Eng-001; Language and Writing

SOUNDTRACK OF MY LIFE!!! :-)

2007-12-12T13:40:00.000-06:00

Lynyrd Skynyrd, “Sweet Home Alabama”: Whenever I think of my childhood, I my mind wanders back to my Kindergarten through 2nd grade years in good ol’ ‘Bama. It really was “home sweet home” to me. Folks were always nice there; everyone was friendly and polite. The skies really were so blue, all the time. It was pretty much warm all year round. One winter night, I remember sitting in the van with my family, minus my mom who was in the mall speed shopping for something or another. I was trying to convince my dad that I had NOT made up this song that I thought was called “My Old Friend,” but I hadn’t heard it in a long time, and trying to sing it and make him recognize it. I don’t think it worked. “Here let’s see if maybe it’s on the radio.” The speakers in the car crackled as dad flipped through the stations; I knew it wouldn’t be on there. One of my sisters suddenly shouted, “Look!” to distract us from our search. Dad and I looked and gasped in surprise. It was a miracle! It couldn’t be! …It was snowing. As my sisters and I gazed, mesmerized, at the falling flakes, my mom came running quickly through the parking lot, hurrying to make it into the warmth of the van. She opened the door, rosy-cheeked and out of breath, the smile on her face mirroring the ones on ours. It snowed roughly 1 millimeter that night. Naturally, school was cancelled the next day on account of the hazardous weather conditions. Well, the hallways of Robinson Springs School were outdoors. This is how it was in the “Southland,” where it was “yes ma’am, no ma’am, yes sir, no sir” or else you got a whoopin’. Many of my friends and golden childhood memories were created down there, and I’d never trade those days for nothin’, no sir. ;)

Carrie Underwood, “Jesus, Take the Wheel”: I love this song and feel like it really speaks to my life because of its double meaning. For anyone who has not been in a car accident, they have no idea how terrifying it is. I was in my first car wreck when I was really young, probably five to six years old. I was sitting in the passenger seat of the car, with my mom driving. For my height, I should not have been out of a some kind of child’s car seat yet, but children under 12 are not suppose to ride up front anyway, and for good reason. The crash came suddenly. One minute we were driving along, fine as can be, the next, I was thrown forward. The airbag that was meant to hit an adult in the chest hit me square in the face. The force of the blow hurt, and the powder stung my eyes. I was crying pretty hard. My mom was unharmed, but the older woman driving the other car was hurt pretty badly. We got out of the car, and a cop informed my mom that she had run a red light. My mom was horrified; she had no idea. I remember throwing up in the back of the cop’s car where I was sitting and recuperating. When I finally went back to my kindergarten class with scraps and cuts on my face, my teacher asked if I was comfortable with explaining to everyone what had happened. I said I was. I stood there, in front of the class with my mom to explain why I had been missing. Very seriously and solemnly, I told my classmates that I had been in a car crash. Every little eye and mouth in the room grew big with sympathy and every little head nodded with understanding. For all my solemnity back then, I didn’t realize how serious it had been. I could have easily been blinded or died. In this beautiful song by Carrie Underwood, it takes something as scary as a nearly deadly car crash to make the woman throw up her hands and let God take control. Nearly as long ago as that car accident, I became a Christian, and since then I’ve had some “car crashes” in my life. Sometimes that’s what it takes to remind me that I can’t always do it on my own. If I give the wheel to Jesus, I am putting my life into much more capable hands then my own, ones that will drive me down the right road and will never let me crash. That is something that I’m still learning to do as my life goes on. I can’t imagine getting threw the tough times without my faith. I strongly believe that God had a hand to play in that crash so long ago when I was young; He protected me. I know I’m here for a reason. And I know that sometimes things are out of my hands, and I just need to sit in the passenger seat. I don’t mind; I’m a lousy driver anyway. :-)

Vitamin C, “Friends Forever”: Friends Forever really captures the bittersweet flavor of life. It’s not just a song about graduation. It is a song about how life moves and changes and won’t stop for anything. It’s a song about saying goodbye. It’s a song about letting go, and it’s a song about holding on. Moving sucks. The first time that I had to move (and was old enough to be aware of moving) was when I had to leave Alabama to come to Nebraska. I was in second grade and heart-broken. Everything I knew was in Alabama, and I didn’t want to leave. My second grade teacher, Mrs. Davis, was a slightly plump, African-American woman with a heart of gold. My last day of school, she dedicated entirely to saying goodbye to me. We watched “Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day” in place of science and in honor of the day. Everyone in the class created good-bye letters and cards for me instead of writing class. But the thing that most stands out in my memory was, when I came back into the classroom after delivering a note to the office for Mrs. Davis. She had gotten all of my classmates to stand in a group together while I was gone. And when I opened the door, they all burst into rhyme, reciting from our class’s favorite book, “I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always. As long as I’m living, my friend you’ll be.” It was a great happy day in my little life, but at the end of it, my parents picked me up and I looked at RSS for the last time, never to see it or its inhabitants again. Change is hard. I had to go through a similar ordeal when I moved from Elkhorn to Valley in sixth grade and then again when I moved back to Elkhorn in seventh grade. All through high school I had to learn to say goodbye to friends who were older than me, as they graduated. Each year it got harder, until finally, it was my turn. But like the song says, those times and those places never really die. Even Alabama lives in my memories. And although most of my “friends” back then probably don’t remember me, and I know I don’t remember all of them, there are some who will “still be friends forever,” even if our paths never cross again.

