mainly concerned because I remembered one player's account of how he had gotten hit in the face by a throw and had broken his nose, and not noticed anything except his face being numb, and had kept practicing until his nose started shooting blood.
My face was pretty numb as well, and one of the players ran over to me, concerned.
"Are you alright Tomas?" he asked.
"I'm good."
"He's good!" he said to the coach, as the coach walked over.
"You need to go wash the blood off," he said.
I looked down at my shirt and there was a good amount of blood on it.
I went into the dugout, where there was a sink, and washed my mouth out. I had gotten hit to the left on my upper lip, and had gotten cut there by the laces, which is what had been bleeding the most. What was also bleeding though was inside my mouth, where the entire upper and lower parts of the left side of the inside of my mouth were torn up by my teeth. I was lucky that it had not hit me right in the teeth or nose, but this did not feel great either.
And this ended up being the problem. The cut on the outside caused swelling, but after two days the swelling was almost entirely gone, and all that was left was a mark from the laces of the ball. In my mouth however, just as the swelling went down, the inside of my mouth started to hurt. And by hurt, I mean that any movement of my mouth, my tongue, etc., caused excruciating pain, to the point of doubling over every time I smiled.
Naturally, that made eating or drinking a challenge. But I was able to find a solution.
Tea tree oil is something that is quite expensive, but is very good at healing cuts and sores. I figured that I may as well try it in my mouth and see if it helped. So I applied some to the sores, and in about thirty seconds, I could barely feel anything, and I could talk, laugh, drink, etc., without any discomfort.
So what I ended up doing was putting tea tree oil in my mouth before I ate. I did this for about five days, until my mouth finally got better.
And then my coach did a little "Knockout" style competition at practice, whoever missed a ball was out.
"As long as I don't actually have to get knocked out during it," I said.
"Yes, you don't have to get knocked out to win it Tomas," the coach said.
"I wish I had known that earlier."
And of course, I ended up almost winning the infield knockout drill.
Friday, October 19, 2012
Week 7 Profile
He stands, an authoritative figure, and looks down into the dugout at the player. The player was a new one, who all of the others proclaimed a "Crazy kid," who they all liked however.
"One question Coach," the player asked, "Did he go?"
A rhetorical question such as this required careful thinking, the coach knew. He stood staring at the player for a minute. Then, he moves his arms in a 'safe' motion.
"No he did not."
The coach came up from Pennsylvania, where he had played college baseball as a pitcher. One thing that he always seemed conscious of, to the people around him, was that he was young. He was starting a new college baseball program, which is a difficult task for anyone, let alone that he was 23.
It is hard to be an authoritative figure when some of the players on your team are older than you, but he accomplished it, by always being mindful of his role as a figurehead for the players. He rarely unbent too much, though would talk about his music preferences and such. Otherwise, he volunteered no personal information except when asked about it. The players viewed him as a bit of a mystery, and a very good coach. It was difficult for them not to be a little bit in awe of him, as a group. His heavy brow, and highly confident air put himself apart from anyone else.
But he cared a lot about his players. One time, a player at a practice ran back on a line drive, leapt in the air for it, and it went just under their glove and hit them in the face. He was right there to diagnose it, and lead them to the bathroom to wash the blood off of their face and out of their mouth. From his experience, he could tell that it probably would not need stitches, though it was still bleeding heavily.
He also showed faith in his players. Unlike many coaches, he was almost reluctant to take a struggling pitcher out of the game. He just always said "Come on babe." Sometimes it hurt his team, as he would let the pitcher walk the bases loaded with a one run lead with two innings left before making a change. But sometimes, this would work out for him, as once, after a player walked two batters in a row and gave up two hits, he left them in, and they pitched another two innings without giving up a hit, run or a walk.
He was not just a manager, he tried to make the players as good as possible. When he saw an unorthodox or improper stance, for throwing or for hitting, he helped them out. He would open up their stance, work on them snapping their wrist better in throwing. He would work individually with each player, and tell them what they needed to work on to be a better player, to play more, to help the team more. He was always there to help his players with anything he needed, if they could get past his foreboding appearance.
And he found, in just two semesters, the pieces to put together a good baseball team. Good enough to beat the reigning champions of the division, and to make the playoffs. Which for a first year team, was pretty impressive. And a good part of it was purely because of his coaching.
"One question Coach," the player asked, "Did he go?"
A rhetorical question such as this required careful thinking, the coach knew. He stood staring at the player for a minute. Then, he moves his arms in a 'safe' motion.
"No he did not."
The coach came up from Pennsylvania, where he had played college baseball as a pitcher. One thing that he always seemed conscious of, to the people around him, was that he was young. He was starting a new college baseball program, which is a difficult task for anyone, let alone that he was 23.
