I really wish I could get the divine inspiration that lead me to write "the green house" more often. It would be so convienent, and my bloge posts wouldn't always be so horribly dull.
Today was the Texas/Ohio State football game. Not that I really understand football at all- it seems like such a neanderthallish sport to me. And why, oh, why does it take four hours to get through a game that should technically be about an hour long? It's so pointless, all the stopping. Just keep playing, no one wants to see you all walking around slapping each other's asses and whatnot.
Today also marks day six of having a foreign exchange student. Not gonna lie (the famous phrase of Jera) it was sort of awkward at first. But now that we've gotten to know eachother better, it's much easier to get along. The language barrier definately makes things a bit difficult, but it's not so bad. I just wish I had more stuff to do. I realised today, in the midst of making plans, that I lead a life that, to an outsider, may seem very dull.
Today is also the fourth anniversary of September 11th, which is odd to me. Four years seems like such a long-ass time. I was in eighth grade back then- in charge of the school. Now, I am again. And this time it's not so much a terrorist disastor, but rather a natural one- the hurracane. People are making a huge deal out of it. Which is not, of course, to say that the hurricane is not a big deal, because it is. But it's odd to think that the current chaos in America- the cause of economy failure, loss of life, and the coming together of the american people- is this time caused by nature, a force people so often forget about. Same thing back in September 11th- people never thought about terrorists, they were just like, "hell, that's for the people in palestine, america's golden, screw it" and look waht happened. Now it's as though people are like, "nature? fuck nature. We're humans, we can rape the earth all we want"... but nay, the earth has its revenge. Which makes you think- how many other things are we neglecting to remember can come back and bite us in the ass. It's like Dane Cook (oh thou art wise) says... "what if out of the UFOs come giant Native Americans?" That's just the type of kick we need, all the Indians coming back and retaliating for the centuries of abuse by us. I hate to say it, but it pretty much serves us right for being a selfish bitch of a country.
And there's my patriotism there for ya.
On the other hand, tomorrow I shall be attending an Indians game for the first time in ages, and it promises to be a good one, as the Indians fight their way to the pennant... erm, wild card. But it sounds less sucky if I say pennant.
Anyway, anyone with awesome plans in the ocming month, lemme know. Since some people ditched me for the alkaline trio/mcr concert, and now I shan't be going. I'm so angry.
Grr.
Saturday, September 10, 2005
Thursday, September 08, 2005
If You Feel Discouraged
It's been a long time. I haven't got the time or the motivation to do a real post, so instead I'm going to be revolutionary and post some homework. You see, we had to write five (I've only yet done three... oops...) pre-writes on college essays. So I thought that by posting them, I would be able to a) get them typed up for school; b) practice my typing skills (I'd be a kickass secretary); c) give you all an insight or two into my soul; d) have an excuse to be on a compter.
so see how useful these were?
1)The world tells us that our role models are to be found in the generation ahead of us. Society dictates that we should strive to act as those of the generation ahead of us do- that our parents and grandparents are the personification of today’s ideals.
This idea is not incorrect. I believe my parents and my parents’ friends are good people, and good role models. But I also believe that true humility can be learned from those younger than us. Whether by a day or a decade, we are reminded that age does not inevitably lead to wisdom and grace. Rather, we are reminded that only true perseverance and firm morals will lead us to wisdom.
One of my best friends is a perfect example of this. Caitlin was born on the first day of 1988. By this time, I had a week of life experience under my belt. Fast forward fourteen years, to the beginning of our high school careers. I met Cait within the first week of that year, and within the month, we were close friends.
Over the years, Caitlin has been a source of laughter, inspiration, and occasionally frustration. Caitlin is one of the most creative people I know. She has talent in each of the arts- music, painting, drawing, writing, and speaking; all come second nature to her. She is also involved with everything and anything- whether it is Youth Challenge, theatre, or work. Cait exposed me to each of these experiences. In freshman year, I joined crew because she did, and it swiftly became one of my favorite extra-curricular activities. In sophomore year, when I was looking for a service opportunity, she boasted about the fun of Youth Challenge. Naturally, I wanted to join, and it turned out to be an amazing and enlightening experience. We even shared the joys of working with ice cream, and often argued over the differences between custard, soft serve, and old-fashioned ice cream.
