30 June, 2011
25 June, 2011
English, 111 (Fourth of July)
I want you to write in complete sentences 10 steps on how to pick out the perfect Fourth of July party. Use humor, but let's remember to be polite.
Throwing a party can be very stressful. Careful planning and attention to detail can often help smooth any wrinkles. Parties celebrating important national events can be particularly difficult, as you definitely want to impress that nosy Mrs. Carmichael next door for fear of being the topic of gossip for the rest of the summer. The bint has to keep herself busy somehow, but it isn't your obligation to occupy her.
The first step of avoidance is to decide what you are celebrating. Since this is the Fourth of July, the original publish date for Alice's Adventures in Wonderland in 1865, you would not want to bust out your conifer trees nor make the social faux pas of allowing your slaves to join you and your guests at the table. Instead, particularly if you are unfamiliar with the holiday, you may want to research it a bit. A quick Google search can teach you many things about a myriad of topics, just be sure to stay focused and to take everything you read online with a grain of salt; not everything you find is guaranteed to be valid practice.
Once you've garnered enough basic knowledge, it is a smart tactic to decide upon your theme. There are many wonderful themes one could choose for such a joyous holiday. A simple grazing of the novel is ample fodder for original and entertaining festivities. Your party could be Unbirthday themed, croquet with you as the lovely Queen, an enchanting living garden complete with decorated female quartet serenading your guests, or even a resplendently cultured raw bar complete with baby oysters and knives made from walrus tusks. Be creative and have fun!
Lists are always important when preparing for your pièce de résistance. Write down all the essentials for your party, and the non-essentials. This list will keep you on track, as well as help remind you of the basics you may forget when being swept up in the details. No one cares how awesome your ice sculpture of Emerald City is if it's the only liquid available for consumption.
Often times people require sustenance to enjoy themselves, hence “Eat and be merry”. Your food choices should flatter your theme. Luckily, the world of Wonderland has many fantastic items you can incorporate into your layout; just make sure it fits the overall theme you've started running with and the items complement each other. Small details, like a carrot cake styled like the White Rabbit's home with body parts poking from the windows or a red velvet replica of the Queen's castle complete with cards and a croquet match will wow your guests.
After you have the food choices, you must pick drinks to go along with it. If you're serving oysters, most recommend to accompany with white versus red wine. Wine is right out for a children's party, unless you also offer non-alcoholic alternatives. Young people are very difficult to deal with when drunk. A good rule of thumb is to always have a wide variety of drinks appropriate for all ages.
Now that you have the full attention of your guests, fat with the delicious treats you've laid out for their splendor, what will you do to prevent a riot when your food inevitable runs out? The best way is to arrange for some entertainment. Maybe pay a real mad Hatter to come in and make personalized hats for your party goers. Book that Goth Metal Alice in Wonderland band you've been rocking on your iPod. Whatever you choose, make sure it fits for your party goers. You can only get your friends so drunk, and they'll never be far gone enough to enjoy a clown making balloon animals.
Acknowledging that by this point you should have a less than vague idea of the people attending your party, a quintessential part of party planning is to create a guest list. It not only helps you synthesize the steps above, but also sets quantity as well as a checklist for any special needs for guests. It also helps your security team know who can and cannot make it through the door to prevent any party crashers from spoiling your fun. Tip them extra if you feel like broken thumbs may be needed to get a point across.
The end of the party is the part people remember best. One of the best ways to cement your party in the hall of awesome parties is to pass out gift bags to your guests as they leave. Again, these bags should fit with your theme. Facial moisturizer and exfoliants may be nice for some, but have nothing to do with the upside down and fanatical world of Wonderland. Feel free to have the items range from inexpensive silly items to maybe one or two larger items the person will want to keep and help them remember the occasion.
Not all your guests will be in the proper condition to leave, which means it is up to you to be prepared to house such miscreants. Location of your party can help with this problem, especially for large numbers. Hotel rooms or your guest room can work for this situation, just be prepared to wash the sheets and remember to lock the doors of rooms you'd rather not have people potentially fornicate in.
The most important step is to remember to enjoy yourself. Many party planners forget this essential step and lose themselves in making everything perfect. Parties are meant to make everyone happy, and as long as you're enjoying yourself, so too will your guests.