It is hard to be an authoritative figure when some of the players on your team are older than you, but he accomplished it, by always being mindful of his role as a figurehead for the players. He rarely unbent too much, though would talk about his music preferences and such. Otherwise, he volunteered no personal information except when asked about it. The players viewed him as a bit of a mystery, and a very good coach. It was difficult for them not to be a little bit in awe of him, as a group. His heavy brow, and highly confident air put himself apart from anyone else.
But he cared a lot about his players. One time, a player at a practice ran back on a line drive, leapt in the air for it, and it went just under their glove and hit them in the face. He was right there to diagnose it, and lead them to the bathroom to wash the blood off of their face and out of their mouth. From his experience, he could tell that it probably would not need stitches, though it was still bleeding heavily.
He also showed faith in his players. Unlike many coaches, he was almost reluctant to take a struggling pitcher out of the game. He just always said "Come on babe." Sometimes it hurt his team, as he would let the pitcher walk the bases loaded with a one run lead with two innings left before making a change. But sometimes, this would work out for him, as once, after a player walked two batters in a row and gave up two hits, he left them in, and they pitched another two innings without giving up a hit, run or a walk.
He was not just a manager, he tried to make the players as good as possible. When he saw an unorthodox or improper stance, for throwing or for hitting, he helped them out. He would open up their stance, work on them snapping their wrist better in throwing. He would work individually with each player, and tell them what they needed to work on to be a better player, to play more, to help the team more. He was always there to help his players with anything he needed, if they could get past his foreboding appearance.
And he found, in just two semesters, the pieces to put together a good baseball team. Good enough to beat the reigning champions of the division, and to make the playoffs. Which for a first year team, was pretty impressive. And a good part of it was purely because of his coaching.
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Week 6 Autobiographical Slice
What I always thinks helps with life is not to take anything to seriously. Only get annoyed at the things that are seriously a problem, otherwise, take things lightly.
To take things lightly, it helps to have a sense of humor, and that is never something that I have lacked. For many years, I have always made jokes, often a play on words, such as one that my mother relates:
"Do kiwis come from North Kiwia or South Kiwia?"
When I was eight, I started turning my sense of humor into comics that I would write for myself. The main character was a dog named Shoegerhith. This even fit with my humor of words, as the name was a combination between the comics Shoe, Garfield, and Heathcliff. I originally experimented with Suegerhith, but I decided Shoegerhith fit him better.
Comics are especially useful for things that if they happened would be funny. Such as:
"Uncle Joe, why are we eating off the analog wall clocks?"
"No wonder it was so hard to see what time it was today!"
Sometimes I can just use humor in the comics, or I can just say them to people as I think of them. Often, things will strike my humor that other people might not notice or think of, such as commercials:
"We were Maine's first credit union," the advertisement said.
"Yes," I added, "We were Maine's first credit union, but before us Maine did have some credit confederates."
Sometimes humor on words can come unintentionally, like a baseball practice this year. It was pretty cold out, and all the players were wearing long sleeves except for me, as I can withstand cold well.
"Tomas," one of the players asked, "Why aren't you wearing long sleeves?"
"I don't need them."
"Aren't you cold?"
"No."
"How are you not cold? It's freezing out!"
"I never get cold."
"Why are you never cold Tomas?"
"Because I'm always hot."
At that the whole team cracked up.
"Can't argue with that logic," one player said.
But without a sense of humor, something falling over for example, could be much more of a big deal than it is if you are laid back enough to see the humor in the situation, and calmly remedy it, as I have attempted to do all my life.
To take things lightly, it helps to have a sense of humor, and that is never something that I have lacked. For many years, I have always made jokes, often a play on words, such as one that my mother relates:
"Do kiwis come from North Kiwia or South Kiwia?"
When I was eight, I started turning my sense of humor into comics that I would write for myself. The main character was a dog named Shoegerhith. This even fit with my humor of words, as the name was a combination between the comics Shoe, Garfield, and Heathcliff. I originally experimented with Suegerhith, but I decided Shoegerhith fit him better.
Comics are especially useful for things that if they happened would be funny. Such as:
"Uncle Joe, why are we eating off the analog wall clocks?"
"No wonder it was so hard to see what time it was today!"
Sometimes I can just use humor in the comics, or I can just say them to people as I think of them. Often, things will strike my humor that other people might not notice or think of, such as commercials:
"We were Maine's first credit union," the advertisement said.
"Yes," I added, "We were Maine's first credit union, but before us Maine did have some credit confederates."
Sometimes humor on words can come unintentionally, like a baseball practice this year. It was pretty cold out, and all the players were wearing long sleeves except for me, as I can withstand cold well.
"Tomas," one of the players asked, "Why aren't you wearing long sleeves?"
"I don't need them."
"Aren't you cold?"
"No."
"How are you not cold? It's freezing out!"
"I never get cold."
"Why are you never cold Tomas?"
"Because I'm always hot."
At that the whole team cracked up.
"Can't argue with that logic," one player said.