Faith Hill, “Wild One”: Ah, the teenage years! J It seems that every child gets along perfectly with their parents until their 13th birthday. And then, once they turn 20, everything is cool again. That’s how it was with me. When I became a teenager, all the way through my senior year in high school, I had so many fights with my mom that I can’t even count them. I never did drugs or alcohol, and I never did really naughty things with boys, but I was still a “wild one” in my mother’s eyes. I think these are the years when you stop taking every word out of your parents’ mouths as the law of the world, and you start questioning things for yourself. “Because I said so” is not a good enough reason anymore. You begin to think and reason. My response to above reason was always, “But WHY?” I began to voice my own, still developing opinion when the wiser course that wouldn’t lead to grounding would’ve been to keep my mouth shut, but I just couldn’t. I had to be heard, even if it got my nowhere. My dad would sometimes take my side or at least understand me, which is why I love the line in the song about her dad (I was always daddy’s little girl), but “the battle lines were clearly drawn” with my mom. I was never so destructive as the young girl in the video. I did beat a pillow quite a few times, but no feathers came flying out, and I never would have destroyed the sanctuary of my room. I started listening to rap, which Satan actually prefers even to rock and roll. My parents didn’t want me dating anyone until I was sixteen; this became I problem when I got a boyfriend at the age of fourteen. I also loved escaping to the roof. I was a “wild one, running free!”

Usher and Alicia Keys, “My Boo”: Just the same old boring brick building that I went into everyday when I was in elementary school; when I was in 8th grade, I came back on a Wednesday night, entering through the back door closest to the gym. I didn’t want to go to AWANA (a church youth group). I hadn’t liked it much last year. What would make this year any different? But it was my final year to be in it, so why not give it a shot? He wasn’t supposed to be there. Only a year older than me, a freshman in high school, he should have been up at the actual church, helping much younger kids. That’s why we say it was fate; for some reason I went when I really didn’t want to, and for some reason he was put where he wasn’t supposed to be. For a while, Josh was just the really cute, older guy that checked off our bible verses for us, and that my friend, Sarah, and I could only dream about dating. Then on my birthday he wrote me a very corny piece of poetry. It definitely wasn’t Senghor, but I thought it was amazing. Then, being the dork I was, the following week, when I handed him my notebook, instead of reciting the verse, I recited his poem in its entirety, from memory. And something about that blew him away. Long story short, we started dating. We went through many rough spots, but both of us knew that this person was different somehow, was worth anything and everything. And we were right; we dated for over four years. Josh was my high school sweetheart, but he was and is so much more than that. We grew up together; we changed each other forever and for good. We aren’t together anymore, and that has been one of the hardest things in my life. But had I known back then how it all would go, I would do it all over, exactly the same. “There’s always that one person that will always have your heart.” They say that you never truly get over your first love, and I believe that’s true. You move on, yes, but there’s always some little part of you that will always be in love with that person, because true love doesn’t die. And it’s not really sad; it’s wonderful. I couldn’t ask for a better friend then the one I have in him now, and I know he’ll always be there for me, as I will for him, because we’ve shared something timeless and true.

Bosson, “One in a Million”: Friday night lights, probably the brightest ever, glaring down like search lights from an army of helicopters, the chill of the autumn night, hundreds of people in the stands watching as I stand, front and center, on the 50 yard line, smiling up to the press box, alone. The glitter on my face and costume dances wildly in the light and my hands tightly grip my flag, pointed down at an angle to the ground. The drum majors blow their whistles to call for a halt… and it is silent. Nothing beats this moment. The music begins, and so do I, spinning my flag around my body, as the rest of the Color Guard line marches in my direction, flags held still. Then there’s a huge crescendo and the music takes off as 11 flags joined mine, tossed into the sky together with a great ‘whoosh!’ Although this was slightly nerve-racking at first, I felt like “one in a million,” and by the night of my last performance, I did not have a single twinge of fear in my body. I surged with confidence and excitement. Being guard captain, and having the opportunity to perform and to do what I love was a “once in a lifetime” experience that I will never forget.

Julie Zenatti et Patrick Fiori, “La Belle et La Bête”: « Il était une fois, » une fille qui a découvert qu’elle adorait tellement les langues, mais surtout le français. Elle est tombée amoureuse de cette langue. D’apprendre une langue étrangère a changé ma vie. Je suis étudiante pendante quartes années au lycée, et maintenant, c’est ma spécialité à l’université. J’ai un vrai talent en ce qui concerne les langues, et je voudrais utiliser ce talent pour mon travail futur, ma joie, et peut-être pour changer un peu le monde, pour mieux. J’ai choisi cette chanson parce qu’il est de Disney, et j’adore Disney. Je l’adorais quand j’étais petite et maintenant je l’adore encore. Je suis une enfant au cœur. Je croirais dans la magie pour toujours. Mais, aussi, La Belle et La Bête en particulier a de la signification. C’est le film que je voyais avec mon père quand j’étais une enfant. C’est vraiment une « conte de l’enfance » pour moi, même si les langues restaient une « conte de toujours » pour moi, dans ma vie.

