11/29/09

               Song of Christmas Past

I think of Grandmother's Christmas sweater.

     Lazy mini-van doors slide and crash.

     Hating to enter the bitter cold, but wanting so badly to get inside

     Heavy wooden doors open to an explosion of loving scents of vanilla, cinnamon, and Old Spice

and I think of Grandmother's Christmas sweater

     Gifts galore!

     Legos, hot wheels, gag gifts, and colthes!

     Narrowly escaping cheek pinching.

     Hugs that actually make you eyes pop out a bit.

and I think of Grandmother's Christmas sweater

     The gift exchange, card games, board games.

     Grandfather's remarks, grandmother's care

     Cousins' antics, aunts' gossip, uncles' practical jokes

and I think of Grandmother's Christmas sweater

     Candles burn out, fires die down.

     Snow turns from white, to dark blue, to black.

     I hope we didn't forget anything!

     My eyes grow heavy, and a sadness grows for the next 364 days

as I think of grandmother's Christmas sweater

 

11/24/09

Out of the blanket of grey monotony, I saw her.

Eyes like saphires encased in pearls.

Hair of golden streams.

Skin fairer than the robe of the cherubim.

 

Though, as I looked closer I noticed a stain on this robe.

A blotch of black and blue.

Swiftly, she glances about with the gait of an abandoned animal.

Hoping no one would detect.

 

As her darling approaches, she dons a pair of sunglasses,

in an almost instructed fashion.

Continuing her masquerade with the one she loves so dearly.

 

11/19/09

Life is a magic show

Nervous anticipation plagues you as the lights dim.

Dazzling tricks enchant you.

Tricks begin and you know this will be the best yet.

Tricks conclude and you can't help bit only to ponder the next.

The finale arrives!

You're lost in astonishment.

Your eyes so wide

surely the magician can see them from the stage!

What will happen next?

The lights intensify.

It's over.

 

The Old garage door slowly opens.

Other children's voices are distant and barely audible.

A sudden burst of noon-time sunlight.

A breeze rolls in.

The smell of fresly cut grass and gasoline I now inhale.

I shiled my eyes from the reflective gray asphalt.

I see it now!

Charging all night it was ready to go.

That little red Jeep Wrangler, with it's two speeds, and "Hey Arnold" stickers.

I picture myself.

Taking my friends for cruises around the cul-de-sac,

pretending to go through drive-thrus,

chasing bad guys.

Then I notice it.

My eyes slowly water.

I had forgotten to plug it in after driving it yesterday.

 

11/12/09

Colors of Contrast

Occasionally, I am pure chalkboard green

a sheet of endless possibilities

continuously feeling others' ideas

then remembering them no longer with a flick of the wrist

a movement of a Bach symphony, I once knew

and a third grade class' first division problem

But that strikes a chord with me no longer

For the green of the chalkboard is pure

 

Often, though, I feel I am highlighter yellow

transparent

my thoughts belong, not only to me

but to everyone who brings forth an inquiry

it's not the thoughts, truly, that are important

It's the very fact that the thoughts are important, that is important

Unimportant thoughts concern no one

two contrasting colors of personality

But one person

 

wiki 5 20/20 - good observations! I think the fact that the pastor stepped away and let the kids do it all surprised many people.

11/4/09

On Monday of this week, Pastor Schwab of Zion Lutheran lead our chapel service.  But almost immediately, he quickly handed it off to Bethany Lyons, Rachel Krauss and Cory Boucher.  Their message was very insightful, showing that we can tell someone all the facts we know concerning God, and go on for days.  Nevertheless, if we don't show God's love, it won't mean anything to anybody.  They used a splendid illustration of this through a skit.  Cory played a robot who could recite anything relating to Christianity.  Anything from the Small Catechism, to a sermon from Wednesday of two months ago.  Rachel boasted about this.  Whereas, Bethany was skeptical.  She asked the question of whether the machine could love.  The fact that it couldn't summarized the entire message of "They will know we are Christians by our love."  All three of them did quite a good job at playing their characters.  Cory's vocals matched that of the stereotypical robot.  And Rachel and Behany most had enough drama in their voices to make the skit "believable."  The only thing I noticed was wrong was Bethany's back was turned to most of the right side of the gymnasium.  Although, this was hardly noticable.

