Explain Exclamation Marks

It is a punctuation mark at the end of a sentence to show great feeling. It should never be used in formal writing, and should never be followed by another exclamation mark. Great Scott! This post is almost due! link is here!

Revised Paragraph "my life sounds like this"

“Don’t Cry For Me Argentina”- Madonna- I probably wouldn't have encountered this song if I had never had the history teacher I did in high school. Every morning that I would walk into his classroom for the first part of the semester he would be playing the same songs almost every day. Somehow, almost every morning, I would walk in during "Don't Cry For Me Argentina", thus giving him a pretty good idea of when I would walk in. As I would step into the room and smell a bit of the wood glue, from all the models he made, I would hear this song. He would share with me some stories about the planes he made models of. Often times he would tell of the intense dog fights of his crimson bi-decker and tri-decker model planes that the Red Baron flew or the account of anything else he had made.

Original paragraph from "my life sounds like this"

“Don’t Cry For Me Argentina”- Madonna- I probably wouldn't have encountered this song if I had never had the history teacher I did in high school. Every morning that I would walk into his classroom for the first part of the semester he would be playing the same songs almost every day unless he just forgot to put them on that day or if it is Christmas time. Somehow, almost every morning, I would walk in during "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" most every morning, so he had a pretty good idea of when I would walk in.
I first fell in love with this song from one of its quick build to a longer crash when Madonna isn't singing; the crash was such that I could feel echoing through my stomach as if someone was rolling a large amount of rocks off a cliff into my stomach. Few songs can capture my senses like this one: I was almost running through a field with a few trees, the ground would change in elevation and allow the trees to glide across the meadow almost as if they were skating and interpreting the waves sifting sand in my stomach. The year that I didn't have him as a teacher didn't keep me from visiting him. Just stepping into the room and smelling a bit of the wood glue from all the models he made would bring me back to this song. Once in a while, as I would sit there and do some homework, he would share with me some stories about the planes he made models of. He would always have a bit of candy in his desk, and gave me a piece whenever he would tell of the intense dog fights of his bi-decker and tri-decker model planes that the Red Baron flew, the total destruction of the atom bombs the Enola Gay dropped, a bit from the USS Constitution, or anything else he had made. Eventually, I adopted him as a kind-of grandpa without telling him.

Semicolon sense;

Semicolons are used to connect two independent clauses that could be sentences on their own. This is usually only done in English; I don't know of any other language that uses semicolons. The semicolon itself usually looks like a coma with a dot above it; one could call the dot the comma's hat. I have just given two examples of how to use a semicolon, but for a couple of more examples click on the Random Phrase.

Don't Cry For Me Argentina

I probably wouldn't have encountered this song if I had never had the history teacher I did in high school. Every morning that I would walk into his classroom for the first part of the semester he would be playing the same songs almost every day unless he just forgot to put them on that day or if it is Christmas time. Somehow, almost every morning, I would walk in during "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" most every morning, so he had a pretty good idea of when I would walk in.
I first fell in love with this song from one of its quick build to a longer crash when Madonna isn't singing; the crash was such that I could feel echoing through my stomach as if someone was rolling a large amount of rocks off a cliff into my stomach. Few songs can capture my senses like this one: I was almost running through a field with a few trees, the ground would change in elevation and allow the trees to glide across the meadow almost as if they were skating and interpreting the waves sifting sand in my stomach. The year that I didn't have him as a teacher didn't keep me from visiting him. Just stepping into the room and smelling a bit of the wood glue from all the models he made would bring me back to this song. Once in a while, as I would sit there and do some homework, he would share with me some stories about the planes he made models of. He would always have a bit of candy in his desk, and gave me a piece whenever he would tell of the intense dog fights of his bi-decker and tri-decker model planes that the Red Baron flew, the total destruction of the atom bombs the Enola Gay dropped, a bit from the USS Constitution, or anything else he had made. Eventually, I adopted him as a kindof grandpa without telling him.

Rapsody In Blue

For one of my two songs I decided to do Rapsody In Blue. I didn't hear this song until I was somewhere around the age of 14 when my jazz band brother was bringing home unknown artists.
Initially, the chords of this song didn't cause much of a disturbance to me, until the undulating notes' voices increases in such great lengths to insist to be heard anywhere in the house. As this concoction of almost infinitely many notes would slither down halls and through the walls of the home I would puzzle at how such a genre came out of the abyss to haunt me. Eventually one of my beautiful heroes would fall into the house, causing the abyss to retreat. Oh the glory of that blessed moment! No longer would I need to reverberate from the builds and releases of the stanza; no need to watch my homework morph from a paper to a screen viewing unrest! I would finally be able to rid myself of the notes that would stick in my teeth from tasting the mixture. The smell of dust would scatter, no longer disturbed by the waves constantly moving its home. Although I claim to have a high viscosity when unknown differences I do admit my eventual treason in terms of changes.