*** “Once upon a time,” there was a girl who discovered that she so adored languages, but most of all, French. She fell in love with that language. Learning a foreign language has changed my life. I studied French for four years in high school, and now, it is my major in college. I have a real talent for languages, and I want to use that talent for my future job, happiness, and maybe even to change the world a little, for the better. I chose this song because it is Disney, and I love Disney. I’ve loved it since I was little, and I love it still. I’m a child at heart. I’ll believe in magic forever. But, also, Beauty and the Beast in particular has significance. It’s the movie that I watched with my dad when I was a child. It really is a “story of childhood” for me, just as languages will remain for me “a story of all time”, in my life.

Reminiscing

2007-11-18T20:25:00.000-06:00

My first ever CD was Enrique Iglasias; that I remember perfectly. What was my first music video? On that I'm not so sure. But thinking back, Bring Me To Life by Evanescence comes to mind. This was probably not the very FIRST music video I ever saw; I might have seen some country music videos before this one, but this one sticks out in my memory because it was the first "cool" music video I ever watched.

I remember being introduced to Evanescence, first through the radio and then by a friend, who burnt their Fallen CD for me to listen to. Bring Me To Life was their biggest hit. It was the song of theirs that I always heard playing on the radio.

One day, when my mom was out of the house, I turned on one of the MTV channels (MTV was "bad" and therefore banned from our house, although with satelite TV, we still had the channel). They were playing music videos and I remember hearing those first few piano notes, thinking "no way!" and being really excited. I thought the video was SO cool. I loved the opening with the cityscape and the story that switched from the lady falling to sleeping. The video got really exciting when the guy opened the window and a gust of wind blew her of. She held on to the ledge and the guy came out and attempted to pull her back, and although he got close, he failed and she slipped out of his fingers. Then the video ends where it began: is she falling or only sleeping? I loved it; it was awesome. And I kept wishing that it would come on again so that I could show it to my little sisters.

Now, I've seen a lot of music videos. I still think this one is pretty neat. But it doesn't completely amaze me the way it did back then. The part when he is trying to help her up seems especially rediculous. He should have been able to do it; the struggle just looks fake. Furthermore, she appears to be actually pulling away from him instead of trying to aide him in saving her life.

The Worst Music Video Ever

2007-11-14T23:56:00.000-06:00

Wow... Well, enough said? The video I was going to pick for this honorable title might have offended, so the one will definitely work instead. Hopefully no one in the class is from Finland. The song is called "I Wanna Love You Tender." The artists are Armi and Danny, a couple of Finnish singers.

I hate this video probably because it is agony to watch. It makes me ask questions like, "Why?" and "What is the point?!?" and definitely not in a good, mysterious way, either. The video appears to be really old, so it deserves a little bit of slack, but this one really takes the cake and abuses the privilege.

First of all, the dancers look ridiculous from the start. They are barely in sync with one another. And the actions (can you call them dance moves?) that they are doing aren't that appealing to the eye anyways.

Secondly, the two main singers show no emotion in their faces what-so-ever. I am reminded strongly of robots, stuck in the same ridiculous smile for no reason. The man is especially guilty of this. He just stands there, grinning stupidly, as he sings some lyrics that shouldn't be smiled at.

Thirdly, the whole "fake space / disco dance floor" scene just doesn't work. Like every other aspect, it does not fit the song. It comes across as tacky, alongside the costumes and the song itself, actually. That foundation of a really good song isn't even there, so it's hard to build off of that.

Overall, the music video is just pointless. Nothing done in it makes any sense or serves any purpose. I believe a music video should enhance the music in some way, by added the visual element. However, I would have loved this song much more tenderly, I think, had I just heard the lyrics without being put throught the misery of watching it.

My Top Four Music Videos

2007-11-14T22:36:00.000-06:00

Well, I didn't get this assignment posted in time, so I will not get a grade for it anyways, so I figured I'd still write for the experience, but do it slightly differently. So... I was debating between 4 different music videos for the best one. I kind-of decided on one, but then I thought, I don't want to deprive anyone of the chance to see some amazing music videos, so I'm putting all four of them on here!!! :) So, what makes a good music video to me? Well, you gotta start out with a good song- you can't go anywhere without that foundation. From there, I think the best music videos tell a story. Those are the ones that I want to sit through and watch, anyway, as well as share with others.

The first one is "Whiskey Lullaby," sung by Brad Paisley and Allison Krauss. It gets fourth place on my little mini-countdown because, first of all, it's a great song with a music video that tells a great story. It also has a wonderful ending. One could argue that this video is the best of all four, hec, I could even argue that! But I guess the reason why I put it last is probably because it's really sad, kind-of depressing, and normally I'd like a music video to make me happy. (Although, in defense of that, this video does have an interesting and hopeful ending)

This next one is "8th World Wonder," sung by Kimberley Locke. The joyful nature of this song puts it ahead in third place. Also in contrast to "Whiskey Lullaby," Kimberley herself is in the story of her music video, and I love that aspect of it. This video's defining feature is the way it is put together in reverse chronilogical order, going backwards through the week- it's awesome. Because of that, it holds your attention all the way through. Locke isn't as well-known as the upcoming artists, but she is mostly known for this hit.