Cait has been a good friend to me for these past years. She has been there for me unfailingly when I need her- whether listening to my problems or bringing me Vitamin Water while sick in bed- she has never wavered in her friendship. It must be said, we don’t always agree on things, and we both are stubborn people, but these characteristics are what make our friendship so dynamic.
Caitlin always sets and example. She never follows the crowd, which is one of the things I admire most about her. She fights for what she believes in with a passion that inspires all. Her taste is distinctive, and a unique and perfect expression of herself. She is never afraid to be this self, and I strive to be as much of an individual as she is.
Caitlin may be a bit younger than me, but I believe her individualism and creativity are characteristics I should hope to accomplish in myself. It is truly humbling to look up to someone who is a peer, who is even younger than me. Caitlin has been a steadfast friend and a true role model during my high school years.
2)On a dark, humid summer’s night, three teenagers drove aimlessly around a lakeside suburb of Cleveland. Two lived in another nearby neighbourhood, and the third had journeyed from across the city, in the same blue Camry they now drove in.
On hot summer nights like this one, in the middle of July, there is never anything to do. The novel idea of ‘every day is a weekend’ loses its charm around Independence Day. New ideas are exhausted, and there is not yet the imminent threat of school to spur you into true motivation. There was nothing different about this mid-summers night. Until one had an idea.
With a jerk, Elizabeth was reminded of the stories of her father’s high school escapades. ‘Let’s do something stupid,’ she suggested with excitement, which went naturally un-comprehended by her friends. Before further explanation was requested, she went on, ‘Let’s steal an orange barrel.’
It is often joked that, in Ohio, there are four seasons- winter, more winter, still winter, and construction. This said July evening fell in the ‘construction’ category. One simply could not find a route from point A to point B without the orange construction barrels impeding their progress. It seems as though inspiration can come from strange places- even unsightly orange plastic.
Instantly, the three teenagers because fugitives. They had everything in place for a crime- motive (boredom) means (a car and six good hands), and opportunity (for when was better than at this hour, operating in the dark covet of night). All the makings of a crime were set in place.
One unavoidable truth of useless objects (such as orange barrels) is that they are in the way everywhere all the time- until you actually need them. It was important to find just the right place to take it from, so it wouldn’t be missed.
Once the cone was found, the friends sprang into action. Elizabeth and her neighbour Kevin flew from the car as the driver watched for passing cars. Within brief yet agonizing moments, Elizabeth shouted the order, ‘Go!’ and Kevin had packed himself into the back with the surprisingly large orange barrel.
They sped away from the scene with one though on their minds- ‘what do we do with it’? There was only on option in their minds- to leave it elsewhere. The car wove its way to a neighbourhood not so far from the crime scene, and they left the victim in the front driveway of Elizabeth’s boyfriend’s house. After this, they fled the city.
In the coming days, the three laughed watching neighbourhood children playing with the mysterious cone from the night. When the epic unfolded, a fad quickly popped up to leave barrels as tokens of admiration for one’s friends.Nearly a year has passed, but, especially with the advent of a new summer, the tradition continues at times. A smile never fails to show on this driver’s face when she thinks of the crime committed and the unexpected trend it began
And here is my personal favorite, which I entitled "The Green House":
In a twisting, confusing suburban neighbourhood, children play. Two nine-year-old girls ride sparkly princess bikes past a green colonial. Across the street a group of six-to-eight year old boys play with trucks of a vivid yellow hue. In the backyard next door, a four-year-old struggles to push herself on a swing. But outside the green house with the white garage, there is the most laughter heard. Outside the green house are five seventeen-year-olds, playing a childish game of SPUD.
The other kids in the neighbourhood had to ride their bikes to each other’s houses- but outside the green house sit four cars, glinting in the afternoon sun. Other kids on the street fight over who will play with each toy; but outside the green house, five teenagers work together without dispute. In grassy yards, children struggle to learn concepts and skills- but in the yard of the green house, five athletes use talents they have so long developed- in soccer, softball, track, volleyball, and football- to turn a childhood game into a true sport.
In the awkward years between childhood and the coming-of-age into adulthood, it is good to know that not all kids hurry to grow up. It’s good to know that entertainment is not confined to being ‘plugged in’- that fun is not limited to iPods, videogames, and AIM.