Slashes in the middle of text?

Weird how a slash sometimes end up in the text, and it isn't for a website. I sometimes struggle with slashes in the text because there are so many ways to interpret their meaning. In a blog guideline it can be used to denote an "either or" for the words being used. In a book that has confined space it sometimes is used for a person singing or reciting a poem. When I write up notes it can be an "either or" thing or a "both" thing, it can even end up as something used to put words with definitions together. My problem: what exactly does each slash mean?
According to TSMGTW the slash is used to "separate lines of poetry and to separate word pairs that present options or opposites." Assuming that this were always true, and none knew the short ways of saying with or without using slashes (w/ or w/o), what would we suppose these to mean? but since this is not the case it must be assumed that for note taking these abbreviations are still usable. For a quick list of its uses, click HERE!!!!!!!!!!!MUAHAHAHA!!!!!!!

A Defining moment

As I considered this topic I found myself thinking of what others might be using for their defining moments. Many times people will use their recent events, but today I wish to share something from elementary school.

In fifth grade I was transferred to the school my mother was transferred to so she could teach there. The only reason for the transfer, she said, was so we would have the same schedules: same days at school and same days off school. Our new school, one that was set on the traditional school schedule, didn't appeal to me since it was on the opposite side of town. Not only that, but I had no friends on that side of town.
I had the problem with the traditional school schedule since I was used to being in "tracks" for when I would be in school and when I wouldn't be in school, and each track was different since it would result in different kids being there for different weeks. I loved the track system since it gave me large gaps of days off!
My problem with the kids on the opposite side of town, other than me just not knowing them, was the fact that many of them didn't accept outsiders from other schools. The kids had been together since kindergarten and were notorious for causing the administration several problems. I wasn't exactly one that fit in either since my mother was a teacher there.

One of the spring time days I was playing kick ball with the class. Luckily I had a couple friends in the class by that time (my main one having a dad that taught at a high school), but there were still the few who just didn't like me! When it was our turn to kick, one of the boys who plainly didn't like me and his friend (surprisingly both of their parents were teachers at the school also) would wait for the ball to be rolled, then run up towards the kicker to intimidate the kicker. Their tactics worked well and this frustrated me since we never did anything like that to them. As I drew closer and closer to being the kicker I would watch the two boys continue in their stratagem while my anger built up.
Finally, it was my turn to kick. I was ready for the ball and knew that the boys would be doing their thing again. The ball came closer, just as the boys closed in. Watching the ball I just kicked it hard. The beautiful ball then made solid contact with an almost intended target! As one of the boys (the one who gave me the most trouble) was bent over from the blow to his stomach I ran hard and fast. Paying attention as to whether I should go or not I watched the boy continue to be bent over. He looked in my general direction and gave me a bit of a loathing stare.
When it was time for my team to line up again to kick a few of my team mates were still talking about how I kicked the ball right to the boy's stomach, and he couldn't catch it; how he was bent over for a bit of time after my turn. I do admit that I remember little from that point on about the game, but I do think those boys were still doing their little routine by the time it was my turn again. The boy that I had hit seemed more intent on nailing me somehow, but his friend hesitated a bit when the ball was rolled to me.

I also admit that the main boy that didn't like me and I did leave fifth grade with hard feelings, and until recently we haven't seen each other. It took him a few times to realize who I was, but when he did, he began to do almost all that was in his power to avoid me. I guess that sometimes the things done in elementary school do stay with us. Neither of us have made much of an effort to see if we still are angry with each other for that year, but there are shadows of the feelings found in fifth grade that are felt whenever I see him (and they aren't the nice warm fuzzy ones either!).

As I look back at that moment I don't find much defining about it other than knowing for certain that the boy and I would have a hard time getting along, and by being presumptuous at the beginning can cause much unneeded difficulty. Sometimes I wonder (if just for a moment before the shadowed feelings come back) what it would have been like if we at least didn't have hard feelings towards each other? Would I at least be able to finally let go of some of my memories concerning him? They are over stupid little things, but isn't it the accumulation of all the little stupid things that eventually define us in the end?