But without a sense of humor, something falling over for example, could be much more of a big deal than it is if you are laid back enough to see the humor in the situation, and calmly remedy it, as I have attempted to do all my life.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Week 5 Adult Memoir, Audience
"Don't lose these," the coach said. "We can't let anyone find our signs. Make sure to memorize them, then tear it up, eat it, I don't care, don't let anyone else get them."
I walked back into the dugout to get my bag. Mine was the only one still there, everyone else had gotten theirs. As I picked it up, I noticed a piece of paper on the bench. I picked it up, checked to make sure that it was not mine. It was not.
"Yes," I replied, "This was in the dugout."
"Have you read the signs Joe?" he asked.
"Oh, I think I left it in the dugout-" he started.
"SHH!" a bunch of players said.
"That's what I thought he said," the coach replied.
***
I walked back into the dugout to get my bag. Mine was the only one still there, everyone else had gotten theirs. As I picked it up, I noticed a piece of paper on the bench. I picked it up, checked to make sure that it was not mine. It was not.
***
I thought of asking if anyone was missing theirs so as to not get anyone in trouble, but several players had left already, and the others were signing papers with one of the coaches, so I could not ask if anyone had left theirs very well with the coaches there.
***
I went up to the other coach.
"Have you signed the papers yet?" he asked.
"Yes," I replied, "This was in the dugout."
"Oh, you saved someone's ass!" he exclaimed. "We'll find out who left it next practice." It was said in a nice tone, even though the words might not sound that way. I knew that they would handle it well.
***
I ended up getting to the next practice late. But at one point the coach was going over bunt defenses.
"Have you read the signs Joe?" he asked.
"Oh, I think I left it in the dugout-" he started.
"SHH!" a bunch of players said.
"You left it where?" the coach asked.
"He left it in his room," another player corrected.
"That's what I thought he said," the coach replied.
Week 4 Voice childhood memoir
I have always had difficulty with heat. Whenever it is hot, I always prefer to stay inside. When I get sick, I often get high fevers. About eight or nine times I have had fevers of 105. When I went to New Jersey to play baseball for a tournament I had difficulty withstanding the heat and humidity.
On the other hand, I have no problem with cold. Whenever I wash my hands, I always use cold water. I have not worn anything long sleeved except for baseball in two years. Last winter, I never wore a coat or a long sleeved shirt at all, which concerned my mother.
So it is no surprise that I like colder classrooms over warmer ones. Unfortunately, EMCC does not really let the students pick.
Over three semesters, I took three math classes with one teacher. Algebra in my first semester, Calculus in my third, and Calculus II in my fourth. The classroom however, was not always to my liking, even if the teacher was. The classroom always was kept very hot. In the really steamy days, the teacher would turn on a fan, which helped a bit. But the fluorescent lights would bother me also, combined with the heat.
One time, I went in to take a test, confident and remembering everything. He talked for a few minutes, and I could feel the heat begin to get to me. As he finally was handing out the tests my head was hurting a lot. I always have headaches, there is not a day I don't have one to some degree, but this was one of the really bad ones, induced by the heat and fluorescent lights. By the time I got my test, and I looked at it, everything that I had so carefully remembered was forgotten. I had pretty much instantaneously lost all my short term memory. I could not remember anything very well. I was only able to remember how to do one of the problems, and many times I vision would fade, and I would be about to lose consciousness, and it would come back. I worked through the test as well as I could anyhow, because he would not like to have me see it, then he would have to make another one for me to do later.
I finally exited the class, once outside, able to think a little clearly, fully expecting the worst, as it was easier to do that. I thought that it was possible that I might get something like a thirty on the test. His tests were extremely hard because he would add things to it that we had never seen before, and expect us to figure it out. I was generally happy with an eighty, and made it up by getting a hundred on all of the homework. But fortunately for me, everyone else had difficulty with the test as well, and many got worse scores than I did. So the teacher took the square roots of everyone's grades, mine was a 54, and ended up with a 73, which I was okay with.
I ended up on the course with my first A- ever, but I was okay with that. It was Calculus after all.
But I found the other extreme when I was taking an Ethics class. It was a new classroom, still smelling new inside. And after a couple of classes I realized that they kept the room at a pretty cold temperature. I noticed this because another person in the class asked me a question "Aren't you cold?"
Considering that everyone else were wearing their coats and sweaters in the classroom, I was very happy. It felt perfect to me. Especially considering how the last semester I had dealt with the Calculus room.
On the other hand, I have no problem with cold. Whenever I wash my hands, I always use cold water. I have not worn anything long sleeved except for baseball in two years. Last winter, I never wore a coat or a long sleeved shirt at all, which concerned my mother.
So it is no surprise that I like colder classrooms over warmer ones. Unfortunately, EMCC does not really let the students pick.
Over three semesters, I took three math classes with one teacher. Algebra in my first semester, Calculus in my third, and Calculus II in my fourth. The classroom however, was not always to my liking, even if the teacher was. The classroom always was kept very hot. In the really steamy days, the teacher would turn on a fan, which helped a bit. But the fluorescent lights would bother me also, combined with the heat.