"Objection Tango," sung by Shakira is number two in my countdown. This video is upbeat, tells a story, and the artist again participates in more than just the singing. But, to add to the appeal of this music video, there's dancing!, and not just any dancing, but partner dancing!, AND not just any partner dancing, but the tango!!! :) It's a blast, and I would love to learn it! Besides the tango, Shakira dances on her own, of course. This video also incorporates a very cool special feature when it slips into animation to show how Shakira imagines the scene going and then slips back out to show reality. This video is also really funny, while the previous two were pretty much devoid of that humor. Shakira is my hero; she rocks. :)

And finally, the moment you've all been waiting for (or maybe not, I don't know who all will bother to read and watch all of this, but I've kinda always wanted to write that sentance)!!!!! The number one spot goes to..... "She's No You," by Jesse McCartney! (Sorry to those of you who are disappointed- lol.) My reasoning for this: first of all, as before, great song, great artist, tells a story, Jesse himself is the main character, and it leaves you with a happy feeling. What makes this song worthy of the number one spot? The story line is easy to follow unlike a lot of music videos that quickly flash pictures and/or are just hard to follow with a weird plot. This video is also in black and white, which adds to the simplicity and, I think, works beautifully for this particular video- it was a good choice. Also, Jesse is beautiful. Simple as that. ;)

Well, there you have it: my FOUR favorite music videos. For my hyperlinks, I decided to connect you directly to the lyrics as well as another good song by the artist. I'd also like to say, these are just the ones that I could think of. I'm sure someone could show me a video tomorrow that could become my new favorite. That's the way it is with these things. Anyways, I had a lot of fun writing this. Hopefully someone out there had fun reading it, or at least got to procrastinate on some homework a little bit longer, aka: (in the words of our beloved English professor) do something stupid. :) Ya know? Waste some time; watch the videos! Why not? Ciao.

...Talking about Talk Talk

2007-11-11T22:53:00.000-06:00

Talk Talk - Click here for another funny movie.

Communication: it is probably the most necessary thing on earth. No matter what one chooses to do in life, one will always have to communicate with others around oneself. To survive and to get anywhere in this life, we all need to understand each other and have ways of communicating. Just like everyone needs to eat, everyone needs to communicate. This commercial about “Talk Talk” plays off of that basic human need, like a lot of commercials do. If they talk about something that people need, they can twist it into saying that in order to do that better their particular product is necessary. It is a great persuasion technique. Talk Talk employs this method as well as using the rhetorical appeals to create a gripping and memorable commercial.

Talk Talk presents a better way of communicating. It tells the audience in the commercial that, “whoever you are, every call you make to each person on your land line is free, forever.” That is a pretty good offer. The commercial does not say anything about a catch, for example, how much you have to pay in order to be a part of Talk Talk. But the interesting thing about that is that as a normal viewer, you do not think anything of that. All that was going through my head the first time I watched it was, “wow, these people are amazing.”

This is the commercial’s best aspect: the amazing visuals in provides. As stated in Envision, “in our visually saturated world” making a point through the pictures one presents in an argument is of the utmost importance. Our eyes act and process faster than our ears. The proof of this is everywhere around us. 90% of what we say is our body language and not the actual words we speak. When an actor moves on stage the movement is noticed above any speaking part (which is why actors generally stand still when delivering a line). If someone says that they are fine, but their face is full of sorrow, which do we tend to believe?
That being said, the Talk Talk commercial is very well done because it catches your eye and forces you to pause and pay attention; it’s just that fascinating. The visual is also very subtle so that you don’t even realize that you are being persuaded, but instead you are caught up in the enjoyment of the pictures created by the people in the commercial.

Talk Talk uses many people who come together to create something bigger. They make moving pictures to match everything the speaker is saying. The crowd of people wearing pink and red shirts forms a heart while others in gray and black come together to create an arrow that pierces it, and afterwards, the people in pink and red regroup to form two little hearts. All this happens as the speaker says, “People in love.” The people then work together to form a boy and girl holding hands and waving to represent “good friends,” a buggy that rolls along to represent “new moms,” and two kids tossing a ball back and forth to demonstrate “families.” This is a great appeal to pathos because it speaks to all different people, and we each can relate to one of those things.

On a smaller level, they could have just shown us, for example, a normal picture of a buggy. That they chose not to do this was very powerful. Instead, the people in the commercial work together to create one. This is essentially the entire point of the commercial: people together. It is people working together, people communicating together. When you watch the commercial closer, for a second or third time, you start to look at not just the big picture, but also each individual person. How do the girls who make up the “ball” that the kids play with stay on the right track? They must get dizzy. And it’s really neat how the talking mouth is created with the two people holding hands and swinging their arms. And, the people who form the buttons of the phone are really cute! A fascinating commercial such as this one, in which there is always something to look at, is really affective.