 

wiki 4  - 20/20  - good posting. Your comments are very apt... esp. about the intro and the bird. Your thoughts on Jordan were insightful too. She did a good job!

10/30/09

This Wednesday, our school's pastor, Pastor Clausing led a chapel service commemorating two saints including St. Jude.  Pastor Clausing did a very good job at being a public speaker.  He always strikes a chord with his audience.  He does a very good job at relating to his audience members, and in a sense, putting himself out there, by using hand gestures and walking around on stage.  He did this by saying something along the lines of "I know this seems really boring, but you'll see how this can relate to Christians of any era.  What was seriously amazing about this instance of public speaking was that he was able to hold at least a portion of his audience's attention while a sparrow was flying around the gymnasium. 

 

10/30/09

Today in English Symposium, Jordan Fruit did a speech on going to the movie theatre.  Her public speaking skills were good, however she moved around a lot.  She was very good at projecting her voice toward her audience.  Her speech was entertainment in nature and she did a good job at this by speaking of humourous situations while attending the cinema.  She was very good at making sound effects that mimicked sounds you would commonly hear at the cinema, such as a group of friends narrating the entire movie, and people making explosion noises.  It was overall an entertaining and relatable speech.

 

 

wiki 3 - 10/23  - 0/20 - no posting

 

wiki 2 - 10/16  - 20/20 - good entry... very detailed

10/16/09

On Thursday morning of this week, we had the Seniors, which included the football team, and Mr. Kuhlman lead our chapel service.  Overall, they both did a good job.  Mr. Kuhlman was very good at public speaking, in that he used his hands and arms to gesture and "come out" to the crowd.  He was loud and had good voice inflection, which kept his crowd interested.  It was very interesting how he used tiles to represent people's talents.  The football team wrote down their talents on tiles, and threw them into a bucket hard enough to break them.  This was done to represent the fact that God gives us our talents, it is not of ourselves.  When the football team presented, they didn't quite have as much volume or inflection as Mr. Kuhlman.  Still, they did a good job as well.  Mr. Kuhlman made use of an outline, rather than a manuscript.  As Mrs. Staude said, this is easier if you're good at public speaking, and not very nervous about it, which was made obvious in the confidence of his speech.  The football team students also used a outline.  However, they seemed a bit less confident and in touch with their crowd.

 

Public speaking - wiki 1 - 17/20- good start. I moved your entry to top where it should go. Please always work at the very top of the wiki page! Sorry to take off 3 but this is a bit short of 200 words.

10/8/09

On Monday of this week we received a message from Pastor of Our Savior Lutheran Church.  I believe he did a good job at speaking.  I like the way his voice had such a calming effect.  It seemed very appropriate for a pastor, and as I later learned, psychologist.  I think he also did a good job at projecting his message to his audience.  The way he paced back and forth on the "stage," rather than only standing behind the pulpit helped him better connect with his audience as well.  Another good think he did to relate with his high school audience was to tell stories of moments he can remember when he attended high school. 

 

 

 

Travis Morgan

English Symposium

Mrs. Staude

September 22, 2009

When Old Friends Get Together

I can still vividly remember the moment I first saw him. It was the first day of school of freshman year in high school.

I was new in school, for I had just recently moved to Southern California from New York City. The people in So. Cal. were much different than back at home. Men wore their hair longer, and women wore their skirts shorter. I also couldn’t get over how health conscious everyone was. In NYC everyone in high school smoked cigarettes, at least every guy. If you didn’t you were either a mama’s boy or were weird.