One time, I went in to take a test, confident and remembering everything. He talked for a few minutes, and I could feel the heat begin to get to me. As he finally was handing out the tests my head was hurting a lot. I always have headaches, there is not a day I don't have one to some degree, but this was one of the really bad ones, induced by the heat and fluorescent lights. By the time I got my test, and I looked at it, everything that I had so carefully remembered was forgotten. I had pretty much instantaneously lost all my short term memory. I could not remember anything very well. I was only able to remember how to do one of the problems, and many times I vision would fade, and I would be about to lose consciousness, and it would come back. I worked through the test as well as I could anyhow, because he would not like to have me see it, then he would have to make another one for me to do later.
I finally exited the class, once outside, able to think a little clearly, fully expecting the worst, as it was easier to do that. I thought that it was possible that I might get something like a thirty on the test. His tests were extremely hard because he would add things to it that we had never seen before, and expect us to figure it out. I was generally happy with an eighty, and made it up by getting a hundred on all of the homework. But fortunately for me, everyone else had difficulty with the test as well, and many got worse scores than I did. So the teacher took the square roots of everyone's grades, mine was a 54, and ended up with a 73, which I was okay with.
I ended up on the course with my first A- ever, but I was okay with that. It was Calculus after all.
But I found the other extreme when I was taking an Ethics class. It was a new classroom, still smelling new inside. And after a couple of classes I realized that they kept the room at a pretty cold temperature. I noticed this because another person in the class asked me a question "Aren't you cold?"
Considering that everyone else were wearing their coats and sweaters in the classroom, I was very happy. It felt perfect to me. Especially considering how the last semester I had dealt with the Calculus room.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Week 3 Travel Tone
I walked down through the campus. There was a large tent in the middle of the grass, but it did not look like anywhere the baseball team would be at.
Our team was going to have a table somewhere on the campus during "harvest day", (Such a misnomer, nothing gets harvested), and all of the players were supposed to get there at some time, and stand at the table. But of course, I had neglected to ask the coach where we were going to have the table, so I was left wandering the campus looking for it.
I went into Katahdin Hall, as he had said that everyone would have to go right by us to get food. But no one was there either. I decided that I could go up to the library, and check my email to see if the coach had remembered that he had not told anyone where the table was going to be, and realized that that would make it rather difficult for anyone to find it.
I went up the stairs, getting some Purell from the wall dispenser as I passed by. I went into the computer area in the library, and it looked like a couple of weeks after the semester had ended. There were only four people there, and one of them was wearing a blue hat with a yellow brim, precisely like mine. I went over and took the computer next to my teammate.
"Oh, hey," he said. He was apparently typing a paper for a class.
"Hey Doug," I responded.
I figured that I would give it a minute before asking him if he knew where the table would be. But he turned to me instead.
"Do you know where that table is?"
"No, I don't," I replied. "I've been looking for it."
"I have too, and I haven't seen anything. People will probably be there at noon though."
"They said that they would be here at ten."
Doug picked up his cell phone. "I'll text him."
He texted the coach, and continued typing his paper, while I proceeded to look busy by opening and closing various things such as my email, Blackboard, and Myemcc.
"The coach says it's in the gym, they're still getting set up."
"I should have thought of that," I said.
"I'll probably be down there at noon," he said.
"Okay, see you there."
I walked around the campus to the gym, and I went inside. Inside, there were large inflatable things, but no yellow and blue hats that I could see. I turned, and in the information window just inside the door was my coach, talking with the coach of the basketball team. He called me over eventually to show the basketball coach our new EMCC baseball shirts, and then I waited, while a bunch of people were walking about. There were a few too many people for me, and the coach did not seem like he was needing help with a table, and would have said something if they had had one, I was pretty sure. And they were still setting up stuff, so I decided that I would come back at noon, when I knew that Doug at least would be there.
I travelled across the campus back to the library, and met Doug coming out.
"Are you heading over there now?" I asked.
"Yeah."
"There's no one there yet. I saw the coach, but there isn't a single other person there."
"Do they have a table set up yet?" Doug asked.
"No, they don't seem to have anything set up yet."
"It's only 11:30," Doug said, "Yeah, I think I'll wait 'til noon."
"I probably will as well," I said. "See you."
I went into the library, still a little overwhelmed by too many people, and I went to the corner and read part of Stephen King's "On Writing" book, as I had nothing else to do. I turned on a computer to check the time. It was noon. I went back to the gym, and now there were a ton of people trying to get in. The line for the information window with my coach in it extended out the doors of the gym and outside.
I slipped past it, and saw that my coach was busy giving out harvest day shirts to people. I figured that we must have a table somewhere, but I was having difficulty thinking because they were playing very loud music, intolerably loud.
"Hi Tomas!"
"Oh, hi."
