Fiction Writing: Snapshot Exercise: Cigarettes, Sadness, and Growing Up

Sally doesn’t like sucking on her nook anymore. She feels this behavior is juvenile. Instead, she sucks on her fingers. Today, her favorite digit is her thumb. Her parents always warn her that the odd angle at which she sucks will cause her finger to have awkward indentations. Sally never listens to this advice.
Middle school is a horrible experience for tenderhearted Sally. She is not ready to deal with the segregation of cliques. She doesn’t know where she fits in and doesn’t want to join any one group because they all annoy her in one way or another. The jocks only care about the body, at the neglect of the mind, and the nerds are just the other way around. The pretty girls could care less about compassion, but the merciful girls have not sense of style.

Office work is the bane of Sally’s sad existence. Paperwork follows typing follows drawing and then the repetition of doing all these tasks again the next hour, the next day, and the following week. Sally wants out of this monotony. She wants to have a husband support her instead of her having to take care of herself.
The wedding is a disaster. The cake tastes horrendous and the priest forgets his lines. The staff of the restaurant doubles the price of the alcohol; the crowd is most upset and not as drunk as they should be in order to have a riotous time.

Sally is sad to see her life draw to an end. She never thought she would be in a hospital dieing from lung cancer. Smoking wasn’t supposed to kill someone at age forty.

Nonfiction: Philosophy and Asperger's

Junior year of high school, I took a full year of Philosophy—Ancient thoughts in the fall, Modern musings in the spring—and it was one of the best decisions of my life. Truly learning how to think has exponentially influenced my mind. My neurons are restructured immensely from having taken that class. Let me tell you a bit about it, because to understand me, you have to understand the thoughts that go, or have went, through my head.

For starters, we would explore Metaphysics daily, questioning whether or not God, the soul or the world exists. Puzzling over why there is being and not-non being drove us insane. Even A=A was not a given. My mental universe was shaken with questions demanding answers. But first I had to learn how to learn about learning.

Christian Scriptures: Gospel of Matthew

      Two of the major reinterpretation that Jesus gives of the Old Law are highlighted in contrasting, and yet harmonious verses. The first grouping deals with the breaking of the laws of the Ten Commandments, both those against God and against man. The other set includes clarifying proper aspects of spiritual living.

        To start with (Mt. 5:21-47), the expansion of the covenant to include the internal mind over just the external behavior raises the bar on the difficulty of keeping the law, showing that only by Jesus perfect life can anyone hope to reach God, for God is perfectly beyond the grasp of sinful man, whose very thoughts provide an obstacle to a right relationship with the Creator.

        Walking through the verses, one sees the pairing of \"thou shalt not murder\" with be careful of any form of anger that could be harbored in your heart, for one is able to kill with the heart just as much as with the body. Jesus also informs the crowds that one is able to fornicate with someone from the heart and not by just having physical sex with them. Lust is a direct violating connecting emanating from one individual to another. Related to this type of sexual behavior, Moses permitted the Hebrew men to set aside their wives in divorce if the woman was found displeasing. Jesus reemphazises that this was never the way God intended for married people to live, but instead that a man and a woman were to be united for life as one flesh. Jesus does give the out of marriage allowance if one of the partners has sexually betrayed the other one.

Nonfiction Writing: Needle in a Stack of Hay

Note of Explanation: This is a Wayland Academy tradition of the seniors creating a scavenger hunt across town for the juniors. At this time, I am a  juniors striving to beat the below obstacle.

Rounding the corner and turning the bend,
I see a gigantic humongous pile of hay hiding in a
corner of Discovery Hall. I soon learn that we are digging in this
brown mass of grass. Of course the object | we would search for was a prickly
pointy needle. The seniors are cackling and chuckling to their hearts' content. One wonders what joy they get out of this. Some people look ready-to-go while others look really slow, some jump in and others yell.

Our leaders did not yet tell us how to go about
this in the most efficient productive way. Should we gently scrape
off the straw or should we dig to the bottom and then search
the ground. Oh! What a conundrum we were in. | We all get around the grass and attack it with our fleshbare hands. Sifting slowly, getting anxious,

Fiction Writing: Two Dummies and Two Dead Bodies

Umm, like what, I would say. There is nothing I can't do. And Tom would disagree with me and tell me I wasn't worth crap. I would scream at him then-Ahh! Stop! Leave me alone! I am worth something to myself, even if you don't find me worthwhile.