Throwing a party can be very stressful. Careful planning and attention to detail can often help smooth any wrinkles. Parties celebrating important national events can be particularly difficult, as you definitely want to impress that nosy Mrs. Carmichael next door for fear of being the topic of gossip for the rest of the summer. The bint has to keep herself busy somehow, but it isn't your obligation to occupy her.
The first step of avoidance is to decide what you are celebrating. Since this is the Fourth of July, the original publish date for Alice's Adventures in Wonderland in 1865, you would not want to bust out your conifer trees nor make the social faux pas of allowing your slaves to join you and your guests at the table. Instead, particularly if you are unfamiliar with the holiday, you may want to research it a bit. A quick Google search can teach you many things about a myriad of topics, just be sure to stay focused and to take everything you read online with a grain of salt; not everything you find is guaranteed to be valid practice.
Once you've garnered enough basic knowledge, it is a smart tactic to decide upon your theme. There are many wonderful themes one could choose for such a joyous holiday. A simple grazing of the novel is ample fodder for original and entertaining festivities. Your party could be Unbirthday themed, croquet with you as the lovely Queen, an enchanting living garden complete with decorated female quartet serenading your guests, or even a resplendently cultured raw bar complete with baby oysters and knives made from walrus tusks. Be creative and have fun!
Lists are always important when preparing for your pièce de résistance. Write down all the essentials for your party, and the non-essentials. This list will keep you on track, as well as help remind you of the basics you may forget when being swept up in the details. No one cares how awesome your ice sculpture of Emerald City is if it's the only liquid available for consumption.
Often times people require sustenance to enjoy themselves, hence “Eat and be merry”. Your food choices should flatter your theme. Luckily, the world of Wonderland has many fantastic items you can incorporate into your layout; just make sure it fits the overall theme you've started running with and the items complement each other. Small details, like a carrot cake styled like the White Rabbit's home with body parts poking from the windows or a red velvet replica of the Queen's castle complete with cards and a croquet match will wow your guests.
After you have the food choices, you must pick drinks to go along with it. If you're serving oysters, most recommend to accompany with white versus red wine. Wine is right out for a children's party, unless you also offer non-alcoholic alternatives. Young people are very difficult to deal with when drunk. A good rule of thumb is to always have a wide variety of drinks appropriate for all ages.
Now that you have the full attention of your guests, fat with the delicious treats you've laid out for their splendor, what will you do to prevent a riot when your food inevitable runs out? The best way is to arrange for some entertainment. Maybe pay a real mad Hatter to come in and make personalized hats for your party goers. Book that Goth Metal Alice in Wonderland band you've been rocking on your iPod. Whatever you choose, make sure it fits for your party goers. You can only get your friends so drunk, and they'll never be far gone enough to enjoy a clown making balloon animals.
Acknowledging that by this point you should have a less than vague idea of the people attending your party, a quintessential part of party planning is to create a guest list. It not only helps you synthesize the steps above, but also sets quantity as well as a checklist for any special needs for guests. It also helps your security team know who can and cannot make it through the door to prevent any party crashers from spoiling your fun. Tip them extra if you feel like broken thumbs may be needed to get a point across.
The end of the party is the part people remember best. One of the best ways to cement your party in the hall of awesome parties is to pass out gift bags to your guests as they leave. Again, these bags should fit with your theme. Facial moisturizer and exfoliants may be nice for some, but have nothing to do with the upside down and fanatical world of Wonderland. Feel free to have the items range from inexpensive silly items to maybe one or two larger items the person will want to keep and help them remember the occasion.
Not all your guests will be in the proper condition to leave, which means it is up to you to be prepared to house such miscreants. Location of your party can help with this problem, especially for large numbers. Hotel rooms or your guest room can work for this situation, just be prepared to wash the sheets and remember to lock the doors of rooms you'd rather not have people potentially fornicate in.
The most important step is to remember to enjoy yourself. Many party planners forget this essential step and lose themselves in making everything perfect. Parties are meant to make everyone happy, and as long as you're enjoying yourself, so too will your guests.
23 June, 2011
22 June, 2011
English, 111 (Journal 3)
Write one page, double-spaced journal analyzing the cause and effects of music in our lives. Consider in what ways does it make our lives better or in what ways does it make our lives worse and the effects (short or long term) of this influence.