It was one of the softball players. Our baseball team had ridden down on the bus with the softball team for our first games a couple of weeks ago.
"Are you looking for something?" she asked.
"I'm looking for the baseball team. I have no idea where they are."
"I don't either," she said.
It was almost impossible to hear anyone, and I had an awful headache. I always have a headache to some degree, but the loud music and heat was killing me.
I decided that I should just ask my coach where our table was, but the line of people extending back into the parking lot discouraged me from it. I finally just hurried outside, and escaped from all of it.
I was on the point of just giving up and just waiting in the library until my mother returned when the assistant coach drove up and honked his horn at me.
"Where is the table we're having for the harvest day?" he asked from his truck.
"It's supposed to be in the gym," I said, "But I can't find it anywhere."
He drove on, and I followed, walking. I figured that if I followed the coach, that I couldn't be missing my duty of being at a table. Once inside, he turned to me.
"Have you seen anyone else here?"
"The coach was in the window, and I know someone else was coming at noon."
But the coach was no longer at the window, so the assistant coach just wandered about, looking for a table. The speakers for the music were right on the floor, under the basketball hoop. And standing remotely near them, it was the loudest sound I have ever heard in my life. It was not even music, just a crushing cacophony of sound ripping through my head. I could only stand it if I were at the other end of the gym. Nicki Minaj, Owl City, Taio Cruz, Sean Paul, and Michael Jackson- at that volume- all sounded exactly the same.
I made sure not to be too close to the coach though, or to let him out of my sight. Putting a tail on a coach is what I am really good at. Tolerating ridiculously loud club music- not so much.
"I thought we were supposed to have a table," I said to the coach at one point.
"I thought we were too, I don't know," the assistant coach responded.
Eventually, after we had wandered for several minutes, the head coach returned to the window, and the assistant coach met him there. After they talked for a minute, the head coach motioned me to come over, and gave me a harvest day shirt.
"You never got one of these, why not?" he asked.
Considering that for a while through all of this I had been near the point of collapse, my head that had heard too much ear crushing Nicki Minaj, could not come up with any sort of response.
I went back away from the window with the assistant coach.
"So there's no table?" I asked.
"No, no table. And there's no requirement to stay," he said.
So I walked out with the shirt. Which, with everything else going on, was the last thing on my mind- but close to my permanent loss of hearing.
Our team was going to have a table somewhere on the campus during "harvest day", (Such a misnomer, nothing gets harvested), and all of the players were supposed to get there at some time, and stand at the table. But of course, I had neglected to ask the coach where we were going to have the table, so I was left wandering the campus looking for it.
I went into Katahdin Hall, as he had said that everyone would have to go right by us to get food. But no one was there either. I decided that I could go up to the library, and check my email to see if the coach had remembered that he had not told anyone where the table was going to be, and realized that that would make it rather difficult for anyone to find it.
I went up the stairs, getting some Purell from the wall dispenser as I passed by. I went into the computer area in the library, and it looked like a couple of weeks after the semester had ended. There were only four people there, and one of them was wearing a blue hat with a yellow brim, precisely like mine. I went over and took the computer next to my teammate.
"Oh, hey," he said. He was apparently typing a paper for a class.
"Hey Doug," I responded.
I figured that I would give it a minute before asking him if he knew where the table would be. But he turned to me instead.
"Do you know where that table is?"
"No, I don't," I replied. "I've been looking for it."
"I have too, and I haven't seen anything. People will probably be there at noon though."
"They said that they would be here at ten."
Doug picked up his cell phone. "I'll text him."
He texted the coach, and continued typing his paper, while I proceeded to look busy by opening and closing various things such as my email, Blackboard, and Myemcc.
"The coach says it's in the gym, they're still getting set up."
"I should have thought of that," I said.
"I'll probably be down there at noon," he said.
"Okay, see you there."
I walked around the campus to the gym, and I went inside. Inside, there were large inflatable things, but no yellow and blue hats that I could see. I turned, and in the information window just inside the door was my coach, talking with the coach of the basketball team. He called me over eventually to show the basketball coach our new EMCC baseball shirts, and then I waited, while a bunch of people were walking about. There were a few too many people for me, and the coach did not seem like he was needing help with a table, and would have said something if they had had one, I was pretty sure. And they were still setting up stuff, so I decided that I would come back at noon, when I knew that Doug at least would be there.
I travelled across the campus back to the library, and met Doug coming out.
"Are you heading over there now?" I asked.
"Yeah."
"There's no one there yet. I saw the coach, but there isn't a single other person there."
"Do they have a table set up yet?" Doug asked.
"No, they don't seem to have anything set up yet."
"It's only 11:30," Doug said, "Yeah, I think I'll wait 'til noon."
"I probably will as well," I said. "See you."
