Impostrophe

In Texas I learned the word y'all. I had more than one discussion with people about where the apostrophe goes in the word. Some said that it went after the 'a' (ya'll). I searched out to study the right answer, and I learned that the apostrophe goes where the letter is left out, which y'all know that I was right. The real question is plural possessives though. If the word is already plural, children's, then the apostrophe goes before. If it is singular, boys', then it goes after. Interesting. To learn mor', click right here.

Revision

"Where the streets have no name" by U2
Air as ice cut across our lips and stilled our breath, starry lights peering down from above. Doors opened then closed, and the silence within the Ford Escape died as the engine hummed. Eric, Isaac and I had brought the scent of all-you-can-eat chicken soup with us; Eric and I brought a sense of adventure. We reached the highway, miles and miles of darkness. As we drove we blared songs by U2, songs everyone knew. No light occupied the road except ours, but we changed that. Our headlights flashed off then on, first for a couple seconds, then a few, then more. The lights above lit the sky but not the road; the headlights of our Escape did the same, except they didn't light the sky. Isaac as a conscience thought it best to keep the lights turned on, but adventure said the road was clear, smooth, glass, where the streets have no name. Five seconds, seven, the lights flashed on and off. Each interval ratified our actions, still alive. As agreeable as experiment was, common sense always finds a way to prevail, and it did. Our headlights stayed on and Eric, Bono and I regrouped with Isaac to find something else we were looking for.

Come on, Comma

I have many mixed feelings about commas. Every writer has a different style, some use one comma per sentence, others use two or more. I don't care how great Ernest Hemingway is, "The Old Man and the Sea" has too many commas in it, too many, that's right, too many, I'm brave enough to say it. I used to shy away from commas because of my friend Ernest, but as I use them more it makes a story flow in a way that feels easy to the mind. Interesting things I've learned are when to not place a comma after the word "but," or when to not insert a comma around quotations. Commas are great for clearing up confusion, separating adjectives, and making short lists. For more on commas, click here.

You too?

"Where the streets have no name" by U2
Air as ice cut across our lips and stilled our breath, starry lights peering down from above. Doors opened then closed, and the silence within the Ford Escape died as the engine hummed. Eric, Isaac and I had brought the scent of all-you-can-eat chicken soup with us; Eric and I brought a sense of adventure. We reached the highway, miles and miles of darkness. As we drove we blared songs by U2, songs that everyone knew. No one occupied the road except us, but we changed that. We began to leave the road, first a couple seconds, then a few, then more. The lights above lit the sky but not the road; the headlights of our Escape did the same, except they didn't light the sky. Isaac as a conscience thought it best to keep the headlights turned on, adventure said the road was as clear as smooth glass on a pillow. Five seconds, seven, the lights flashed on and off. Each interval ratified our actions, still alive. As agreeable as experiment was, common sense always finds a way to prevail. Eric, Bono and I regrouped with Isaac to find something else that we were looking for.

"Parachute" by Guster
I've only used two parachutes in my life.
Surrounded by people who were going to become my very close friends, I walked onto a plane. The plane took me to Texas, green and foreign. I spent two years in rooms filled with the aroma of brisket and potatoes, two years talking to strangers and finding friends that I never knew were waiting for me. A parachute helps us leave a comfortable place to experience something that changes us. Two years later, surrounded by friends and that good ol' Texas humidity, I got onto another plane. I said goodbye to sideways traffic lights, man made lakes, and thousands of people. It takes a big parachute to land in Texas, but the parachute to leave is even bigger. You are something inside of that plane, then when you jump you are something else; when you land and begin to live again you look for the parachute you always knew that you had, those around you.

Fishing

I've only been fishing one and a half times in my life: half, for all those times that I didn't want to go; one, for the time that I almost caught the ocean floor. One summer when I was a teenager I found myself rocking back and forth with rod and reel in hand off the coast of Washington State. We set sail early in the morning from Nea Bay, the northwest most location in the continental United States. It was to be the highlight of the longer trip that I had taken with my aunt, uncle and cousins, which had consisted of Oregon waterfalls, campfires, and plenty of Dad's Root Beer. The event that had taken us to Nea Bay was fishing, and for once in my life I was ready to fish.

It wasn't long before we were out on the ocean, deep sea fishing, fishing for halibut, which happened to be one of the only fish that I liked to eat at that time. Halibut is flat, but long and wide, as long as a person sometimes, and feeds on the ocean floor. The boat was filled with halibut lovers, with people that I didn't know; the waves of the ocean were even less familiar, and less kind. The goal was to keep everything inside your stomach that you had placed there within the last while.

I learned the motions of letting down my line and the effort of reeling it back up. At first it seemed like a way to pass time, then I got a bite. It was the first bite I had ever gotten so I tugged up and started the reeling. The only trouble was that it was ten times more difficult than I had expected. When the boat reared up I would hold the line tight, then when the boat rocked forward I would spin that line as fast as I could think how. I was catching a fish.

