So I found this picture today and I absolutely fell in love with it. A few summers ago, I went to Warped Tour at the Verizon Wireless Music Center in Noblesville and this was just one of over a hundred photos that happened to be sitting in one of my picture folders. Although it doesn't really tell a story, its interesting because I think it shows different personalities of the people who attend these events.

'Hooked'

     Where to start... I guess it would be logical to start with the title. 'Hooked' has been, by far, my favorite sample essay that i've read. The title at first glance seemed just like a regular title given to a paper. Although after reading the essay, the title was clever and seemed to fit not only the assignment purpose, but it fit well with the theme of the paper too.
     One part of the essay that I loved were the descriptive words used. Each brand name, each lake, and even each color used to describe parts within the paper made it memorable. Another part of the essay that caught my eye was the flow of it. It focused on the events leading up to the 'phase' for about half of the essay which I think made the actual hobby a bigger and more important hobby. Finally, I liked that the author included almost a tragedy at the end of the essay. It made it believeable and more credible than it already was and also gave it that 'one of a kind' feel.

My Phase: Creeping

     So originally when I first read next week's assignment, I didn't know what I was going to write about. I couldn't really remember a specific phase I went through that I still wasn't going through. Or at least something worthy to write about. Then, while I was facebook creeping last night, it hit me. I'm going to write about my creeping phase...
     It goes along with my blog's title, right? I'm sure everyone has done this. You get in the car with your friend or friends, and somehow you end up aimlessly driving around through neighborhoods with the windows down and some song playing on the radio. Occasionally, you would point at a specific house and say 'so-and-so lives there' or 'thats so-and-so's house'. Yeah, I've done that; although more than the average person probably. My friend, no I'm not going to say her name, and I had a routine. It would involve a simple,  one-word text message and a trip to starbucks. The rest was history... or so I thought.

Is this sad?

My lunch table made a shocking discovery today. At the beginning of Freshman year, we sat at one of those long tables. There were so many of us and we always fought for the seats at the end. That way we could talk to the most people as there would be those who would pull up chairs around the sides creating a circular effect. By Sophomore year, we still sat at one of those long tables but our numbers had dwindled. There weren’t as many of us and we didn’t have to fight for the ends anymore. By my Junior year, we moved to a round table just managing to fit everyone but adding a few extra chairs. However, as second semester came our numbers were still dwindling. Then by senior year, we had enough chairs for everyone. By second semester, we had extra chairs.

                Then today, someone mentioned jokingly how we had no friends. But we came to realize that they weren’t joking. It’s not like our old friends made new friends. They were still friends with all the people used to be friends with, but they weren’t our friends anymore. There’s this group of people who used to sit at our lunch table, a group of people who used to be our friends, who don’t like us anymore. We all have our other friends, the ones we know well but not well enough that we would go sit with them at lunch. We have each other and count on each other. But the funny part is, none of us care that our old friends don’t like us. We accepted it as a part of life…

'Painting with Neil'

     Of the three essays assigned for this week's assignment, my favorite was 'Painting with Neil'. Don't get me wrong, the other two were well written but this one was different. 'Faja' wasn't necessarily a depressing essay, but more somber. However, the writer did manage to change tones to make it more interesting. He/she talked about how he/she felt bad for his/her father because he seemed 'lost' on the days he didn't have anything to do but then went into how his/her father loved them taking the tone from somber to loving. ' To me, 'A Practiced Grace' seemed to miss elements of vitality or life but I spend the majority of my free time in a coffee shop and I completely understand the point of their essay.
     'Painting with Neil' was still my favorite though. The tone of the essay was quite hard to pinpoint though. It focuses on Neil's negativity and agitation but the essay isn't negative, it's almost ironic and humorous. I give props to the writer because i've tried to write an essay like that and it's hard to do. Also, I know Neil and I believe the write executed his personality perfectly.

My Last Season

     So I've decided that I don't really care if people know who I am. I had my last first performance for show choir ever last night and I just had to blog about it. After being in show choir for four years, those nervous butterflies that you get before you go on stage seem to dissipate. Last night, however, was quite different for me. I could blame it on the higher ballroom shoes we were forced to wear or the long white skirts that were too long for some people, but i don't because I know thats not why I was nervous. Although those things probably aided in making me nervous. I was nervous because it was my last first performance ever.
     It sounds silly, being nervous because it was a last first performane. But some people just don't understand the bonds that you create with your group, the fun you have at not only the competitions but the practices that you often dread, and the stories and experiences you're able to tell. You could probably compare it to the band.. 'One time, at band camp....' They look forward to the competition season but once its over they just don't know what to do. Its the same with show choir. And the fact that I'm a senior who won't have another season only makes me miss it more before it's even started.

Looking forward to school?

I remember in the summer when I would look forward to Senior Year. I still do, don’t get me wrong. In fact, I’m already making plans for Just Because Week, Spring Break, Morp, Prom, and all that Senior Stuff. My classes, on the other hand, seem to be the opposing force. My first semester classes weren’t that bad. It was rare if I did homework at home; I could probably count the number of times I sat down to finish an assignment outside of school on my hand. My second semester classes are different though. I think in a good way, but I’m not entirely sure…

Let me first say that I’m not an English person. I’ve never been bad at it but I never thought of myself as an astonishing writer or any of those praised nicknames. Something changed when I walked into this composition class though. With only the first assignment I found myself not writing to fill space or make it to a certain number of pages. I found myself writing because I wanted to, because I had something to say.

'Ticket to the disaster'

     In Berne's essay 'Ground Zero', she emphasizes on how a certain area, in her case Ground Zero, has different meanings and views to different people. Often times, authors take a certain place and describe what they see. However, this essay focuses on how different people view the same area as well as describing her emotions felt during her visit to Ground Zero. I personally prefer these types of essays over simple descriptive essays. I find them more interesting to read and it sometimes helps me step back and look at the entire picture instead of one specific detail.
     Her use of tone is interesting. While the subject, Ground Zero, has a very somber tone to begin with she doesn't use that as her tone for her entire essay. I would describe the tone as curiousity mixed with confusing. Her ending, though, was quite warming. She described the wide emptiness where so many had lost their lives. "And by the act of our visiting -whether we are motivated by curiosity or horror or reverence or grief, or by something confujsing that combines them all - that space fills up again." I found this essay as a whole almost to be a question and then the resolution was proposed at the end making it a different kind of descriptive essay that's rarely seen.