I went into the library, still a little overwhelmed by too many people, and I went to the corner and read part of Stephen King's "On Writing" book, as I had nothing else to do. I turned on a computer to check the time. It was noon. I went back to the gym, and now there were a ton of people trying to get in. The line for the information window with my coach in it extended out the doors of the gym and outside.
I slipped past it, and saw that my coach was busy giving out harvest day shirts to people. I figured that we must have a table somewhere, but I was having difficulty thinking because they were playing very loud music, intolerably loud.
"Hi Tomas!"
"Oh, hi."
It was one of the softball players. Our baseball team had ridden down on the bus with the softball team for our first games a couple of weeks ago.
"Are you looking for something?" she asked.
"I'm looking for the baseball team. I have no idea where they are."
"I don't either," she said.
It was almost impossible to hear anyone, and I had an awful headache. I always have a headache to some degree, but the loud music and heat was killing me.
I decided that I should just ask my coach where our table was, but the line of people extending back into the parking lot discouraged me from it. I finally just hurried outside, and escaped from all of it.
I was on the point of just giving up and just waiting in the library until my mother returned when the assistant coach drove up and honked his horn at me.
"Where is the table we're having for the harvest day?" he asked from his truck.
"It's supposed to be in the gym," I said, "But I can't find it anywhere."
He drove on, and I followed, walking. I figured that if I followed the coach, that I couldn't be missing my duty of being at a table. Once inside, he turned to me.
"Have you seen anyone else here?"
"The coach was in the window, and I know someone else was coming at noon."
But the coach was no longer at the window, so the assistant coach just wandered about, looking for a table. The speakers for the music were right on the floor, under the basketball hoop. And standing remotely near them, it was the loudest sound I have ever heard in my life. It was not even music, just a crushing cacophony of sound ripping through my head. I could only stand it if I were at the other end of the gym. Nicki Minaj, Owl City, Taio Cruz, Sean Paul, and Michael Jackson- at that volume- all sounded exactly the same.
I made sure not to be too close to the coach though, or to let him out of my sight. Putting a tail on a coach is what I am really good at. Tolerating ridiculously loud club music- not so much.
"I thought we were supposed to have a table," I said to the coach at one point.
"I thought we were too, I don't know," the assistant coach responded.
Eventually, after we had wandered for several minutes, the head coach returned to the window, and the assistant coach met him there. After they talked for a minute, the head coach motioned me to come over, and gave me a harvest day shirt.
"You never got one of these, why not?" he asked.
Considering that for a while through all of this I had been near the point of collapse, my head that had heard too much ear crushing Nicki Minaj, could not come up with any sort of response.
I went back away from the window with the assistant coach.
"So there's no table?" I asked.
"No, no table. And there's no requirement to stay," he said.
So I walked out with the shirt. Which, with everything else going on, was the last thing on my mind- but close to my permanent loss of hearing.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Week 2 Coherence
My grandmother walked over to me.
"I would invite you in to see them, but they are not dressed yet."
She led my mother in to see my grandmother's friends, Nita and Suzie. The first I had heard of them together was when they went on a road trip across the U.S. in an RV a couple of years ago.
They entered the rented room, where Suzie was getting things ready, and Nita was still in her nightgown eating a sticky bun.
"Oh, hi!" she said, "Come in, I'm just eating one of Jean's cookies."
They talked for a moment.
"I think I should get out of bed soon," Nita said, "I wonder what I should wear?"
"Clothes," Suzie replied.
"Yes, that sounds good," Nita replied.
"Better than that saran wrap you wore yesterday. People stared."
Events such as this pointed out to me how much they remind me of Rinehart's Tish, Lizzie, and Aggie, three middle aged women who have adventures together.
Nita walked over and entered our car.
"Hi!" she said, "I've seen you a lot in the pictures."
Felicia commented about how it has not been picnic weather.
"Yes," Nita replied, "But I prefer eating inside anyhow. Away from all the ants. And uncles. Oh, I'm going to love you, you haven't heard all of my old jokes."
We reached the restaurant, and got out of the car.
"Suzie and Jean aren't here yet," my mother said, "They should be here soon-"
We turned around, and Nita was already off into the restaurant. We hurried in after her.
"Table for seven," my mother said.
"Six," I corrected.
"That will be just a minute," the cashier said.
We stood off to the side so that people could get by us, and Nita found an empty seat to sit down in next to us, with her back to someone else. We stood waiting, and then my grandmother entered.
"You should come in a little farther," Felicia said to her.
She moved in closer to us, smushing me between her, my mother, and a vending machine. We stood like that, with me on one foot, until they got a table.
Nita sat at the end because she was claustrophobic. My grandmother sat across from me, and Suzie sat across from Nita.
Suzie was interesting. She had long grey hair, and was definitely the youngest of the three, looking to be in her sixties. She reminded me a lot of Aggie from Rinehart's books. Aggie was always having things happen to her, like losing her false teeth, or falling over.