The dialogue fits perfectly with the pictures, as well as the simple and relaxed yet upbeat music. In contrast to the complex pictures created, the spoken message is short, sweet and to the point. A few short phrases serve as examples. The following single sentence answers the question, “why do I need this product?” And then the narrator finishes the commercial by giving us the name, Talk Talk, and reciting the slogan, “Let’s do it together.” This sums it up beautifully, with a name and a slogan that will stick in your head. Furthermore, the entire commercial has already showed us “Let’s do it together.” The words in this case act as a confirmation of the pictures, and example of logos at work.

Another way the commercial uses logos is its casual if-then argument. If you join Talk Talk here’s what will happen: you’ll be connected to people, and you’ll be able to call all the people that you need to call and care about for free, forever. The data they are presenting could be skewed in some way, however. Because of the simplicity of the commercial, it doesn’t tell you everything. There’s a cost, of course, and there’s probably a limit as to whom you can talk to for free when you join, and they probably have to have Talk Talk as well, which would make it more complicated. But why get into all that? The point of the commercial is to hook and keep the audience’s attention and to make a strong impression. And the commercial definitely accomplishes its goals.

As stated earlier, pathos also really works in this argument. The commercial establishes an immediate, intimate connection with the audience. The audience is greeted with images of everyday people, just like you and I, forming bigger pictures, also of everyday people. So, the commercial connects with the audience on both the levels. On the one level, the watcher will think, “wow, what they are doing is so cool!” and will imagine themselves as a part of it, which is the goal of the commercial, to create a unified, cooperative way of thinking. On the second level, which the person watching might not even be aware of, they will understand that this commercial is speaking directly to them, because while the majority of the people watching the commercial are not new moms, most are good friends, family members, and/or lovers. Therefore, realized or not, viewers begin to think, “That’s me. This could be good for me, too.”

Although much more difficult to find and analyze, the Talk Talk commercial actually employs ethos along with the other two forms of rhetorical appeals. Sometimes in the use of ethos an image is sold rather than a product. I believe that is what’s happening here. The commercial does not inform the viewer as to how they can become a part of this Talk Talk. It doesn’t even give them a number to call to find out more information. What it does do is plant images in your head that you will remember for a long time. I won’t soon forget the people coming together to form the simple words, “Talk Talk.” Nor will I forget the catchy slogan, another way the makers of this commercial use ethos. “Let’s do it together” is a very appealing phrase that a viewer will remember.

So, what the people of Talk Talk do so cleverly through the ethos, as well as logos, pathos and the other aspects of argumentation and appeal, is sell their companies reputation, and they do it very well. This short, catchy, and very unique commercial is something that anyone who watches it will not soon forget.

Reactions to: Healthier School Lunches

2007-10-21T21:14:00.000-05:00

I read an article entitled, "Study: School Lunches Healthier" by Kevin Abourezk, published in the Lincoln Journal Star yesterday, October 20th. I really don't think the title was fitting for this article. It commenced with talking about a boy named Josh Hesson who, as an eighth-grader, was the leader of a boycott against school lunches for their being "unhealthy." The article goes on to talk statistics and about how school lunches in Lincoln and in all of Nebraska have gotten progressively healthier since then. So, it was all cohesive until it went from there to talk about phyical education within school districts (a logical transition, I'll admit), but then it went to the importance of daily exercize, and finally ended in a discussion on sex education and how schools are stressing abstinence. While all of this information was good and eve interesting, I failed to see the relevance to the topic (or title). I couldn't find the thesis, if you will; nothing seemed to unify the article- it just went from one subject to the next. So, that kind-of bothered me.

However, I did learn a lot. I found it really awesome that an eighth-grade boy and few of his friends could make that kind of a difference. It just goes to show, if you care enough about something, you can really make a change. All of the statistics (like those from the study by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention) they gave to illustrate it were really interesting, too. But, the article only talked about middle schools and high schools. I found myself asking, "Well, what about colleges?" I've heard from many people that Sodexo is not the healthiest choice of food companies. Furthermore, all of my foreign friends think that American food is horrible because all they've had as an example has been the cafeteria. I think it's time someone looked into that...

I also found it fascinating that "about two-thirds of elementary schools provide daily recess." I had always assumed that all elementary schools had to give recess... I couldn't imagine elementary school without it. So, that was pretty shocking.

Observation and Reflection- Composition 1- Yellowed Pages Bookstore

2007-10-07T23:30:00.000-05:00

"A GOOD BOOK is the precious lifeblood of a master spirit, embalmed & treasured up to purpose to a life beyond life"

-John Milton (a sign hanging in the bookstore)

“Please do not let LEO (the cat) escape. Thanks.” The little hand-written sign was the only notable thing that struck me to observe as I stood outside the Yellowed-Pages bookstore. Otherwise, the door was boring, and well, modern, the kind of entrance I’d expect to lead me into any normal, modern-day store, but I’d been here before- I knew better. I sighed, braced myself for a lot of walking and feverish writing, and opened the door.

The little bell jingled to announce my arrival. The familiar smell of old paper and dust greeted my nose. The most notable thing, of course, was the sight of thousands of books stacked on their wooden shelves. Music played from a little, old-as-the-hills radio, that kind of music I’d associate with being popular when my parents were kids; it gave you the uncanny desire to start dancing around in a circle, waving your finger around like an idiot. In its old-fashion, it matched everything else in this most ancient of bookstores.