Anyway as I was saying, he was sitting in the back of the classroom. All the guys and girls around him were talking and laughing and having a good time. He was just sitting there, almost looking angry. Joey Magnarini was his name. I noticed he was the only other guy in class who had shorter hair, smoked, and wasn’t wearing some form of bohemian style clothing. It was 1966. The whole hippie thing was just catching fire across the country, especially in Southern California. Two “old fashioned” guys like Joey and I didn’t exactly fit in during this time. He noticed me and we gave each other a sort of nod of acknowledgement. I looked around and made a sort of motion to him as to signify “What’s with these people?”  He smirked a bit and nodded his head. We both knew we were going to be best friends.

He and I did just about everything together. We started our own Rock & Roll band (Does every high school guy do that?), we both got job at the same hamburger stand, and our favorite band was The Beach Boys. We both adored the new 1967 mustang. We were also both conservative in a time of liberalism. 

I can remember one comical moment when a hippie wouldn’t allow Joey and I into class. “We’re sitting out today, man. We can’t let the “establishment” rule our lives,” the hippie said in the stereotypical Cheech & Chong type voice. Joey and I just looked at each other, grabbed the five-and-a-half foot tall longhaired guy, and politely set him down on the other side of the corridor. We then walked promptly to class.

I honestly can’t remember one thing that we could not agree with each other on.

Then she came. Her name was Sheila Axelsson. She had the most beautiful flowing blonde hair, and her eyes were to die for. She came during the second semester of our junior year. Joey and I were standing outside the school having a “square” during our lunch period. She was wearing a pink sweater with a light purple skirt that ended slightly above her knees. Both of our jaws dropped wide open. She seemed to be walking in slow motion. I went to throw down my cigarette so I could hold the door open, but it had fallen out when my jaw dropped. So I quickly walked over to the door and held it open for her. “Thank you,” she said with a perfect smile revealing the whitest teeth I’d ever seen. “Y-y-you’re welcome,” I said. I’d never stumbled over speech because of anyone before.

I turned to Joey after she’d gone trying to think of something clever to say. He just said, “I know.” Joey was a bit shyer than I, so I was able to ask her out before he could. I could tell he was a bit peeved that I’d done so, but he seemed to get over it within a few days.

Sheila and I had been going out for a few weeks when, feeling badly for him having nothing to do on a Friday evening, I invited Joey out with us. My girlfriend and my best friend seemed to get along greatly. We laughed and had a great time. This became something we did every Friday, whilst Sheila and I spent less alone time together. I remember Sheila and Joey started walking home together about the third week after we began going on these group engagements. I was a bit worried something was going on between them secretly. But I soon dismissed this as paranoia. After all, they did live right down the street from one another.

Then, one evening after they had departed for their block and I for mine, I realized I still had Sheila’s coat. I quickly sprinted for her house. I arrived in five minutes. A record time for me, I was thinking cheerfully when I saw the sight that made my heart seemingly drop into my stomach. The lights in her living room were on, and the shade was pulled down. I saw distinctly two silhouettes on the shade of Joey and Sheila kissing passionately. She was kissing him in the same way she used to kiss me, two months ago before Joey began coming with us on these group dates. Except he never brought a date. The doo-wop song “Two Silhouettes on the Shade” ran though my head over and over again in an ever-increasing tempo as I became angrier and angrier.

I slowly walked up the staircase to her porch and rang the doorbell. It took a moment for her to answer. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. She could tell by the look in my eyes that I knew. She took her coat. Joey came to the door. I noticed he couldn’t look me in the eye. I told him to come outside. We stated walking down the street. “I don’t know what to say. It all just happened a couple weeks ago. I walked her up to her porch and it was like lightning. Before I knew it, we were kissing,” he said uneasily. I could sense he was anticipating a fight. “It’s not that I’m angry for ‘losing’ Sheila, Joey. I knew we weren’t going to last much longer anyway. It’s because you did it. You are, or I guess were now, my best friend. This is just unimaginable,” I said with a soft, calm voice. Joey was feeling guilty to the point of unbelief at this point. He would have much rather thrown punches. Being the type of guys we were, we never were sensitive or “deep” about anything. “I’ve got to go.” I began walking briskly toward my house. I wanted him to stop me and apologize or just say something. I would have forgiven him right there. But he never did. There was naught but dead silence.