Beat of the Drums
There are many moments in your life that you wonder if you had traveled an alternative road, would you be in a different place today. Even if you could go back, would you be able to chance the course of your life or was it set since your inception. Events that occur in your childhood shape you into the adult you will face the world as. It is the responsibility of the adults around you to guide you on the path to a mature adult, your trust often times giving them an opportunity that the weak may take advantage for their own benefit.
There are some sounds that can get into your head and refuse to leave. Becoming an obsession that directs you on your inevitable path in life. The constant tempo mocking your existence and leading you to your unknown goal as you follow it from sheer desire to understand and alleviate your mind of its constant drone. Lasting effects from times unknown, working their way into your subconscious and ruin your future.
So many lifetimes wasted by the hubris of those who were supposed to nurture you to join their ranks, instead using you as their scapegoat and means to their own galactic domination. Their wants and needs infecting your soul so that you no longer know the separation, succumbing to the fate they looped around you when you were but a child.
The drums, beat, beat, beat, beating in your head for you and you alone. The only other could never understand, finally sharing your plight at the last moment when it was too late to save you but in time to clear your mind enough for you to make the ultimate sacrifice. For you to save time itself from your own personal corruption as space closes in on your own life.
(Here's a hint.)
Beat of the Drums
There are many moments in your life that you wonder if you had traveled an alternative road, would you be in a different place today. Even if you could go back, would you be able to chance the course of your life or was it set since your inception. Events that occur in your childhood shape you into the adult you will face the world as. It is the responsibility of the adults around you to guide you on the path to a mature adult, your trust often times giving them an opportunity that the weak may take advantage for their own benefit.
There are some sounds that can get into your head and refuse to leave. Becoming an obsession that directs you on your inevitable path in life. The constant tempo mocking your existence and leading you to your unknown goal as you follow it from sheer desire to understand and alleviate your mind of its constant drone. Lasting effects from times unknown, working their way into your subconscious and ruin your future.
So many lifetimes wasted by the hubris of those who were supposed to nurture you to join their ranks, instead using you as their scapegoat and means to their own galactic domination. Their wants and needs infecting your soul so that you no longer know the separation, succumbing to the fate they looped around you when you were but a child.
The drums, beat, beat, beat, beating in your head for you and you alone. The only other could never understand, finally sharing your plight at the last moment when it was too late to save you but in time to clear your mind enough for you to make the ultimate sacrifice. For you to save time itself from your own personal corruption as space closes in on your own life.
(Here's a hint.)
21 June, 2011
Lighting/Shading and Algorithms, 176 (Noire Final)
Noir style lighting and "set design" in premade house model. First project in Maya. Don't hate. Click to view larger image.
14 June, 2011
12 June, 2011
English, 111 (Journal 2)
Write one page, double-spaced journal comparing and contrasting an issue now to the past or the future. For example, cell phones in the 1980s and in 2008.
Technology has long sense been an obsession for humanity. It entertains us, makes our lives easier, and gives us a sense of superiourity to those with less. Before the luxury of modern Orbit City, the wholesome people of Bedrock made do with what they had. Their archaic adaptations are the forefathers to advancements in methodology and technology for future generations.
One can’t imagine having to wait for a bird to etch your photograph, taking the hot water heater for a walk before you shower, potentially being stung by your shaver, and having to remember to not insult your kitchen appliances for fear of anarchy. Moving sidewalks and tubular mass transit, robotic androids with sassy artificial intelligence cleaning sky high apartment complexes, and meals comprised in pills are all innovations made to make modern life easier.
Aerocars evolved from the vehicles employed in the Stone Age, once powered by the courtesy of the passengers’ own feet, now they are propelled along by jet streams of air being expelled out the back. Some things have stayed the same; people still have close knit families, depending on each other for companionship and in times of adversity.
Oddly enough, even mankind of the 21st century can find aspects of their lush lives to complain about, always finding themselves overworked and their lives being made difficult by inconveniences. Technology may forever be evolving, but humans will always find something to whine about.
Technology has long sense been an obsession for humanity. It entertains us, makes our lives easier, and gives us a sense of superiourity to those with less. Before the luxury of modern Orbit City, the wholesome people of Bedrock made do with what they had. Their archaic adaptations are the forefathers to advancements in methodology and technology for future generations.
One can’t imagine having to wait for a bird to etch your photograph, taking the hot water heater for a walk before you shower, potentially being stung by your shaver, and having to remember to not insult your kitchen appliances for fear of anarchy. Moving sidewalks and tubular mass transit, robotic androids with sassy artificial intelligence cleaning sky high apartment complexes, and meals comprised in pills are all innovations made to make modern life easier.