I decided to head to the front of the store and start from there, so as to be able to walk through, describing it, and maybe make sense of it all. The place was like a labyrinth, it's wall made of books. One could get lost in the maze.

The old man who runs the place greeted me as I walked through. He's a friendly old man with white hair that seems to be yellowing just like the pages in his store, a little trim mustache, and eyes that smile behind square, black-rimmed eyeglasses. I told him that I just wanted to observe his shop for an English paper. He told me not to write about the mess.

I made it to the front door of the store facing out to 48th street that no one ever uses. I walked up to it and looked out. It was weird to think of the outside world rushing by. Time didn’t exist here. Well, maybe it did, within the books: all the time that ever was and wasn’t… I shook my head to clear my thoughts. I had to get started. I turned around to face the store. Directly in front of me were loads of records, everything from Mitch Ryder and Willie Nile to a record entitled "Gypsys, Tramps, & Thieves." Boxes littered the surrounding floor.

To the left was the Children's section, characterized by bright colors, a fun atmosphere, and generally thinner spines. A little chair stood lonely against a shelf, and looked like it would fit only the teeniest of children. To the right, a little piece of printed-paper labeled the section "General Fiction."

In a back corner of this section I plopped down on the floor to write some more. Before I began, I just sat there and looked around me. I felt rather cozy, at home; I knew that I could stay here for hours upon hours and never get bored. I would probably lose all track of time. This bookstore just had that ancient and magical air about it that I had always loved. As I looked around me, I thought about how even if a person tried really hard and dedicated all her time to it, she could never read all these books in a lifetime. It was a rather sad thought.

After I was finished writing, I walked on, turning to the left again, and I came upon a little nook, a closet of a section with a doorway made of bookshelves that you could enter through and move a few feet down to your left or your right in the enclosed area. This section was the Classics. A big, white book entitled The Yale Shakespeare sat on the floor--the biggest volume I've ever seen! And ornate Harvard Classics lined the top shelf on the back wall of the little hidden section.

I walked out of the closet and turned to the right this time where I was greeted with books that had metallic, flowing letters that spelled out titles such as Almost a Lady and Savage Hope. A poster of a cloud and little white birds flying across a blue sky designated the Romance section. Right next to the Romance section, in the center of the room stood plastic shelves holding books of a much more manly kind. Titles like Sword Point and Military Men stared out at me in bold letters.

I pressed on. After Classics Corner came “History Hideaway.” In an identical ‘nook’ to match its neighboring Classics section, all the History books sat up on their shelves, with a yellow and brown poster of the Oregon Trail labeled, “Our Colorful Past,” which sat at the top of it all.

Turning toward the center of the room again, there were rows and rows of very old Life Magazines. I picked one up, and it felt like if I made one abrupt movement the whole thing would fall apart into a million shredded pieces. I set it back down without opening it.

And moving to the right past the magazines was the old man’s desk, which could hardly be seen underneath all the clutter. It was laden with many books and an equally large amount of paperwork. There was just room enough left for his computer monitor and keyboard. Behind the desk and to the left stood a little door to who-knows-where with a cat calendar on it. There were more shelves behind and a wooden rocking chair with faded blue cushions with little pink and white patterns on them. Leo, the old man’s cat, slept soundly curled up in his little cardboard box that fit him perfectly.

Leo completes the place. He is fluffy and beautiful, a longhaired cat with dark, grayish fur. He normally roams around the place, ruling his domain as all cats do, looking up at you, making eye contact and meowing if spoken to. Whenever I meet him there, I look down and ask him how he’s doing. He is very polite and always answers me. Every old bookstore should have a cat. I smiled down at him now, adorable sleeping in the little box, until I realized that I must keep going if I want to finish today.

Walking onward, to the left again was another nook, but a much smaller one, half a nook, which was the Religion section of books. A golden plaque was mounted in the doorway, on the side of the bookshelf bearing the 23rd Psalm (the Psalm of David).

In place of the missing half of the nook, there was a little, old, gray, rather boring bathroom. Inside the bathroom were… you guessed it, more books! The books all sat inside wooden crates that used to contain fruit. To the right of the bathroom was the business section, equally small and boring, comprised of just one measly shelf.

Now, I was halfway through the maze. I came to an actual doorway that was not made of books or of bookshelves. I left the front room, and entered into the 2nd half of the store. Here, the floor was cement, and therefore it wasn’t quite as cozy as the previous room had been, but whatever it lacked in appearance, it made up for in content, for here I knew, among other interesting parts, was my favorite section: Fantasy. It possessed no label, but with just a little bit of a closer inspection, one would easily discover the section that it was. Each book I looked at had something to do with unicorns, dragons, sorcerers, and the like. This section was a large one, or rather a long one. Just one row of very tall shelves spanning the length of the entire back room. As I entered this room, to my immediate left was a little refrigerator, one that would be found in a college dorm room. I looked longingly at all the Coke cans sitting on top of it for awhile before turning to my right to explore and decipher the mini-maze of shelves over in that direction.