The cliché, ‘growing up doesn’t have to mean growing old’ is entirely true. Each of the seventeen-year-olds in front of that green house enjoyed the hot summer sun on their sunburnt skin, each laughed when they dodged the dirty white volleyball, and each was focused solely and intently on the game- a break from the drama of everyday teenage reality. This doesn’t mean these young adults haven’t grown up at all. On the contrary- obligations such as the SATs, ACTs, and college essays cross their mind frequently. Family tragedies have passed through their lives from time to time, teaching them strength and courage. The necessity of responsibility hovers closer and closer, a reminder of their journey into adulthood.
This game represents the last months of being children. Soon they will turn eighteen, and the government will see them as adults. Soon the will graduate, and the school will see them as adults. Soon they will go to university, and their peers will see them ad adults.
But for a few months, they can still be children. They can still spell SPUD and toss a Frisbee and watch cartoons and run in a game of tag. Perhaps at age eighteen or nineteen they can do these things. But these are the fleeting moments of dependency, the last times you will ever be together as children, instead of being together as adults, thinking of the past. These are the ‘olden days’ you will speak about years and years from now- olden days acted out in the muddy lawn in front of the green house of your best friend. These are the memories that last a lifetime.
Yes, yes, well those are all very well and such, but I believe I have two more to write. WEll, perhaps only one more for the evening... maybe just none at all?
Shit, I've run out of inspiration!
so see how useful these were?
1)The world tells us that our role models are to be found in the generation ahead of us. Society dictates that we should strive to act as those of the generation ahead of us do- that our parents and grandparents are the personification of today’s ideals.
This idea is not incorrect. I believe my parents and my parents’ friends are good people, and good role models. But I also believe that true humility can be learned from those younger than us. Whether by a day or a decade, we are reminded that age does not inevitably lead to wisdom and grace. Rather, we are reminded that only true perseverance and firm morals will lead us to wisdom.
One of my best friends is a perfect example of this. Caitlin was born on the first day of 1988. By this time, I had a week of life experience under my belt. Fast forward fourteen years, to the beginning of our high school careers. I met Cait within the first week of that year, and within the month, we were close friends.
Over the years, Caitlin has been a source of laughter, inspiration, and occasionally frustration. Caitlin is one of the most creative people I know. She has talent in each of the arts- music, painting, drawing, writing, and speaking; all come second nature to her. She is also involved with everything and anything- whether it is Youth Challenge, theatre, or work. Cait exposed me to each of these experiences. In freshman year, I joined crew because she did, and it swiftly became one of my favorite extra-curricular activities. In sophomore year, when I was looking for a service opportunity, she boasted about the fun of Youth Challenge. Naturally, I wanted to join, and it turned out to be an amazing and enlightening experience. We even shared the joys of working with ice cream, and often argued over the differences between custard, soft serve, and old-fashioned ice cream.
Cait has been a good friend to me for these past years. She has been there for me unfailingly when I need her- whether listening to my problems or bringing me Vitamin Water while sick in bed- she has never wavered in her friendship. It must be said, we don’t always agree on things, and we both are stubborn people, but these characteristics are what make our friendship so dynamic.
Caitlin always sets and example. She never follows the crowd, which is one of the things I admire most about her. She fights for what she believes in with a passion that inspires all. Her taste is distinctive, and a unique and perfect expression of herself. She is never afraid to be this self, and I strive to be as much of an individual as she is.
Caitlin may be a bit younger than me, but I believe her individualism and creativity are characteristics I should hope to accomplish in myself. It is truly humbling to look up to someone who is a peer, who is even younger than me. Caitlin has been a steadfast friend and a true role model during my high school years.
2)On a dark, humid summer’s night, three teenagers drove aimlessly around a lakeside suburb of Cleveland. Two lived in another nearby neighbourhood, and the third had journeyed from across the city, in the same blue Camry they now drove in.
On hot summer nights like this one, in the middle of July, there is never anything to do. The novel idea of ‘every day is a weekend’ loses its charm around Independence Day. New ideas are exhausted, and there is not yet the imminent threat of school to spur you into true motivation. There was nothing different about this mid-summers night. Until one had an idea.
