Farewell Nonfiction Writing

Loyal readers, I write this with a heavy heart. I have really enjoyed the blogging aspect of Nonfiction Writing this year, and will kind of miss being able to express myself this way. Maybe I will even make a new blog sometimes later in life. Anyways, I'm glad I had the opportunity to be exposed to blogging, since I am fairly certain that I would not have ever tried it had I not taken this class.
In addition to being a medium through which I could express myself, the blog part of Nonfiction writing allowed me to see a different side of many of my classmates, which I really enjoyed. I feel like after reading their blogs, I understand my peers better and can potentially build better relationships with many of them.
The commenting aspect of blogging also intrigues me. I liked hearing feedback on my posts, and it was nice to have my teacher comment not to correct errors in my writing, but to share her own anecdotes and opinions on the topic of my post. This allowed me to view her and the rest of my class as more similar to me than I had previously thought.
What was perhaps my favorite part of blogging is how it introduced to me a different form of writing from any that I had previously experimented with. While still informative and under the category of "personal essay" in most cases, blogs are a much more casual form of writing than most other writing styles I have to use in school. My blog has allowed me to find a voice I like, and I don't have to always worry about being politically correct.
So yeah, the blog part of this class has been one of my favorite assignments this year (in any class!), and I think it should continue to be a part of Nonfiction Writing.

A Tale of Raze

There was once a young man who went to school in a big stone school, which was known as Ewe Knee High School. Ewe Knee was thought of as a place for smart boys and girls. This young man, who we will call “Raze,” was in his fourth year at Ewe Knee, so he had one year left. He had a great “One-who -likes-to-teach-kids-to-write-well”, and she had her class write blog posts twice a month. Raze liked to write these blogs, and would write blog posts on things that he loved. These were things like “his” cars, food, sleep, and a fun sport that has a ball and hoop. When he had run out of things that he loved, Raze wrote a blog on prom. That post was a wee bit mean, and when he got back from prom, his thoughts on the dance were not the same as they had been. He thought that prom was not that bad at all. This was the first time Raze had been wrong in his life. The fact that he had been wrong was, in fact, so new to Raze that he got sick due to shock. Raze slept all day for two days. He would wake up to eat and ball, but the rest of the time he was in bed.
When he woke up, Raze was a new man. He had had a brush with death, and did not want to have more. He set out to do good in the world. He had heard that in a far off place there was a girl who had been born to a queen. She had no peers when it came to looks, and to talk with her brought great joy to all. Her life had been a sad one, though, for when she was ten years old a bad guy took her from her home and held her deep in a cave at the top of Mount Fléau. Raze felt bad for her, and got on a plane to the base of the peak.. Once there, he got past the bad man’s guards with help from his great looks and charm, and went up to the peak of Mount Fléau, where he saw the girl’s face for the first time. It was love at first sight for Raze, and he knew then that he had to free her or die at the bad guy’s hands. The man, whose name will not be shared, looked at Raze with hate in his eyes. He rose from his seat and went to the girl, who was tied up next to the wall. He put a knife to her throat and told Raze that if he did not leave in the count of ten, she would die. The girl, who was known to her people as “Belle Ay” had fear in her eyes, but when she looked at Raze he saw that she would not give up hope. Raze knew that the sole way to save her was to fight the man to the death. The bad guy had two guns and Raze had just his bare hands, but that would not stop him. He told the man that the way to get rid of him was to kill him then, since he would not give up as long as he lived. The man saw this to be true, so he let go on Belle Ay and moved to kill Raze. As soon as he was out of range to kill the girl, Raze struck with the force of the sea and the speed of the verse done by B. Rhymes in “Look at me now.” The man had no chance. Though he had guns and had more than ten pounds on Raze, Raze had true love on his side, a force matched by none but life its self. He won the brief fight, and ran to Belle Ay to free her. They came down from Mount Fléau and were met by cheers from all the men and girls in the world, who saw how great love was and made world peace. Raze and Belle Ay were made king and queen of the new world, and they all lived in bliss for the rest of their lives.