Calling Home and An American Childhood

In Calling Home a little gal shoplifts to avoid a huge line almost instinctively. I say almost instinctively since she was about to put the snoopy button back, but with a last moment decision she stuck it in her pocket. She knew she wanted the button, but didn't exactly know why she just took it that day rather than going back another day and purchasing it when there were smaller lines. Someone caught her, she goes to jail for a bit of time, her parents pick her up and decide that she had suffered more than enough. She isn't punished more, but she is reminded that her parents didn't approve of her actions.
In An American Childhood Annie basically grows up as a tom boy and hangs out with all the boys in the neighborhood. She did things with them and one of those things ended up to be throwing snowballs at passing cars. The one and only car that stopped ended up being a black Buick with an unhappy driver who chases the kids for blocks on end. He finally catches them and states "You stupid kids." Annie admires the man for chasing them like he did since it meant that he had great persistence, just like she would have when tackling people in football.
I feel that one of the reasons writers may use framing is to remind us how we got to the end. The story didn't start out with Mikey and Annie running away, but sometimes that is all we remember at the end. Framing brings the reader to remember what occurred at the beginning. The framing, to me, seems to suggest that the man probably did have other things to do when he was chasing down the kids. Did he have someone else in the car? Was he the driver of an important person? He might have represented what happens when things "catch up" to you.
If this were to have happened within the last few years I think that Dillard wouldn't be afraid of the man since if he did anything else he might be sued. She should have been since the man probably had a lot of authority somewhere and could have possibly sued her parents for allowing such a child throw snowballs at cars. Dillard also seems to lack a bit of responsibility at her age.
To me, effective stories are usually longer than five short lines. Although it is nice to know that someone went to a dance somewhere or got a job, we know nothing except that they went to a dance or got a job. What happened? Did you see the guy there that you have been dying to dance with? What type of job are you going to do? Effective writers allow us to know more of what is going on more than a brief overview. They finish the story. This might make one consider what else may have happened that day if it was an interesting story, but that only happens if the person is nice and wishes to make you feel like they are paying attention or if they really have interest.

The Arrowmaker reaction

By keeping this blog I am risking my language by knowing others can see this and stand in awe of my randomness. I will have to be careful in what I type since I have no idea as to how many have access to my blog and what type of comments they will leave me. I also realize that if I never speak up then I will never be able to take credit for anything.
Online forums and blogging have probably become popular since not only is one able to have their own website to manipulate and publish their work but they are able to be in contact with anyone who wishes to view their blog and has an internet connection. This is also a faster way to communicate with people long distances without the price or time it takes otherwise.

The BMRD

As a senior in high school I was in a class full of many, to be politically correct, students who chose not to succeed in high school with a couple of rare exceptions to this rule. With this being said I was pretty much the standard of measure: if I did the assignment, the class was graded on it for my individual class. With this being said the class didn't have many assignments given to them since I usually did them and few others would. The teacher didn't wish for so many of his students to fail. One of our only papers in it was to be 10 pages on a subject we could choose. The teacher didn't want us to do anything unless we really wanted to write an essay on it. He did include me in this rule. My original thoughts were turned to medicine and on other objects in the field of science. My teacher (I purposely don't use his name) didn't accept any of them. In a bit of frustration I jokingly suggested doing one on rubber ducks. Believe it or not, that is what I did do my paper on.
The next period of time before it was due I realized how much the rubber ducks had taken over the world with references of a lost shipment at sea to the queen of England having one in her bathroom with its own inflatable crown. But one of the things that stuck out to me was the BMRD.
"A BMRD?" some people ask. BMRD is short for big mother rubber duck. The big mother part comes from that same English class and was used to label anything that was big beyond almost all reason. The rubber duck part comes from the fact that it was a rubber duck. Hence the BMRD. There is such a thing, and it is Huge!
Just how big is it? For starters, until I look it up again, when placed on a river in France it dwarved most ships on the river. It was free floating, and it was, still might be, a hunt to find it each day since it moved freely. I do remember that it was 105 feet in a certain direction, but I don't remember which.
Knowing that I had included the BMRD in the paper that truely did end up close to ten pages I chuckled on the inside. For starters, who would read such a paper dedicated to rubber ducks? Secondly, what would the teacher think if he did read it and found out about the BMRD? I also smiled on the inside knowing that he would probably never read it since it really was ten pages and that he trusted that I did it since I had that integrity. If someone really wishes to read it I could post it on the web, but this is just a reminder that it is about ten pages of text that I do not wish for anyone to be subject to reading.