The whole problem was that I refused to help with the murder. I had always claimed that I could do anything, and Tom dared me to kill a random stranger. I couldn't handle that type of guilt. Tom kept calling me a sissy; Finally, he just up and kills the person himself. Now we are both sitting on the front porch of Tom's house trying to figure out what to do about the dead body.

Fiction: POV Exercise: I Am, She is, What We Wear

I Am What I Wear, 1st person

My dog died the other day, and he was the only family I had. All my human companions decided to leave me when they discovered that I was a transvestite, dressing up in feminine clothes even though I am male by birth. I guess they really didn’t love me.

Anyways, I stroll through the supermarket in my dress and come upon a lady selling apricots. As one of my favorite fruit, I can’t pass up the opportunity to buy these delectable treats. As I hand the woman the cash, she compliments me on my outfit. I thank her, and offhandedly say that it looks good on a man, if I don’t say so myself.

She smiles at me and whispers in my ear that she wears boy’s clothes with a tie and a fake moustache. I am most amused by this coincidental meeting with a person of my own kind. We decide to go back to my apartment to play dress up.
During the walk to my living space, we stop in a trendy clothing store and pick out new pants, skirts, and thick-fibered sweaters. As we are checking out, the assistant at the store notices that we are buying clothes of the opposite gender. He frowns at us and starts speaking on the perversities of this world.

Fiction Writing: Craft Issue and Solution: Killer and Kid Problem

In my short novel, Killer and the Kid, my dialogue is unrealistic in multiple manners. Although the goal was to represent the astounding genius of the kids, they came off as unauthentic, in that all their conversation was intellectual and they did not jabber in kid talk as often as was necessary to make the kids genuine. Furthermore, the dialogue does not flow as well as it could and the characters speak in excessively long sentences, as if giving soliloquies.

Answer:
        To better portray the actors of my book speaking, I can break up the long winding passages with the characters performing actions while they are talking, so they don’t appear as if chatting while in a void. I can also use multiple forms of dialogue: summary, indirect, direct, and intermixed. I can also try to put more plot into dialogue and less exposition. I can also make sure to put tension within the conversations and natural pauses or moments of silence.

Fiction Writing: Gathering Exercise: Christmas Eve Dining

Snow like baby powder fell from the sky during the morning of Christmas Eve in Northern Wisconsin. Cindy was extremely excited about unwrapping and discovering the identity of the gifts nestled underneath the real pine tree situated in the middle of the living room. The tree almost took on its on personality. During the decorating, the branches would refuse to bend in the perfect direction for the hanging of dried cherries and popcorn. Don’t even mention the struggle necessary to adorn the top of the tree; an overweight Cherubim is not meant to be so high up.

But forget about the past. Now was the day to receive the long awaited goods. Before that could happen, though, Cindy had to sit through a wild, boring, and redundant late lunch conversation with her family.

Cindy’s mother, Jenna, was fussing and freaking out about getting all the food on to the table at the same time. She wanted the cold entrees to stay frigid, and the warm items to stay blazing hot.
“Jenny, get those cheesy potatoes out of the oven,” screeched her mother.
“Calm down, mother. We all like it when the potatoes are well browned.”

“JUST GET THE DISH OUT OF THE COOKER!” Her mother was ready to have a nervous breakdown. The turkey was not as tender as Jenna had hoped, and she was trying to make up for it with the veggies and casseroles.

Grandma Wilson walked in the door and gave everyone in the house a stranglehold hug and a kiss full of drool.

“Glad to see you, Grandma,” lied Cindy. She hated this overprotective maternal force in her life.
“Honey, I have the best gift for you. Just you wait.”

Cindy was sure it was just a box of sugary cheerios or a rice cooker or a knick-knack-patty-whack-throw-the-dog-a-bone type of present. She wondered when Grandma would run out of this junk, or when Grandma would croak and all her crap would be burned or given to the poor.
Jenna finally had all the victuals on the table, and everyone commenced eating. While Grandma had her mouth full of dry turkey, Cindy asked her a question.
“What was it like growing up on a farm?”