Aerocars evolved from the vehicles employed in the Stone Age, once powered by the courtesy of the passengers’ own feet, now they are propelled along by jet streams of air being expelled out the back. Some things have stayed the same; people still have close knit families, depending on each other for companionship and in times of adversity.
Oddly enough, even mankind of the 21st century can find aspects of their lush lives to complain about, always finding themselves overworked and their lives being made difficult by inconveniences. Technology may forever be evolving, but humans will always find something to whine about.
11 June, 2011
English, 111 (Unfinished Narrative)
Decided to scrap this since it would probably be a bit too weird for my class. And I wasn't exactly sure where I was going with it. Best part was making Lenox sexy n'stuff. Here's lookin' at you, boo. ;) (Plus it was too long, and probably boring.)
Oh, and teen drinking is bad. It gets you killed n'stuff.
Sweat rolled down the contours of his chest like a river, as if water alone could sculpt ripped pectoral and abdominal muscles. The boy, cum man, sought to cool his burning core by dousing his brow with a bottle of water, shaking the excess droplets with a flick of his head.
Emma licked her lips and stifled a sigh as she surreptitiously watched with her best friend Jenna; neither could deny pleasure in the spectacle Lenox was making of himself. A pinch from the fourth member of their group, Oliver, brought the girls' attention back to the collapsible tent they had been attempting to piece together for the greater part of an hour.
“Not that I don't love watching all three of you make fools of yourselves, I'd like to put a mesh barrier between myself and this, “ he paused to swat a mosquito lit upon his calf, his glass green optics narrow with irritation, “plague of flying pestilence as soon as possible!”
Rolling her eyes, Emma returned to the task; the trio managing to construct some semblance of a solid structure as Lenox continued tiding the rest of the camp sans shirt in a fantastically sexy, and manly, manner.
As the sun lolled across the sky, the four friends frolicked around their lakeside campsite. Lenox and Oliver performed crazed acrobatics from a rudimentary rope swing, while Emma and Jenna lazed like lizards on rocks along the shore, shrieking in mock rage when sprinkles of cool water displaced by large splashes touched their bronzed skin.
Soon the day began transitioning to night, causing the youths to huddle around a small fire and boombox with marshmallows in hand. Happy and carefree, they broke into a few alcoholic beverages as well as a few impromptu drunken sing-a-longs.
Blissful, and ignorant, was the group of an uninvited fifth member. Nibbling on her nails, Nancy stared intently from her crouched position behind some nearby bushes. Oh!, how she longed to be friends with the youths, yet never had the courage to approach them.
Many times had she laid eyes upon them during their clandestine adventures in this very camping spot, the first merely by happenstance as she was on one of her lonesome hikes through the wooded pathways. She had only planned to check on their well being, having mistaken raised voices as calls for help rather than innocent play between friends.
Once she began watching, it was impossible to stop; she became a woman obsessed. She told herself it was merely a desire to be friends with them, but knew they would feel uncomfortable spending time with an older woman such as herself. If only they would give her a chance, they would most certainly adore her. After watching them for so long, she knew things about the young adults that they didn't even seem to recognize amongst themselves and constantly craved to learn more.
Emma, with her shining brown curls, honeyed eyes, and upturned nose was obviously head over heels for the sarcastic Oliver. He in turn assumed she had her heart set on Lenox and used his cold wit to protect himself from losing himself in the perfume of her shampoo he liked to inhale whenever he thought no one was watching.
Jenna and Lenox were like animals in heat, Nancy saw this from watching their interaction, but had also seen evidence of it during a few visits to the site of only the two looking for time alone. She also had caught Lenox eying Oliver when others were preoccupied, but with an expression of conflict and occasionally anger.
Unaware of their secret admirer, Jenna proposed a toast after tapping her wine cooler with her marshmallow roasting stick, “Ahem! To the successful completion of our Senior year, and having to never return to that hell hole ever again!”
“Here, here!” shouted Lenox as they clashed their drinks together over the fire, the jostling causing Emma to drop her beer and smother the poorly produced flames.
“Dammit, Emma, you had to ruin a good moment with your butter fingers!” mocked Oliver as the girl crossed her arms and pouted her lips in protest. “It was a fresh can, the condensation caused it to slip through my fingers when you smacked my hand with your hams for fists!”