With a jerk, Elizabeth was reminded of the stories of her father’s high school escapades. ‘Let’s do something stupid,’ she suggested with excitement, which went naturally un-comprehended by her friends. Before further explanation was requested, she went on, ‘Let’s steal an orange barrel.’
It is often joked that, in Ohio, there are four seasons- winter, more winter, still winter, and construction. This said July evening fell in the ‘construction’ category. One simply could not find a route from point A to point B without the orange construction barrels impeding their progress. It seems as though inspiration can come from strange places- even unsightly orange plastic.
Instantly, the three teenagers because fugitives. They had everything in place for a crime- motive (boredom) means (a car and six good hands), and opportunity (for when was better than at this hour, operating in the dark covet of night). All the makings of a crime were set in place.
One unavoidable truth of useless objects (such as orange barrels) is that they are in the way everywhere all the time- until you actually need them. It was important to find just the right place to take it from, so it wouldn’t be missed.
Once the cone was found, the friends sprang into action. Elizabeth and her neighbour Kevin flew from the car as the driver watched for passing cars. Within brief yet agonizing moments, Elizabeth shouted the order, ‘Go!’ and Kevin had packed himself into the back with the surprisingly large orange barrel.
They sped away from the scene with one though on their minds- ‘what do we do with it’? There was only on option in their minds- to leave it elsewhere. The car wove its way to a neighbourhood not so far from the crime scene, and they left the victim in the front driveway of Elizabeth’s boyfriend’s house. After this, they fled the city.
In the coming days, the three laughed watching neighbourhood children playing with the mysterious cone from the night. When the epic unfolded, a fad quickly popped up to leave barrels as tokens of admiration for one’s friends.Nearly a year has passed, but, especially with the advent of a new summer, the tradition continues at times. A smile never fails to show on this driver’s face when she thinks of the crime committed and the unexpected trend it began
And here is my personal favorite, which I entitled "The Green House":
In a twisting, confusing suburban neighbourhood, children play. Two nine-year-old girls ride sparkly princess bikes past a green colonial. Across the street a group of six-to-eight year old boys play with trucks of a vivid yellow hue. In the backyard next door, a four-year-old struggles to push herself on a swing. But outside the green house with the white garage, there is the most laughter heard. Outside the green house are five seventeen-year-olds, playing a childish game of SPUD.
The other kids in the neighbourhood had to ride their bikes to each other’s houses- but outside the green house sit four cars, glinting in the afternoon sun. Other kids on the street fight over who will play with each toy; but outside the green house, five teenagers work together without dispute. In grassy yards, children struggle to learn concepts and skills- but in the yard of the green house, five athletes use talents they have so long developed- in soccer, softball, track, volleyball, and football- to turn a childhood game into a true sport.
In the awkward years between childhood and the coming-of-age into adulthood, it is good to know that not all kids hurry to grow up. It’s good to know that entertainment is not confined to being ‘plugged in’- that fun is not limited to iPods, videogames, and AIM.
The cliché, ‘growing up doesn’t have to mean growing old’ is entirely true. Each of the seventeen-year-olds in front of that green house enjoyed the hot summer sun on their sunburnt skin, each laughed when they dodged the dirty white volleyball, and each was focused solely and intently on the game- a break from the drama of everyday teenage reality. This doesn’t mean these young adults haven’t grown up at all. On the contrary- obligations such as the SATs, ACTs, and college essays cross their mind frequently. Family tragedies have passed through their lives from time to time, teaching them strength and courage. The necessity of responsibility hovers closer and closer, a reminder of their journey into adulthood.
This game represents the last months of being children. Soon they will turn eighteen, and the government will see them as adults. Soon the will graduate, and the school will see them as adults. Soon they will go to university, and their peers will see them ad adults.
But for a few months, they can still be children. They can still spell SPUD and toss a Frisbee and watch cartoons and run in a game of tag. Perhaps at age eighteen or nineteen they can do these things. But these are the fleeting moments of dependency, the last times you will ever be together as children, instead of being together as adults, thinking of the past. These are the ‘olden days’ you will speak about years and years from now- olden days acted out in the muddy lawn in front of the green house of your best friend. These are the memories that last a lifetime.
Yes, yes, well those are all very well and such, but I believe I have two more to write. WEll, perhaps only one more for the evening... maybe just none at all?
Shit, I've run out of inspiration!