Suzie, on their rv trip, refused to sit down. She wanted to stand up. As a result, when they had to stop suddenly, she was hurled into the table, snapping a leg off of it. She was okay, though her back was sore from it. Upon hearing this story from my mother, I had said, "Well, at least she didn't break a leg- oh wait, she did."
Suzie ordered pancakes and eggs, and was disappointed that I wasn't going to help her eat them, as if I didn't help her, she was afraid she would eat them all herself. Which she did.
My grandmother stretched out her feet the whole time, so I kept my feet under my seat, which was almost where hers were. She reminds me a good bit of Tish from Rinehart's book. Tish is more of the leader of the group who decides to do things, some of which she probably shouldn't do, but once she determines to do something, she won't give up. She had not driven during the drive across the country because she was too slow. Tish was a very fast driver. My grandmother is a very slow driver, but a safe driver. But apparently not the safest talker. In I believe New Mexico, at a restaurant, Suzie took the piece of paper that covers up the straw, and stuck it up her nose. My grandmother was so surprised that she swore by accident. Swearing by accident was always something Aggie did, but I would have to say that Tish shares more characteristics with my grandmother.
But they had lots of fun with the straws then, which led to this day in the restaurant:
"Where are the straws?" Suzie asked, and they all fell to laughing.
Nita went out to take a cigarette.
"I'm down to one a day," she said. "I've quit tons of times. I'm an expert quitter."
"You must also be an expert starter," I said.
"We don't talk about that part," she replied.
Nita needed to brush her teeth, so we went back to their apartment, and she brushed her teeth, also showing us a stuffed bear who had accidentally come with them.
"It jumped in the bag. No jewelry is safe from it. It steals it all."
Suzie's ipad was not connecting to the internet, and despite not having never used an ipad before, I assisted her in figuring out what was wrong with it. Suzie was very good with computers, which would be another difference from Aggie, as Aggie lived in the early twentieth century.
Suzie was very happy she was on the internet again. We left to my grandmother's apartment, and on getting out, Nita borrowed my arm, to walk to the building.
Nita is about 84, and lively for her age having just recently had surgery. She seems to be the one who compares the most to Rinehart's character Lizzie, in that she is a little more normal, but she shares features of the other characters as well. It was the first time I had ever leant my arm to someone, and it was a little different.
"Make a muscle," she said. "Come on legs."
She was panting a bit, so I asked her if she wanted to rest for a minute.
"Oh no, I'm fine. I'll make it. I'll just pant a lot, like this."
She started gasping really heavily on purpose.
"Come on legs."
We reached my grandmother's apartment, and Nita sat down in a chair. Suzie showed us her iphone's radar application, that showed that the rain had just passed over us.
Nita requested a sculpted bear that she had made out of wood that she had apparently given to my grandmother at some point. I retrieved it for her, and she looked at it.
"What is it supposed to be?" Suzie asked.
"It's a medicine bear," Suzie replied. "It helps you when you don't feel good."
"Does it help mentally ill people like me?" Suzie asked.
"Maybe not for a case so severe as yours."
Suzie went on to tell us about how her husband had been accumulating cats. He had found one that was not doing too well, then found another one. He had named them all and could not go away too long or he would be afraid the cats would get hungry.
"My husband doesn't have any cats," Nita said, "We just have each other," hugging herself.
"Oh, isn't that nice," Suzie said.
"But he isn't that good in bed," Nita added, "Oops! I didn't say that!"
We were sitting on the couch, Nita was at a chair at the table, and Suzie was in a chair next to the couch. Nita was still gasping pretty badly, and my grandmother offered her something to drink.
"No, I'll be fine. I just need to rest."
"You could rest on the couch, you could lay down on it."
"No thanks," Nita replied, "All those legs would be bumpy. I could just lay down here on the table with my medicine bear."
We said good bye, and they went off to do some shopping, then to go whale watching the next day. And I was left with material for my english assignment, and memories of a very interesting trifecta.
"I would invite you in to see them, but they are not dressed yet."
She led my mother in to see my grandmother's friends, Nita and Suzie. The first I had heard of them together was when they went on a road trip across the U.S. in an RV a couple of years ago.
They entered the rented room, where Suzie was getting things ready, and Nita was still in her nightgown eating a sticky bun.
"Oh, hi!" she said, "Come in, I'm just eating one of Jean's cookies."
They talked for a moment.
"I think I should get out of bed soon," Nita said, "I wonder what I should wear?"
"Clothes," Suzie replied.
"Yes, that sounds good," Nita replied.
"Better than that saran wrap you wore yesterday. People stared."
Events such as this pointed out to me how much they remind me of Rinehart's Tish, Lizzie, and Aggie, three middle aged women who have adventures together.
Nita walked over and entered our car.
"Hi!" she said, "I've seen you a lot in the pictures."
Felicia commented about how it has not been picnic weather.
"Yes," Nita replied, "But I prefer eating inside anyhow. Away from all the ants. And uncles. Oh, I'm going to love you, you haven't heard all of my old jokes."