“Oh shut up and go gather some more kindling,” Lenox admonished, glaring through the thick darkness in their general direction, “both of you!” He thrust a flashlight into Oliver's chest, using a bit more vigor than necessary.
“Whatever. Come on.” mumbled the boy as he pulled a protesting Emma by her arm toward the treeline. The bull headed girl dug in her heels until he lightened his hold, then proceeded after him at her own pace, shuffling a bit quicker to catch up to him as they neared the trees, a wary expression on her face.
Watching the two cross into the trees, Jenna leaned her body into Lenox so she could see into his eyes standing out against the darkness of the night and his skin, a mischievous smile as her hands moved down his stomach, speaking in volumes above her words, “You didn't have to be so harsh, but I do love it when you take control of a situation ...” He wrapped a strong arm around her waist and picked her up with a growl, moving to the treeline opposite their compatriots.
Nancy witnessed the scene unfold, chewing more furiously at her cuticles, a possible new dimension of their would-be friendship beginning to turn the cogs of her brain. She knew what she wanted to do could be dangerous, it could ruin their friendship before it could even start; she had to be careful. The night pressed in on her as she hyperventilated at the presumption of her consumptive thoughts. She could finally reveal herself to her friends as well as bring together Emma and Oliver! How could they hate her when she has shown them true love?
The plan was simple, she could still hear the two squabbling as they searched for dry wood and knew the other couple would be indisposed for the time being. Moving silently, she crept closer to the escalating argument, deciding she would head off sweet Emma first.
“Why do you always have to be so damn persnickety with me?” demanded the girl as she stopped moving to emphasize her conviction, her eyes burrowing into Oliver's back as he demurely ignored her and continue collecting sticks. “Answer me, you son of a bitch!”
Muscles froze as the boy erected himself, sticks forgotten on the ground as Emma fumbled over her words, “I … I d-didn't mean it like that, n-not about your … M-mother, Oliver ... I-I'm sorry ...” He didn't turn to face the girl, his body stiff as he moved away at a pace he knew she would not be able to keep up with. Cheeks flushed with embarrassment, she didn't press to follow him, standing awkwardly in the oppressing silence of the wood until the moment passed into a realization of how alone she was.
Panic quickly set in, accompanied with an odd sensation of being watched which she attempted to shrug off in futile. “Ol-Oliver?” she half whispered, suffocated by the sheet of darkness that enveloped her. Emma's eyes darted around, wanting to pierce through the fabric of night in vain, the drive to ease her discomfort finally coaxing her legs to move in the recalled direction of camp.
“Oliver, where are yooooooooooou?” her nervous whisper morphed into a stifled yell as Nancy struck from behind, knocking the girl out with a swift crack to the head and carefully dragging her limp body into the brush.
Oh, and teen drinking is bad. It gets you killed n'stuff.
Sweat rolled down the contours of his chest like a river, as if water alone could sculpt ripped pectoral and abdominal muscles. The boy, cum man, sought to cool his burning core by dousing his brow with a bottle of water, shaking the excess droplets with a flick of his head.
Emma licked her lips and stifled a sigh as she surreptitiously watched with her best friend Jenna; neither could deny pleasure in the spectacle Lenox was making of himself. A pinch from the fourth member of their group, Oliver, brought the girls' attention back to the collapsible tent they had been attempting to piece together for the greater part of an hour.
“Not that I don't love watching all three of you make fools of yourselves, I'd like to put a mesh barrier between myself and this, “ he paused to swat a mosquito lit upon his calf, his glass green optics narrow with irritation, “plague of flying pestilence as soon as possible!”
Rolling her eyes, Emma returned to the task; the trio managing to construct some semblance of a solid structure as Lenox continued tiding the rest of the camp sans shirt in a fantastically sexy, and manly, manner.
As the sun lolled across the sky, the four friends frolicked around their lakeside campsite. Lenox and Oliver performed crazed acrobatics from a rudimentary rope swing, while Emma and Jenna lazed like lizards on rocks along the shore, shrieking in mock rage when sprinkles of cool water displaced by large splashes touched their bronzed skin.
Soon the day began transitioning to night, causing the youths to huddle around a small fire and boombox with marshmallows in hand. Happy and carefree, they broke into a few alcoholic beverages as well as a few impromptu drunken sing-a-longs.