Old Wilson started to answer but was forced to stop. She started making crowing noises as a chunk of turkey became lodged in her throat. Everyone stared in disbelief. Nobody knew what to do to help her. Cindy’s father leapt from the table and started whacking Grandma on the back, but to no avail. She just started to turn a shade of blueberry. Before long, Grandma was on the floor and Christmas Eve dinner was ruined. Instead of opening presents that night, the Wonaker family buried Grandma in a box in the backyard.

Insider or Outsider in Mark?

In the forming of any group, and by the very nature of groups, there is always a boundary of some sort between those in the know and those left to ignorance. Even the most humble of gatherings exclude some people, whether it be the loud one who will not stop interrupting everyone else or the whiner that nobody wants to listen to for a minute, exclusion is the new in.

For the supposedly universal religion of Christianity, this type of dichotomy would be preposterous. Are not all people on the earth allowed into the gates of Heaven? This question is even more puzzling when one sees that throughout the entire life of Jesus, people were extremely divided on their association with the Son of Man. Those that were supposed to have been 'close' to God, were furthest from Jesus, and those unfortunate enough to be spat on by society were given extreme attention by God Incarnate.

This division of spirituality was not always clear and distinct. Fuzzy lines existed in the sand of Jesus time, and even today, Christians disagree with other Christians over who is really following Christ. The point of the matter is that the people in Jesus' life, in view of Mark, were separated by his presence into camps of insiders and outsiders, with some stragglers in between, showing two different themes: the Gospel has very different receptions depending on the nature of the soil and the tension between these groups drove Jesus to the very pinnacle of his life.

The beginning of Mark showcases the center stage of Jesus making his appearance in the world. The first key player is John the Baptist, who seems to be a complete insider, and yet, from other sources, seems to waver in his faith while in prison, going so far as to question whether Jesus was the Messiah they were all hoping for to rescue them. Jesus responds to this with Scripture that details the life of the Messiah, and Jesus tells the messenger's of John to report that God's word is being fulfilled among them even now.

The next show of contenders revolves around the Devil tempting Jesus in the wilderness. From the worldly, material viewpoint, Satan wants Jesus to cave into carnal needs, while Jesus views the goals of heaven and the spiritual realm as higher and to be upheld against lower needs. Jesus represents  inside knowledge of the Kingdom of Heaven, while Satan, once an insider, chose to become an outsider.
The gathering together of Jesus insiders occurs when Jesus calls Simon, Andrew, James and John to leave their livelihoods. The key word is that they immediately drop all matters of earthly concern and follow after the leader of spiritual wisdom. A true calling from the Kingdom of God is evident in how ready the men are to become disciples.

Another showing of comparison between in and out is when a demon possessed man enters into a public area where Jesus had been teaching with authority, that had been amazing the people. Even when the people did not fully understand Jesus, the demon was out and about ready to say the truth of Jesus, but Jesus forbid him, for His time was not yet come.

The next incident has to do with an inbetween person. Simon´s mother-in-law is sick with a fever and Jesus heals her, but the reader does not know for sure if the mother is in the know or left out in the cold.
All to him lonesome self praying, Jesus is found and surrounded by people who want his attention. While Jesus is spending time alone on the inside with the Father, the people are worried about natural problems instead of higher spiritual yearnings.

The next scene involves the healing of a leper by Jesus. While the Son of Man told the once-leper to be quiet about his miracle and only go to the temple to show himself clean before God, the man blows steam all over the place and everyone finds out and Jesus has to leave the area.

The next feud takes place over the healing of a paralytic. Jesus heals the man by saying ¨Your sins are forgiven.¨ At this, the teachers of the law exclaim that Jesus is blaspheming because only God has the ability to forgive sins. Jesus replies with the question of which is either to say: ¨Your sins are forgiven, or get up, take your mat, and walk.¨” This division between those that claim to speak for God and the one who is actually God speaking is quite striking.