I went as far as I could go to the right and found a little stepper to sit on, one that’s used to reach the topmost bookshelves. I soon got up and examined this far right aisle that I found myself in. It was the Mystery section. One shelf contained Hollywood Biographies, and all down the aisle cute little carts of books were interspersed every once in awhile. Boxes were everywhere, and in the way of walking quite often. Leaving that aisle and heading back towards the left side of the room, I passed a little square formed of three walls of Western books; this section again had no label. The center section can be described, simply, as chaos. This whole half of the store had a slightly unfinished look about it. “Chaos” was a shorter aisle on account of the many boxes on the floor preventing entrance into it on one end. More records were found here and books hap-hazardously placed in boxes. Finally I walked along side the row of Fantasy novels until I reached the back door that I could leave through. I had my hand on the doorknob, ready to leave when, taking one last look around, I discovered that this wasn’t quite the end of my journey.

Looking to my right, I saw a door bearing a sign that read, “Staff Only Please." I assumed it was a sliding door; obviously, I couldn’t open it to find out. The wooden door was a little taller than a person, but even so, it was a good four feet from the top of the door until you hit the ceiling. For a curious person such as myself, it was maddening to not be able to look over the top of that door to see what was behind. As I looked at it, I thought about the old man’s desk, the little bathroom, the refrigerator… and then I wondered if maybe the door hid a bed. That seemed to be all he would need to make the store into a cozy home for himself.

Staring at the door wouldn’t make it open, for I turned instead to my left. I had to turn a corner, and another long aisle revealed itself to me. It looked like it ought to have a “Staff Only Please” sign across it, too. The first thing I noticed was the largest National Geographic collection I’ve ever seen. There were also more crates like in the bathroom and a vacuum that sat on ever more books. I turned around and there was the door. I sighed. That had taken awhile, but my journey was now complete. The labyrinth solved.

But was it really? Yes, I made it all the way through each little twist and turn, every nook, corner, and little cranny, and somehow managed to put a kind of order and classification upon it all. Yet, I realized as I looked back into this little bookstore I had just been through that there was so much more left to be solved. Each book not only contained its own story, but each was its own story. When was it written? Where? And how long did it take? How did it come to be published? After that, where did it go? Who bought it? How many hands exchanged it, turned its pages before it came to be where it is today? I pondered the stories of people inside these books (the characters), and the stories of people printed on these books (the readers), and my mind was slightly scrambled at how much, how many “stories” were actually in that room, many of which no one would ever know again or probably even think about, save for me. How could a place so interesting stay so hidden as people walked on their ways, the eyes sliding smoothly from the coffee shop to the store on the other side, skipping over the bookstore without a second thought? How much do we miss of our world around us because we are so set on our particular path through life that we refuse to search the little mazes on the edges of the road, or because we just plain don’t even see that they exist.

Yellowed Pages Bookstore

2007-09-24T12:15:00.000-05:00

A little bell rang as I pushed open the door in the back of the bookstore. The familiar smell of old paper and dust greeted my nose. The most notable thing, of course, was the sight of thousands of books stacked on their wooden shelves. Music played, and it matched everything else in the store with its ancience.
I decided to head to the front of the store and start from there, so as to be able to walk through, describing it, and maybe make sense of it all. The place was like a labyrinth, it's wall made of books. One could get lost in the maze.
The old man who runs the place greeted me as I walked through. He's a friendly enough old man with white hair that seems to be yellowing just like the pages in his store, a little trim mustache, and eyes that smile behind square, black-rimmed eyeglasses. I told him that I just wanted to observe his shop for an English paper. He told me not to write about the mess.
I made it to the front of the store, the 48th street side that nobody uses. Directly in front of me were loads of records, everything from Mitch Ryder and Willie Nile to a record entitled "Gypsys, Tramps, & Thieves." Boxes littered the surrounding floor.
To the left was the Children's section, characterized by bright colors, a fun atmosphere, and generally thinner spines. A little chair stood lonely against a shelf, and looked like it would fit only the teeniest of children. To the right, a little piece of printed paper labeled the section "General Fiction."
As I walked on, turning to the left again, I came upon a little nook, a closet of a section with a doorway made of bookshelves that you could enter through and move a few feet down to you left or your right in the enclosed area. This section was the Classics. A big, white book entitled The Yale Shakespeare sat on the floor--the biggest volume I've ever seen! And ornate Harvard Classics lined the top shelf on the back wall of the little hidden section.
I walked out of the closet and turned to the right this time where I was greeted with books that had metallic, flowing letters that spelled out titles such as Almost a Lady and Savage Hope. A poster of a cloud and little white birds flying across a blue sky designated the Romance section.
And this was only the beginning of my journey through the maze of knowledge...

Video

2007-09-21T14:39:00.000-05:00

Pocahontas in French... gorgeous. C'est manifique!

Telephones Through Time

2007-09-11T00:23:00.000-05:00

I went to the Frank H. Woods Telephone Pioneer Museum on Sunday:

We walked into the small building and were greeted by a friendly-looking old man sitting behind the desk who said, "Welcome to our museum." Yvonne and I signed in, then wandered further into the building. There were various contraptions behind a glass wall. The first thing that caught my eye was the little machine at the upper left hand corner of the wall... the first ever telephone. ...It looked more like a little wooden box with some metal on it. I was wondering two things, 'where do speak into it at?' and 'where do you listen?'