Blissful, and ignorant, was the group of an uninvited fifth member. Nibbling on her nails, Nancy stared intently from her crouched position behind some nearby bushes. Oh!, how she longed to be friends with the youths, yet never had the courage to approach them.
Many times had she laid eyes upon them during their clandestine adventures in this very camping spot, the first merely by happenstance as she was on one of her lonesome hikes through the wooded pathways. She had only planned to check on their well being, having mistaken raised voices as calls for help rather than innocent play between friends.
Once she began watching, it was impossible to stop; she became a woman obsessed. She told herself it was merely a desire to be friends with them, but knew they would feel uncomfortable spending time with an older woman such as herself. If only they would give her a chance, they would most certainly adore her. After watching them for so long, she knew things about the young adults that they didn't even seem to recognize amongst themselves and constantly craved to learn more.
Emma, with her shining brown curls, honeyed eyes, and upturned nose was obviously head over heels for the sarcastic Oliver. He in turn assumed she had her heart set on Lenox and used his cold wit to protect himself from losing himself in the perfume of her shampoo he liked to inhale whenever he thought no one was watching.
Jenna and Lenox were like animals in heat, Nancy saw this from watching their interaction, but had also seen evidence of it during a few visits to the site of only the two looking for time alone. She also had caught Lenox eying Oliver when others were preoccupied, but with an expression of conflict and occasionally anger.
Unaware of their secret admirer, Jenna proposed a toast after tapping her wine cooler with her marshmallow roasting stick, “Ahem! To the successful completion of our Senior year, and having to never return to that hell hole ever again!”
“Here, here!” shouted Lenox as they clashed their drinks together over the fire, the jostling causing Emma to drop her beer and smother the poorly produced flames.
“Dammit, Emma, you had to ruin a good moment with your butter fingers!” mocked Oliver as the girl crossed her arms and pouted her lips in protest. “It was a fresh can, the condensation caused it to slip through my fingers when you smacked my hand with your hams for fists!”
“Oh shut up and go gather some more kindling,” Lenox admonished, glaring through the thick darkness in their general direction, “both of you!” He thrust a flashlight into Oliver's chest, using a bit more vigor than necessary.
“Whatever. Come on.” mumbled the boy as he pulled a protesting Emma by her arm toward the treeline. The bull headed girl dug in her heels until he lightened his hold, then proceeded after him at her own pace, shuffling a bit quicker to catch up to him as they neared the trees, a wary expression on her face.
Watching the two cross into the trees, Jenna leaned her body into Lenox so she could see into his eyes standing out against the darkness of the night and his skin, a mischievous smile as her hands moved down his stomach, speaking in volumes above her words, “You didn't have to be so harsh, but I do love it when you take control of a situation ...” He wrapped a strong arm around her waist and picked her up with a growl, moving to the treeline opposite their compatriots.
Nancy witnessed the scene unfold, chewing more furiously at her cuticles, a possible new dimension of their would-be friendship beginning to turn the cogs of her brain. She knew what she wanted to do could be dangerous, it could ruin their friendship before it could even start; she had to be careful. The night pressed in on her as she hyperventilated at the presumption of her consumptive thoughts. She could finally reveal herself to her friends as well as bring together Emma and Oliver! How could they hate her when she has shown them true love?
The plan was simple, she could still hear the two squabbling as they searched for dry wood and knew the other couple would be indisposed for the time being. Moving silently, she crept closer to the escalating argument, deciding she would head off sweet Emma first.
“Why do you always have to be so damn persnickety with me?” demanded the girl as she stopped moving to emphasize her conviction, her eyes burrowing into Oliver's back as he demurely ignored her and continue collecting sticks. “Answer me, you son of a bitch!”
Muscles froze as the boy erected himself, sticks forgotten on the ground as Emma fumbled over her words, “I … I d-didn't mean it like that, n-not about your … M-mother, Oliver ... I-I'm sorry ...” He didn't turn to face the girl, his body stiff as he moved away at a pace he knew she would not be able to keep up with. Cheeks flushed with embarrassment, she didn't press to follow him, standing awkwardly in the oppressing silence of the wood until the moment passed into a realization of how alone she was.
Panic quickly set in, accompanied with an odd sensation of being watched which she attempted to shrug off in futile. “Ol-Oliver?” she half whispered, suffocated by the sheet of darkness that enveloped her. Emma's eyes darted around, wanting to pierce through the fabric of night in vain, the drive to ease her discomfort finally coaxing her legs to move in the recalled direction of camp.