The next series involves a discussion of who Jesus eats with and why. The main character, other than Jesus, is Levi, a tax collector who has been called to be a follower of Jesus. In the time of Jesus, tax collectors, along with prostitutes, the sick, and homeless, were thought of as lowly and sinners, not deserving of relating to the righteous. Jesus stirs the kettle by associating with those that religious society deems unworthy of attention. Jesus replies with his usual wit to some of the outsider Pharisees. ¨It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners¨(Mark 2:17)

A sequential occurrence takes place when Jesus heals a man on the Sabbath, causing the animosity of  some of the religious leaders. These uppity gurus complain that the violation of working on the Sabbath is not to be broken, even at the cost of restoring life. Jesus comments elsewhere that man was not made for the Sabbath, but the Sabbath made for man to rest and rejuvenate, and worship God, and care for neighbors and enemies.

Another intriguing happening takes place when Jesus and his followers are all crowded into a room to the point where Jesus is not able to eat. Jesus' biological family thinks Jesus must be ¨out of his mind¨(Mark 3:21). This lack of understanding on the part of his earth family, the straggling outsiders, foreshadows a later saying of Jesus. He declares that in contrast to blood ties, ¨whoever does God´s will is my brother and sister and mother¨(Mark 3:35).

One of the defining parables of the whole book of Mark is the parable of the Sower and the Seed. This all inclusive symbolism sheds light on the ins and outs of the kingdom, literally. Sparing the well known details, most of the characters throughout the rest of the Gospel can be interpreted in some way through the lens of this story. In order to more easily fit people into this complex narrative, a continuum of ´in the Kingdom´ or ´out of the Kingdom´ is used, along with the category of fence-sitter or straggler.
In respect to space, an exponential amount of intruders and associates are seen throughout the middle part of Mark.

In brief:
The demon Legion is sent into a herd of pigs, causing the town people to decry Jesus because, thinking more of their spiritual welfare, Jesus did not over worry at their ruined physical livelihood.
Jesus also finds that the people in his hometown of Nazareth have weak faith. Even though they see the power of his authority, they complain that this man can be know greater than us because we know his mother and carpenter father, whereas one of true power is just supposed to appear out of nowhere.

An infamous outsider is King Herod, who goes against common sense and gives into his oath of giving the daughter of Herodias John the Baptist´s head on a platter, instead of saving life and going back on his word, as Jesus would have called an insider to do.

In chapter seven, Jesus also calls out many leaders for following the vain traditions of men, keeping the outside of things clean, while neglecting inner purity.

After the breaking of the bread to feed the multitudes, Jesus warns the disciples to stay away from the yeast of the Pharisees and that of Herod. Failing to be in the inside and in the know, the disciples are confused as to what this means and discuss the subject among themselves. Jesus is even more frustrated that after he explains a bit more, they still do not understand.

A key moment of pride for the Apostle Peter is when Jesus asks him who He is and Peter correctly answers, ¨the Christ¨(Mark 8:29). This shows the implantation of divine wisdom into a genuine insider.
In line with the strength of the insiders, Jesus reveals himself more fully in a Transfiguration to Peter, James, and John.

But soon the Apostles fail Jesus when they later argue about who is going to be greatest in the Kingdom of God. Jesus kindly rebukes that one must be like a pure insider, like a child, to enter most fully into God´s favor. Welcoming a child in Jesus name is one major key.

The Apostles again goof up and become closer to outsiders because they think they are the only people allowed to be in the real in. There is another man driving out demon´s in Jesus name, and the Apostles were jealous. Jesus reminds them that the Kingdom of God is larger than what man conceives.

Another sticking point revolved around the laws of marriage. Some of the Pharisees wanted to be able to divorce their ´unpleasing´ wives by twisting the Scripture. Jesus  elaborates that it was only because of the hardness of your ancestors´ hearts that Moses permitted divorce. This division continues on about many different topics.

The denying of Christ three times by Peter is a sad, but humble reminder to all Christians about how easy it is to fall out of being on the inside.

The pinnacle of the Crucifixion story presents strikingly obvious signs of who is on what side along with less obvious asides, such as different guards seeing Jesus as Divine or Pontus Pilate ´washing´ the blood from his hands.