The next room we walked into had the manicans in it representing the women who operated the old switch boards. I was thinking, wow, the telephone operaters of today have it really easy!

We continued to meander toward the back of the buiding coming into a much more open room with tons of old-fashioned telephones, offices, phone booths, circuts, and various other contraptions. I noticed the little things of course, like the "Mr. Banks hat" (named after the Mary Poppins character) hanging on a coat hanger in the mock office. It fit perfectly with the time period, because the phones in this room were the ones with the listening device that you hold to your ear while you speak into the part that stays on the wall (just like in Mary Poppins). There was even a really weird phone that was used in businesses that could be pulled far out from the wall as it was conneceted to it with a weird metal spring.

Next, we moved into a very dusty room, with an old car parked in it that fascinated Yvonne. The old man from the front desk came back to talk to us at this point. Of all the pieces of history that we saw, I think he was the most interesting. He started pointing things out in the back of the truck that Yvonne and I never would have noticed otherwise.

He was an actual telephone man. He worked for the telephone and telegraph company for 33 years! He started as a clean up kinda man and worked his way through a series of steps until he was a foreman. He had so many experiences and so much knowledge to share.

He remained our guide as we toured the rest of the place. The next room was the most visually entertaining. It had the "Phones in Colour!" for the first time. There was even a painter's palette with little tiny phones in all different colors where the paint should have been. Also, the "Eloquent Phones" made their debut in this room, featuring the dial on the bottum of the phone so you could take it all with you for convienience. There were themed phones in this room as well; everything from phones held by Mickey Mouse to apples, Harleys, Garfield, and even a ketchup bottle! Imagine if you walked into the kitchen to see someone talking with a ketchup bottle pressed to their head!

As we got ready to leave I looked more closely at the artwork. There was one depicting Alexender Graham Bell making the first long distance phone call (from Chicago to New York, I believe) with many important-looking men standing around him. Another showed a man whose name slips my mind out in a snow storm, checking the phone lines. It was about the importance of service and based on a real man who was very dedicated to the job and just recently passed away. The neatest one, in my opinion, was called "Weavers of Speech." It was of a woman stringing her tangle of lines of communication from the poles on the right side, behind her, to the city, country and suburbs on the other side. In it's time, it was in a newspaper, used for advertisment.

As we left, we said goodbye to our guide and talked about how amazing it is how fast all of this happened. In the last hundred-ish years we have gone from the very beginning of telephones to little tiny cell phones that can be carried about in a back pocket. It's strange to think that our grandchildren will laugh at home phones, which we have been so used to until just recently.

I also thought about how that old man was a living history. And I wondered, what's going to happen when all the "oldies" are gone? Who is going to tell the stories and keep the history alive in a way. Most of their stories will die with them, although the written ones will survive. It's kind-of sad in a way to think of our rapidly changing world.

Post 1: Discourse Surrounding the Essay

2007-09-03T21:59:00.000-05:00

"Writing that has a voice is writing that has something like a personality. But whose personality is it? As with most things in art, there is no straight road from the product back to the person who made it. There are writers read and loved for their humor who are not especially funny people, and writers read and loved for their eloquence who, in conversation, swallow their words or can't seem to finish a sentance. Wisdom on the page correlates with wisdom in the writer about as frequently as a high batting average correlates with a high IQ: they just seem to have very little to do with one another."

-Louis Menand in "Voice and Personality"

As Robert Atwan states earlier, here once again we find an essay with "a conclusion in which nothing is concluded." Typical of all well-written essays, it isn't the answer that is important, but rather, the question. Menand doesn't wish to tell us, "here's the facts, here's what I want to say, cut and dry." Instead his essay makes us think; it's purpose is to stretch the mind a little bit. I found it very fascinating, because it's so true. Each different person has their own unique medium for communicating. Some are great talkers, others are amazing writers. Some prefer to communicate via phone or computer rather than talking to someone face to face. Still others communicate what they wish to say through artwork. And others just aren't great at communicating at all, but it doesn't mean they aren't intelligent people. Therefore, a person can appear one way through a certain medium while appearing completely different through another. For example, Albert Einstein himself, as brilliant as he was, would put people to sleep whenever he would get up to speak.

That being said, for all the truth in Menand's words, he fails to make the concession that quite often a person's writing personality does match their true personality. Also, I found his comparison of the batter's average to the IQ to be something of a red herring. At first glance the comparison works, but where a person's batting average and their IQ have absolutely nothing to do with one another, I believe that a person's writing personality and their real one do have something to do with each other. How could they not? If essays must be true, then it naturally follows that there must be something of the essayist in the essay.

The important thing to remember is that something a person writes is solely a snapshot of who they are, just a piece of a much bigger whole. Human beings are, after all, so incredibly complex. A reader might meet an author, as Menand states, and say, "How they write isn't how they really are." Well, it may be true: that isn't how they normally are or how they come across, but perhaps that's why they write that way. Maybe writing allows them to convey a truth about themselves that would otherwise remain undiscovered.

Test Post

2007-08-31T14:30:00.000-05:00

First post for ENG 001 Section 7.