Minute after minute went by and I was tiring fast. It didn't seem to get any easier. My uncle got one of the boat people to come figure out why it was so difficult. The man gave it a minute of work then said, "You are hooked to the bottom of the ocean, it's not a fish." I was slightly confused because I was able to pull it in a little, and I was in a bit of denial because I had given it so much effort. There was nothing I could do about it, except see if I could catch the ocean floor.

After I struggled with the line some more I found within myself that I was going to catch something, whatever I had hooked. Ocean spray danced in the air, hanging when we dipped down and flying when we rose up. I never liked the old man and the sea, but I felt like him as the line on my fishing pole was almost entirely back to my fishing pole. I motioned for my uncle and others to come see what was going to come out of the water. After large heaves and a constant pull, I saw something flicker just beneath the surface of the water. It looked like a giant silver dollar flipped on its side. It was a halibut! We fished it out and brought it on board. The hook had caught on its gill, causing it to lay on its side as I pulled it all the way from the ocean floor to the boat.

I learned a few lessons from my only fishing experience. Even if others think that you are doing something impossible, you can still accomplish it. I also learned how good halibut tastes when you catch it the same day that you eat it. The most important lesson was for the halibut, no matter how hard you try to swim away, if you're snagged by something you have to get unsnagged or you'll be eaten.

Prepositions

Upon learning about this assignment, and before I researched my topic, I had a faint memory of exactly what a preposition was, but I propose that they are next to us all the time, through thick and thin. I think that someone once told me that a preposition has to do with my relationship with a tree, whether I was on the tree, in front of the tree, behind the tree, or even in the tree.

A preposition locates where something is or when something is. I helps us understand how items in a sentence or an idea relate to each other. I could lean against the tree, jump off the tree, think about the tree, or something could be between the tree and me.

It would be unnecessary if I wanted to meet 'up with' the tree, or if I slipped off 'of' the tree, or even if I was hiding 'in back of' the tree(behind). There are some additionally proposed concepts here if you would like to learn more about prepositions.

Analyzing Snow

In the essay "Calling Home," by Jean Brandt, Jean describes an experience that she had shoplifting. She literally went to the store, found a button that she wanted to buy, then, upon seeing the long line in the store, she placed the button in her pocket and left. Not long after exiting the store she was caught and sent to jail, where she called home and felt the agony of explaining the situation to her mother. She was picked up by her parents, who withheld punishment, reasoning that she had already gone through enough.
In the essay "An American Childhood," by Annie Dillard, Annie retells an experience she treasured from her youth. She learned things about life through playing football and other sports. During the winter she was with some friends throwing snow balls at passing cars. One of the hit cars stopped, and a man ran after them. She ran, teamed up with one of her friends, through bushes and under trees, zigzagging through terrain that they were familiar with. The man chased them and caught them. She enjoyed the chase so much that when the man yelled at them for their recklessness she was unwavering.
The narrative device, framing, causes me to remember more of a story. It ties the beginning to the end, which helps me remember the middle.
The man chasing Annie, through framing, could represent a contrast between carefree fun and responsibility, the black of the car contrasting with the white of the snow. The man is constant, similar to the consistency of the cars passing by. His consistency, though, is contrasting with the character of the other drivers that Annie did or did not encounter.
She is not afraid of the man because he is fascinating and fun; he plays by rules that she is familiar with. I do not think that she should be angry at the man, because he has given her something that she did not know she needed or wanted, but did. She also deserved it because she was throwing snow balls.
Well-told stories have an emotional pull and gravity. They help the reader apply the lessons learned. Well-told stories give clear themes that are stressed to give clarity to the direction that the author wants a story to go. Well-told stories can find well-tuned ears, and make them as well.

The Arrow makes the Arrow Maker

Keeping a blog requires me to risk myself in language more metaphorically than anything else. I can sense the risk of being shot by an invisible arrow of disagreement. Unlike the unspoken man lurking in the shadow of fear I will be speaking up by keeping this blog. The heavier risk is not really being silent, but it is the risk of missspellling:) words, misplacing, commas, sentenses grammatically being incoherent, and that is all, unless you also are risky with run on sentences, or hyphens.

I am not afraid of anyone reading my blogggg. I am not afraid because I will always know that someone else (my sister) has made an even more inferior blog than mine. The thing is that before I post anything I can decide what I want to express first, unless of course there is an Arrow Maker about. I conclude that the time limits on our assignments are in fact the Arrow Maker himself, hour glassing (is it alright to make up verbs?) us into speaking. There is a risk, but for me I do not mind one bit. The Arrow makes the Arrow Maker.

On-line communication has become so popular because it is a good source of inside jokes; defeated the inside part though I think. Anyone can see and hear something funny on-line and carry it with them among friends, sort of a way of cheap entertainment. Other aspects of it include the being connected to others thing. It is easy for people to find old friends on Facebook, or to say things to the hundreds of aquaintances that they have. It is all bound to continue.