An exception

I know I usually write about something I love, but this time I'm gonna change things up a little. Since prom is this weekend, and I am beginning to have trouble thinking of things I love, I'll share a few of my thoughts on prom.
Thought Numero Uno-- Dress Codes Suck. One of the things that makes prom so special is that it is an excuse for girls to buy super expensive dresses. Being a guy, I don't really see the joy in this (unless your mom is paying) so I won't try to. However, the guys are also expected to get fancy. Winter Formal is fine-- slacks, nice shoes, and a button up shirt are easy to wear, and I already have them. For prom, however, I am expected to wear a tux, or at least a suit. That's about $100! Basically, I feel obligated to pay for something I really don't care about in the first place. If I had my way, proper attire would mean swimtrunks and flip flops.
Thought Numero Dos-- Traditions Suck. Yeah, I don't have a very positive view of prom yet. Not only am I spending money on a tux I don't even care about, I also have to buy a corsage for my date! Ok, the corsage isn't really a big deal actually, but the point is that there are way too many traditions surrounding prom. While many people see this as a good thing, I really dislike it. My mom has been on my case for the last 2 weeks about matching, getting a corsage, etc. No matter how many times I tell her I couldn't care less, she persists in pressuring me to be "perfect" for prom.
Thought Numero Tres-- Why so long? From start to finish, this year's prom is designed to last 11 hours. Almost half a day. If I can barely survive an 8 hour school day with these people, how am I supposed to be with them for almost 1.5 times that long??? Personally, I don't expect to be there the entire time, but I'm sure my feelings are shared by others, and maybe they don't have a choice of coming late or leaving early.
Thought Numero Quatro--Maybe I'm being overly pessimistic. I realize that prom can't be that bad. I mean, I'm not the first person to feel negatively about this dance, but it remains one of the high points of the school year. I'm sure I'll end up having fun with my friends, but then again, I would also have fun at the Wiz concert if I had chosen not to attend the dance. The dance itself doesn't seem so bad--its mainly the expectations surrounding prom that bug me. I am going, after all, so I must think I'll enjoy myself somewhat.  (Of course, I wasnt planning on attending until I was persuaded by unforseen circumstances.)

For those who are deeply offended by this post, I apologize. I know that most girls (and even some guys) love the chance to show off at prom, and see positives in the exact same things that I dislike about the big dance. Hopefully, I will change my mind after Saturday. We'll see.

This last week has brought with it what is arguably the best weather we've had in 2011. Around 70 degrees, not very humid, and--of course-- longer days. Theres nothing quite like the feeling of freedom one feels as winter finally gives way to spring. Finally, I can go for runs painlessly. Finally, I can go play pickup basketball around the neighborhood. Finally, I can go play football or baseball at the park. After 4 months of only tv, computers, and video games for entertainment, I couldn't wait to go frolic in the sun when I looked outside today. I regret to say that I did spend a couple of hours playing Brawl inside, but for the most part, I have spent the entire weekend outside. 7 or so hours of basketball, an hour of running, and 4 more of  roaming aimlessly around  the park have left me very content, if a bit exhausted.
 While on my nightly runs, I was reminded of the good ol days when I was an innocent youngster of about 11 years, playing carelessly in the street outside my house. After a touch of nostalgia, I decided to play some basketball with by brothers friends, who happen to have an average height of about 5 foot. This made me feel like I was young(er) again, except able to be meaner to my brother (basically the best of both worlds).
The good weather also allows me to have increased independence from my parents. I can run/walk/bike/scooter/drive anywhere and hang out with people I can't be with as much in the cold months. Soon I'll be able to see more friends at UHS, since we can meet up at parks and such.
Of course, the weather isn't perfect quite yet. As I drove down Kirby today, I looked over at Sholem and felt  a twinge of longing to go swimming, Unfortunately, Sholem doesn't open for a month or something, so I'm stuck with the Indoor Pool, water fights, and baths. Another thing about the weather that disappointed me today was the rediscovery of grass stains. I guess I forgot about them over winter, but my butt and those lovely green marks were reunited today, much to my dismay.
Oh well, at least the good outnumbers the bad when it comes to spring!

picture me rollin

Around this time last year, I was introduced to something completely new for me: driving. Well, not completely new, but I had never driven on an actual street until I got my permit last March. At first, I was scared to death of  driving-- the first time I ever went on a major street, I was afraid to pass parked cars. It didn't help that the second time I went driving on real roads, the car next to me got pulled over for speeding. However, I persevered, and soon I was handling my parents' 2006 Sienna like a pro.
However, cruisin' around in a minivan all the time got boring, embarrassing, and above all, REALLY REALLY ANNOYING. I hated having such a bulky car as my only ride. It was hard to park, hard to see around, and I couldn't take fast corners in it. (Of course, I couldn't take fast corners if my mom was with me anyways, but thats beside the point). After about 2 months of putting up with the minivan, I finally decided to try to learn how to drive stick.
My other car (a 1995 Corolla) wasn't much better appearance wise--it's a station-wagon with one hubcap left, and numerous scratches from over the years, but it did have something new and intriguing: a manual transmission. After delaying for a week, my dad finally gave in to my pressure, and agreed to take me driving in the Corolla. I was impatient to get to the actually driving, so I vetoed his idea of starting in the VetMed parking lot and Business Park, where I first started driving the automatic. Instead, we just drove around my neighborhood for about an hour. OK, let me back up a little. We TRIED to drive around the neighborhood. What I mean by that is we would drive a block, stay still at a stop sign for 5 minutes as I repeatedly stalled the car until some benevolent gust of wind guided my feet as they worked the gas and clutch, and proceed to do the same thing over again. And again, And again. This continued for a week or so, until my dad revealed the age old secret to driving stick: "Be one with the car." I think he was probably joking when he said this, or else really desperate, but it actually seemed to work. I was so impressed by this "karate kid-esque" saying that i actually focused to being one with the car. I tried to judge when to release the clutch by feeling the vibrations of the car underneath me, instead of looking at the tachometer religiously. Soon I was confident enough to go out and about in the stick shift, all the while increasing my oneness with the car.
Now, I rarely drive the Sienna. Whenever I have a choice, I choose to drive the smaller car. I even chose to take my driver's test in it, which no doubt helped impress my tester lady. Since many of my friends have had their license for a while, the ability to do something many of them can't allows me to retaliate when they make fun of my youth. The thrill of masterfully maneuvering the Corolla around town gives me a certain satisfaction that cannot be reached by driving a car with automatic transmission, simply because it actually requires a small amount of skill to drive stick.
If you haven't learned to drive stick, I encourage you to learn, or at least consider it. Even of you don't have a license, even if you still have "student driver" stickers all over your car. It's a great skill to possess, and knowing how to drive stick could prove necessary at points in life, whether you're on vacation in Europe or driving Maseratis through Miami, as I plan on doing in about 10 years.