We haven’t spoke since that night fifteen years ago, until today.

I moved back to NYC following college to become a successful architect. Marry a wonderful lady and have three children. Never since then have I had a friend like Joey. I’ve always wondered how he’s been. I’ve been meaning to look him up, but then the feelings of betrayal come rushing back to me.

As I was saying, I was finishing up a sketch of a new project I’m working on for a building in Miami when my secretary came in. “You have a call on 3 from a Magnarini, a Joey Magnarini,” she said in her stereotypical, nasally secretary voice. Not paying attention, I said “Put him on hold.” She began to walk into her office. Almost immediately I exclaimed, “Wait!” Startled, she looked back. Almost humorously calmly I said “Never mind I’ll get it.” She nodded and closed my office doors and left.

I picked up the phone nervously. “Hello?” I said. “Hello, Jim, how are you?” His politeness seemed almost rehearsed compared to the Joey I recall. “Fine, and you?” There was a short pause. “Guilty.” He said in a crackled voice that caused him to clear his throat after saying it. There was another long pause. “What I did to you fifteen years ago was deplorable. You and I were, as they say, ‘two-peas-in-a-pod.’”  I chuckled a bit to myself, for we always made fun of people who used that phrase. “It’s been eating me up inside, Jim. I can’t sleep at night without thinking of what I did to you. Would it make you feel better if I told you Sheila did the same to me as she did to you? Soon after high school ended she ran away with some guy from San Francisco. I’ve just been here in San Diego, working as a mechanic.” I suddenly became very angry with myself for having any reserved bitter feelings toward Joey. He, in a way saved me from getting too close to Sheila, and her leaving me after I fell in love with her as he did. He also wasn’t as fortunate as I am financially or family-wise. I wanted to cry. I was Joey’s only friend and I had robbed him of that. And now he had nothing. I tried to think of something to say, but all that came out was “Oh, that’s good. Work on any ’67 mustangs?” We had some petty conversation for a few minutes, and then he said he had to go. I told him I’d try to make it out there to see him. He said “Yeah” in disbelieving agreement, and that was it.

Three weeks later I knew how Joey must have felt. He had passed the torch of guilt to me. My wife had noticed I was acting differently. Angrier and depressed, it was now eating me up inside. I told my wife the entire story of the friendship of Joey and I. I bought the ticket that evening. I was on my way to San Diego the next day.

 

 

After you read part 2 of the story, comment on the story. I am particularly interested on what you think of Crane's style. Is he an entertaining author? I am also curious about how you feel this story compares in style to The Red Badge of Courage... any similarities or did Crane go in an entirely new direction?

 

I enjoy the way in which Stephen Crane wrote this short story.  The way he was able to switch completely between scenes and main characters effortlessly was great.  I particularly ejoyed how he was able to put the reader into the mind of the main character.  It makes the reader feel as if he was actually there during the event.  From an unnamed passenger on a train watching and examining Jack Potter and his wife, to a drummer in a "old West" salloon.  I  also really liked the ending.  As soon as I read that Scratchy Wilson was out for Jack, I belived the end would result in either the death of Jack or his bride.  When that didn't happen, I found the story much more memorable and true to life.  Because of all these things, I find him to be a quite entertaining author.  I liked this much more than "The Red Badge of Courage."  From what I can remember, Stephen Crane didn't use the same "cinematic" scene changing technique in "The Red Badge of Courage."  This is a new direction, and I find it much more intrigueing.

 

What would YOU have done in Pablo's situation? Would his situation even happen in 2007?