A wrap up of themes is well left in the hands of experts. Scholar Stephen Harris said,

¨From his mother and brothers to his most intimate followers, Mark portrays all of Jesus´ companions as oblivious to his real nature and/or the obstacles to his work. Mark´s Gospel consistently renders all of Jesus´ Palestinian associates as incredibly obtuse, unable to grasp his teachings, and blind to his value¨(Harris 129).

Since this seems true, how much more so does Jesus get frustrated with those that are clearly against Him. Mark shows that even those that were supposed to be on the inside, were often confused and left out in the dark.

Theologian R.T. France confirms this major thread of insider and outsider by citing a certain story as a general example of the whole Gospel.

He said,
Mark has told us of the enthusiastic and widespread popular response, and of the large crowds following Jesus, but he has also taken care to chart the beginning of suspicion and outright opposition, culminating in a decision to get rid of him¨(France 156).

The major question remaining is where one should stand in relation to Jesus. Being outside of his reach does not seem safe, but being within his grasp leads to radical living for which one must be prepared to be split from even one´s family. Inside or outside?

Works Cited
France, R. T. The Gospel of Mark New International Commentary on the Greek Testament (New International Greek Testament Commentary). Boston: Wm. B. Eerdmans Company, 2002.

Harris, Stephen L. The New Testament: A Student´s Introduction. New York: McGraw Hill, 2009.

NIV rainbow study Bible Holy Bible, New International Version. El Reno, OK: Rainbow Studies, 1992.

Nonfiction: Place Writing: Wolf River Rafting Review<> A Sheep in Wolves Clothing<>A River Runs Through It

Bright and early, the seniors arise to make their way to one of two buses. As people assemble, they dump their stuff into an unruly pile. The announcement is made and we all pack our belongings into the bottom of the bus and climb aboard. Mysteriously, the senior prefects stroll into the middle of the aisle and whisper that, If anybody has any contraband items, that they will dispose of them and nothing will be said.  After half-heartedly checking our persons, they exit and peruse our full gear. Most of us are embarrassed that other people are going through our underwear; others might have been worried for different reasons. Nothing appears to turn up.

The female bus driver decides to turn the radio volume to an almost uncomfortable level. I find this rude as one third of the seniors are sleeping, the other third listening to music, and the last third either reading or day dreaming. Nobody wants to be bothered by noise. I ask \"Can we just skip the radio?\" The driver replies with an emphatic \"No!\" This makes me a little pissed off, but I grit my teeth and take it. After a couple of hours chatting with Puls and Butke about movies, art, and pop culture, I am ready to get my feet on the ground. It is only a few more miles of waggly road to Gardner Dam, a Boy Scout camp I stayed at when I was younger.

Jumping off the bus, we receive our cabin assignments, drop off our stuff, pick up a bag lunch, and step back on the bus. A few round about turns and we arrive at the rafting company. The mass of seniors pair up and crowd around the instructors. Taking the lead with Shihab, we manage a good start.
The river is low, at less than a foot in some areas. Even in the deeper areas, tall rocks block your passage. The rafting is more out-of-the-boat-pushing, than in-the-raft-paddling. Handfuls of Seniors endure cuts, bruises, and scrapes from the boulders.

Supposedly, our path is 6 miles long at an estimated 4 hours. Around the 3rd hour, Mac is hungry and I am thirsty. Having brought some of his lunch along, Shihab grabs a sandwich and hands me an orange. Feeling dehydrated, I thank the orange for being my savior. Not missing a beat, Mac calls it my Jesus Orange. He also named our paddles; ask him for details.

With our last ounce of energy, we make it to the ending pier, climb up a slope, and impatiently wait at the top for the rest of the class. The mosquitoes found us; no explanation needed. I small talk with Ms. Moe, but when Ms. Alpaugh and Dr. Lake return in the van and bring strawberry and chocolate ice cream, generously scooped out by Shihab and ~Spelling~ Bardlemier, the talking ends and the face feeding begins.

After boarding the buses, all the Seniors have to wait for Mr. Osvald and Mr. Dore to get off the river. We head back to camp, arrive, and decide what to do next. Some Seniors remain in their swim gear and head out to the pond, perching on a rock as if sea gulls. Others change into dry clothes. I take this opportunity to interview a few Seniors.