ballin out on every level

When I’m not sleeping or eating, I’m playing basketball. At school, at the gym, or in a driveway. With a group of friends, with one other person, or by myself. It doesn’t really matter the circumstances, as long as there’s a ball, a hoop, and me. I’m on the school team, but basketball season isn’t when I have the most fun playing. Don’t get me wrong, I love playing on the team. I just enjoy playing pickup ball more.

For one thing, there are so many ways you can play when you aren’t limited by official IHSA rules. Playing without cheap fouls makes the game much more fluid, which improves my playing experience. Playing streetball is also preferable to organized ball because one can play with any number of people. With even numbers, you can play 2 on 2, 3 on 3, etc. With an odd number of people, you can play 21 or 32.   

                Streetball is also much more relaxed than organized basketball. By relaxed, I don’t mean people are calm all the time. On the contrary, almost every game I play involves some shouting and pushing. (Actually, when tempers flare, I probably enjoy the game even more). What I mean by relaxed is that people aren’t limited to doing what coaches want them to do. When I play during free periods, I often test out new moves I’ve been working on, and throw up trick shots that I wouldn’t dare to try in a real game.

                Unorganized basketball is also very entertaining, due to the amount of trash talk. Talking shit about other people is something I love to do while playing with them, and nothing is off limits during a heated game.  I enjoy being loud, and basketball with friends gives me a perfect excuse to shout as much as I want to.

                One of my favorite things is when I make someone mad at me, just by beating them in basketball. It amuses me to cross them so bad that they start pushing me, or hit a 3 in their eye so they start swearing at me. Of course, laughing doesn’t really help, but conflict sometimes makes the game more interesting for me. And that pretty much sums up why I prefer streetball to school sponsored basketball-- it’s more interesting.

               

Yummy in ma tummy

I guess since my first post was about my first love (sleep), it is only fitting that this week I write about anothing I am passionate about: eating. I don't eat as much as some people, or as healthfully and others, but I do love eating as much as ANYONE! I suppose the main reason I love eating so much is because one can eat pretty much whenever they want to. Personally, I'm a nonstop snacker. After dinner, I take about 5 minutes off, and then its back to the kitchen. Cookies, cereal, apples, corn, and various breads are some favorites, but I'm open to almost every snack food out there (except those with peanuts). I top off my snack with a glass of orange juice, resulting in about a half-container of OJ consumed every night.. minimum. I also finish off a little over half a box of cereal (more if my mom doesn't notice) and a half dozen friuts and veggies.
Often, I will snack because I'm hungry. Perhaps I didn't like dinner, maybe I skipped lunch that day. In these cases, I'll eat more filling foods-- leftover spaghetti, homemade burritos, etc. However, usually I eat out of boredom. These cases involve me getting tired of sitting doing homework, so i get up to move around. As if by a magnet, I am drawn to the fridge. There, I'll generally open the door, close it again, open it again and begin searching its depths for something to occupy me. The fridge, sadly, rarely satisfies me, so I find it necessary to continue my quest for food elsewhere. The bread area next to the fridge usually allows me to quench my thirst for chips, but I still feel like something's missing... CEREAL!!!! Many moons ago, I discovered just how perfect cereal is in these situations-- somewhat filling, time consuming, and DELICIOUS. I journey around the counter to the cereal cabinet, and pull out a box. My personal favorites include Honeycombs, Fruity Pebbles, and Honey Bunches of Oats (including chocolate, of course).
Unfortunately, my diabolical cereal-hating mother recently started cracking down on my cereal consumption. "Only one bowl per night", she says, "Only healthy cereals allowed in the house!" Of course, the one-bowl-a-night rule is absurd; I don't even honor it by thinking about it as I begin my fifth bowl in 10 minutes. The "healthy rule", however, I have much less control over. Since I rarely do the shopping for the family, I am at my dad's mercy when it comes to snack food. So far, he has obeyed my mom's command regarding cereals. I can only hope that someday he will come to his senses and realize the true greatness of cereal. Until then, I can only reminisce about the good ol' days when anything went in my house... and eat.