 

If I were in Pablo's situation.  I would probably have stayed until the bartender asked me if I can take a hint, making it obvious that they all wanted me to leave.  At that point, I would make it apparant that I was angry at the Irishmen's racism, and then attempt to make them feel bad and leave.  Unless I was having a bad day, I probably wouldn't have resorted to violence.  I would think that violence would only cause them to be even more racist.  Perhaps it would happen in 2009.  It definitely would not have been coming from an ethnic group as compact as Irish towards a Cuban.  The only situation, at least in America, I can think of that it may happen would be from a Caucasion person entering a bar in an all African-American neighborhood.  These are the only areas I ever see blatant racism today.

Good work on wk. 1 - Enjoyed your thoughts!

Living here in the mellow mid-West... we don't see ethno-centric neighborhoods quite to the same extent as say in NYC or Chicago etc. I can say from experience that there would be burroughs in NYC where you wouldn't see one type of person "invade" the tavern of another type; maybe not to the point of violence... but certainly service would be slow and virtually non-existent!  In fact, I once saw a black couple in Denny's on Fifth st. wait 45 minutes before they got served... while all around them other folks got their food and finished. It was sad... they stuck it out though, and got their meal.

 

what is the main reason people have so much difficulty simply being HONEST or at least up front in dating situations?

 

Well, I would say that in many relationships, especially in High School, looks play the major role as to why you're dating a person.  People aren't and don't want to be honest and up front with their boyfriend/girlfriend because they don't want to get into a fight and in turn break up and have to find a new girlfriend/boyfriend who's as good-looking or better-looking than their last.  Another reason is people don't like to hurt one another's feelings, especially that of their girlfriend/boyfriend.  This is principally true with guys who have to always be careful at almost everything they say to a girl.  Another reason is people simply would rather live unhappily than quarrel with somebody.  Even if it is for the good of that person.

 

Who has the bigger problem? Charles or his mother?

 

I would say that they both have a problem, but that his mother definitely has the bigger problem.  I think it's because of her overbearingness that he was so misbehaved for the first week.  I've seen how this usually happens to children of overbearing mothers.  Charles has a problem for sure too though.  HIs mother just needs to let him go once in a while and he probably would be misbehaving all the time to acquire more attention.  My guess is that he acted this way in school because he wasn't getting as much attention from his teacher and his classmates as he did at home.

Good work on wiki 2! I liked seeing the response to "Sixteen" from a guy's perspective!

 

NO week 3 posts... disappointing... 0/20

 

NO week 4 posts... also disappointing... 0/20

 

First, I want to know what you think... then I'll ask a few questions.

 

This story affected me more than any other story we've read thus far.  I had a friend who I grew up with.  We knew each other from the time when we were just toddlers.  I remember vividly when I was 13, he was only 11 or 12, and we learned his father had skin cancer.    He was especially close to his father, and never believed he was going to die even to the very end.  Some of the things in the story parallel exactly what happened to my friend.  His mother told me she only ever saw him cry once, and it was in a situation almost exactly like the one in the story.  I remember he never cried at the funeral.  And when anybody encouraged him to cry it would only make him angry.  I thought it was a very realistic, emotional story, and let's just say I'm glad I didn't read most of it during class. 

 

How about the dad in this story? Is he a "good dad" or does he expect too much of his daughter?

 

I believe he's a "good dad."  It is perfectly understandable after losing a loved one as close as a spouse to want to spend more time with one's daughter.  I especially appreciated the way he took his daughter to the beach to have that talk with her.  I thought that was very bittersweet.  I could see their relationship becoming a problem if she continued to stay at home with her father after the school year she had planned to enter was over.  I believe it would be good for her to only take a year off to be with her father and then enter school as planned.  Otherwise, her father may become too dependent upon her and she would in-turn become his new "wife" in a way, by cleaning, cooking, sitting in her mother's old chair, etc.

wiki 5 - awesome job and thank you for your very honest response to the stories. It made me feel better that I warned people in advance... I wrestle with doing that but always figure it could hit close to reality for some people.