We reached the restaurant, and got out of the car.
"Suzie and Jean aren't here yet," my mother said, "They should be here soon-"
We turned around, and Nita was already off into the restaurant. We hurried in after her.
"Table for seven," my mother said.
"Six," I corrected.
"That will be just a minute," the cashier said.
We stood off to the side so that people could get by us, and Nita found an empty seat to sit down in next to us, with her back to someone else. We stood waiting, and then my grandmother entered.
"You should come in a little farther," Felicia said to her.
She moved in closer to us, smushing me between her, my mother, and a vending machine. We stood like that, with me on one foot, until they got a table.
Nita sat at the end because she was claustrophobic. My grandmother sat across from me, and Suzie sat across from Nita.
Suzie was interesting. She had long grey hair, and was definitely the youngest of the three, looking to be in her sixties. She reminded me a lot of Aggie from Rinehart's books. Aggie was always having things happen to her, like losing her false teeth, or falling over.
Suzie, on their rv trip, refused to sit down. She wanted to stand up. As a result, when they had to stop suddenly, she was hurled into the table, snapping a leg off of it. She was okay, though her back was sore from it. Upon hearing this story from my mother, I had said, "Well, at least she didn't break a leg- oh wait, she did."
Suzie ordered pancakes and eggs, and was disappointed that I wasn't going to help her eat them, as if I didn't help her, she was afraid she would eat them all herself. Which she did.
My grandmother stretched out her feet the whole time, so I kept my feet under my seat, which was almost where hers were. She reminds me a good bit of Tish from Rinehart's book. Tish is more of the leader of the group who decides to do things, some of which she probably shouldn't do, but once she determines to do something, she won't give up. She had not driven during the drive across the country because she was too slow. Tish was a very fast driver. My grandmother is a very slow driver, but a safe driver. But apparently not the safest talker. In I believe New Mexico, at a restaurant, Suzie took the piece of paper that covers up the straw, and stuck it up her nose. My grandmother was so surprised that she swore by accident. Swearing by accident was always something Aggie did, but I would have to say that Tish shares more characteristics with my grandmother.
But they had lots of fun with the straws then, which led to this day in the restaurant:
"Where are the straws?" Suzie asked, and they all fell to laughing.
Nita went out to take a cigarette.
"I'm down to one a day," she said. "I've quit tons of times. I'm an expert quitter."
"You must also be an expert starter," I said.
"We don't talk about that part," she replied.
Nita needed to brush her teeth, so we went back to their apartment, and she brushed her teeth, also showing us a stuffed bear who had accidentally come with them.
"It jumped in the bag. No jewelry is safe from it. It steals it all."
Suzie's ipad was not connecting to the internet, and despite not having never used an ipad before, I assisted her in figuring out what was wrong with it. Suzie was very good with computers, which would be another difference from Aggie, as Aggie lived in the early twentieth century.
Suzie was very happy she was on the internet again. We left to my grandmother's apartment, and on getting out, Nita borrowed my arm, to walk to the building.
Nita is about 84, and lively for her age having just recently had surgery. She seems to be the one who compares the most to Rinehart's character Lizzie, in that she is a little more normal, but she shares features of the other characters as well. It was the first time I had ever leant my arm to someone, and it was a little different.
"Make a muscle," she said. "Come on legs."
She was panting a bit, so I asked her if she wanted to rest for a minute.
"Oh no, I'm fine. I'll make it. I'll just pant a lot, like this."
She started gasping really heavily on purpose.
"Come on legs."
We reached my grandmother's apartment, and Nita sat down in a chair. Suzie showed us her iphone's radar application, that showed that the rain had just passed over us.
Nita requested a sculpted bear that she had made out of wood that she had apparently given to my grandmother at some point. I retrieved it for her, and she looked at it.
"What is it supposed to be?" Suzie asked.
"It's a medicine bear," Suzie replied. "It helps you when you don't feel good."
"Does it help mentally ill people like me?" Suzie asked.
"Maybe not for a case so severe as yours."
Suzie went on to tell us about how her husband had been accumulating cats. He had found one that was not doing too well, then found another one. He had named them all and could not go away too long or he would be afraid the cats would get hungry.
"My husband doesn't have any cats," Nita said, "We just have each other," hugging herself.
"Oh, isn't that nice," Suzie said.
"But he isn't that good in bed," Nita added, "Oops! I didn't say that!"
We were sitting on the couch, Nita was at a chair at the table, and Suzie was in a chair next to the couch. Nita was still gasping pretty badly, and my grandmother offered her something to drink.
"No, I'll be fine. I just need to rest."
"You could rest on the couch, you could lay down on it."
"No thanks," Nita replied, "All those legs would be bumpy. I could just lay down here on the table with my medicine bear."
We said good bye, and they went off to do some shopping, then to go whale watching the next day. And I was left with material for my english assignment, and memories of a very interesting trifecta.
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