“Oliver, where are yooooooooooou?” her nervous whisper morphed into a stifled yell as Nancy struck from behind, knocking the girl out with a swift crack to the head and carefully dragging her limp body into the brush.
10 June, 2011
English, 111 (Brainstorming)
Brainstorming Prompts for Narrative Essays
1. Being Prepared – Meticulous serial killer doing an impromptu murder.
2. Lightbulb Moment – Realizing every time a teacher told me the next year of education would be “different” and “more challenging” was a bold-faced lie.
3. Childhood Event – Child's dog being given away shortly after they bonded with it.
4. Achieving a Goal – Completing Portal 2.
5. The Good and the Bad – Watching The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly with Clint Eastwood.
6. Being a Teacher – Repetition, repetition, repetition … Then wanting to kill myself after losing hope for humanity.
7. Changing Places – Wife Swap.
8. Personal Rituals – Masturbation.
9. Standing Up – Not participating in the Pledge of Allegiance.
10. Disagreeing – “No, your Mom is fatter.”
1. Being Prepared – Meticulous serial killer doing an impromptu murder.
2. Lightbulb Moment – Realizing every time a teacher told me the next year of education would be “different” and “more challenging” was a bold-faced lie.
3. Childhood Event – Child's dog being given away shortly after they bonded with it.
4. Achieving a Goal – Completing Portal 2.
5. The Good and the Bad – Watching The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly with Clint Eastwood.
6. Being a Teacher – Repetition, repetition, repetition … Then wanting to kill myself after losing hope for humanity.
7. Changing Places – Wife Swap.
8. Personal Rituals – Masturbation.
9. Standing Up – Not participating in the Pledge of Allegiance.
10. Disagreeing – “No, your Mom is fatter.”
09 June, 2011
English, 111 (Narrative Essay)
It Came From the Pantry
My Mother has always said, “A clean kitchen is a happy kitchen!” It seems like a load of rot when you're younger, but definitely hits home once you're on your own. She was to visit next week and I had committed the mortal sin of sloth by allowing my kitchen go to seed.
The sunrise danced across the sky while I sat by the window sipping on a hot cup of tea and scratching behind the ears of my lounging lap cat. I then shuffled around the cramped space with bedhead and puffy eyes to catalog the damage my inaction had accrued.
Most of the cleaning and tidying was a breeze, the real task began once I reached the pantry which may have not seen the light of day since the dawn of mankind. I approached with caution, taking a gulp of air before whipping the folding door open in one quick movement and immediately regretted it. A plume of unknown particles assaulted my senses causing me to gasp, spiraling into a coughing fit that bent me in half and left me breathless.
Once the dust had settled, I assessed the situation with a grimace gracing my features. The pantry was filled with miscellaneous baking supplies, leftovers from a short lived stint where I fancied myself a master pastry chef. A snap decision to toss everything made cleaning out the shelves a short affair, leaving only what I assumed was a package of flour in a dank corner on the floor.
It was a typical paper flour sack, or the remnants of one. The once white bag was now covered in a black unknown substance, an odious musty smell emanating from its depths. Plugging my nose, I leaned forward and prodded the back followed by a quick withdrawal, moving to drag it from the back corner once satisfied with its lack of reaction.
Hefting the offensive bag from the floor, I turned to carry it to the trash. A few steps later, the cat was fed up with the lack of attention and moved into my path to twine between my legs. The events that followed are a bit of a blur; I recall his body tangled between my feet and a tail underfoot. His yowl rang in my ears as I slipped backward to land flat on my back, coated from head to toe in the noxious flour and nearly coughing out a lung.
Inventory of bruises and body parts left me alive but sore, my ego taking the biggest hit. I proceeded to cough like a chronic smoker with emphysema as I made my way to the shower. The flour was a thick paste once it hit water; I felt like it was in every crevice, seemingly alive with how persistently it clung to my skin. Three more showers, I still couldn't get rid of the terrible substance and conceded to retire for the night.
Morning arrived like any other; I stretched like a cat after a nap and began to prepare for the day. I did not remember the flour incident until I crossed the threshold of the kitchen, a shiver passing down my spine as I felt lucky to be alive. Life continues on, and my stomach was rioting to be fed.
The refrigerator offered no options, and the pantry had been pillaged the day before. I found my mouth watering for a fresh blueberry muffin, momentarily regretting not buying some the day before. While pondering this, I turned to find a single muffin sitting on the table, looking as innocent as a baked good possibly could. My brow folded in confusion, cautiously approaching as my stomach grumbled its appreciation of the sweet blueberry scent filling the air.
I was unnerved by the situation, one doesn't often see muffins spontaneously come into fruition on their kitchen table. No one else was in the house; the cat surely didn't wake up early to surprise me with muffins. So where did it come from? Erstwhile my stomach boycotted my rationale and focused solely on consumption of the spongy confection in my hand. One moment of distraction and next I knew I had bitten, chewed and swallowed a large chunk from its side.
And then, it screamed.
And I screamed.
And the cat yowled.
And I dropped it.
My Mother has always said, “A clean kitchen is a happy kitchen!” It seems like a load of rot when you're younger, but definitely hits home once you're on your own. She was to visit next week and I had committed the mortal sin of sloth by allowing my kitchen go to seed.
The sunrise danced across the sky while I sat by the window sipping on a hot cup of tea and scratching behind the ears of my lounging lap cat. I then shuffled around the cramped space with bedhead and puffy eyes to catalog the damage my inaction had accrued.
Most of the cleaning and tidying was a breeze, the real task began once I reached the pantry which may have not seen the light of day since the dawn of mankind. I approached with caution, taking a gulp of air before whipping the folding door open in one quick movement and immediately regretted it. A plume of unknown particles assaulted my senses causing me to gasp, spiraling into a coughing fit that bent me in half and left me breathless.
Once the dust had settled, I assessed the situation with a grimace gracing my features. The pantry was filled with miscellaneous baking supplies, leftovers from a short lived stint where I fancied myself a master pastry chef. A snap decision to toss everything made cleaning out the shelves a short affair, leaving only what I assumed was a package of flour in a dank corner on the floor.
It was a typical paper flour sack, or the remnants of one. The once white bag was now covered in a black unknown substance, an odious musty smell emanating from its depths. Plugging my nose, I leaned forward and prodded the back followed by a quick withdrawal, moving to drag it from the back corner once satisfied with its lack of reaction.
Hefting the offensive bag from the floor, I turned to carry it to the trash. A few steps later, the cat was fed up with the lack of attention and moved into my path to twine between my legs. The events that followed are a bit of a blur; I recall his body tangled between my feet and a tail underfoot. His yowl rang in my ears as I slipped backward to land flat on my back, coated from head to toe in the noxious flour and nearly coughing out a lung.
Inventory of bruises and body parts left me alive but sore, my ego taking the biggest hit. I proceeded to cough like a chronic smoker with emphysema as I made my way to the shower. The flour was a thick paste once it hit water; I felt like it was in every crevice, seemingly alive with how persistently it clung to my skin. Three more showers, I still couldn't get rid of the terrible substance and conceded to retire for the night.
Morning arrived like any other; I stretched like a cat after a nap and began to prepare for the day. I did not remember the flour incident until I crossed the threshold of the kitchen, a shiver passing down my spine as I felt lucky to be alive. Life continues on, and my stomach was rioting to be fed.
The refrigerator offered no options, and the pantry had been pillaged the day before. I found my mouth watering for a fresh blueberry muffin, momentarily regretting not buying some the day before. While pondering this, I turned to find a single muffin sitting on the table, looking as innocent as a baked good possibly could. My brow folded in confusion, cautiously approaching as my stomach grumbled its appreciation of the sweet blueberry scent filling the air.
I was unnerved by the situation, one doesn't often see muffins spontaneously come into fruition on their kitchen table. No one else was in the house; the cat surely didn't wake up early to surprise me with muffins. So where did it come from? Erstwhile my stomach boycotted my rationale and focused solely on consumption of the spongy confection in my hand. One moment of distraction and next I knew I had bitten, chewed and swallowed a large chunk from its side.
And then, it screamed.
And I screamed.
And the cat yowled.
And I dropped it.
07 June, 2011
Tablet!
One of my classes requires a tablet, so I've been fiddling with it while waiting for class to begin. Here are a few random pictures.
I'm definitely not a very good artist. -.-
Nor much of a comedian.
I'm definitely not a very good artist. -.-
Nor much of a comedian.
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