Jill Neitzel declares that \"rafting with the awesome Lark Jackson\" was the best part of the trip.  With glee, Mary Miller replies that \"Me [sic] and Katie Shank are the best rafters ever!\" The One and Only Animwaa Sampong offers that \"[The trip] was a great experience for the Senior Class to bond..but the distance [of the river] was too long...[although] the surroundings are beautiful and very peaceful...a perfect place to get away...\"

When asked if there is anything he would change about the trip, Phil Swain replied, \"not at all...I think it was a good way for people to get closer together...[because] people in the boats have to save each other.\" After prodding by Miller, Phil decides that there is one change to be made. Desiring to  eat S'Mores later, Phil pleads for vegetarian marshmallows, because the regular ones have gelatin that comes from horse hooves. [ http://fitsugar.com/84889 verifies that gelatin is made from animal byproducts.]

After hanging around, dinner preparations begin. The famous Senior dinner of grilled steaks and baked potatoes commences, and people become ravenous wolves, attacking their steak as if it were live prey. After clean up and the setting of the sun, groups wander off into the darkness in search of adventure. Most head left, while Puls, Butke, Shihab, and I head right. Already having been at this camp, I take them to a well hidden amphitheater. Sitting on the steps, we play the story came. Starting off with a scorpion as the main character, the cast soon includes unicorns and angels. Ever full of philosophy, Puls pulls out the Scholastic question of “How many angels can fit on the head of a pin?” Hiking back toward camp, we come to the end and find a couple starting toward us. I creep low in the bushes, spring up, and growl like a rabid werewolf angry at the moon. The girl hides behind her boy friend and we slide back to the main area of camp.

The bonfire, from Middle English banefire (1483), originally a fire in which bones were burned, has begun (www.etymonline.com). Teachers and students gather around to roast marshmallows and Christine Pryme roasts carrots. After a gluttonous affair with S'Mores, Shihab's first time eating roasted marshmallows, groups sporadically leave the bonfire. Mr. Osvald and Edgar remain debating over the dress code and Cassie McLeod stays to articulate opinions on “Race” with Ms. Alpaugh and Dr. Lake. I leave to find out what happened to everybody else and find Burtis, Corbin, and a few others lying on the grass, gazing at the stars.

Returning to the fire, I expect to find Cassie M. and Edgar E. still there; Instead, I find Alpaugh and Lake. I chat for a bit, yawn, and then bedtime dawns, so I head to the cabin.
Once in my sleeping bag, I wait for a rowdy crowd of guys to finish their card games. {Schaalma!}Within a minute of the lights being out, the giant begins to saw redwoods. Mr. Osvald bursts our ear drums with his thunderous sleep-snorting, or snoring. Being asleep, Osvald doesn't  hear the guys swear at him, threaten to smoother him, or wonder if they could stick tissue up his nose. The next morning, in reference to Mr. Osvald's snoring, Alejandro De La Rosa remarked \"It was pretty much like an earthquake!\"

[Lucky for me, I drowned out the snoring with ear plugs my mother packed. I advise ALL future rafters to bring ear plugs.]

Awaking around 6:45, I sneak into the bathroom, wash my hair, put in my contacts, and dress. Getting permission to hike around camp, I journey and discover pheasants, chipmunks, a deer, and various flora.  After my hike, I return for a scrumptious breakfast of pancakes and sausage.

Afterward, my chore is to make the sandwich lunches for the way home. Dr. Lake and Ms. Hutchison manage the ham and turkey, and the PB&J is produced in assembly line fashion. Ready to return home, everybody grabs two sandwiches, waits for the buses, and then board to settle in for the ride. On the way home, the bus driver or the GPS becomes momentarily disoriented, causing us to detour. Mr. Osvald and Mr. Nelson save the day by reading a good 'ole paper map.
Once back at Wayland, people wander off....

My RA Essay Question Responses

1. A Resident Assistant is a jack-of-all-trades. They are a leader, a friend, a counselor, and an authority figure, among other job responsibilities. As a director, an RA organizes events for his residents to attend, and models good behavior for all. As a companion, an RA befriends his residents, chills out with them, and takes an interest in their lives. As a mentor, an RA guides and advises his residents in matters of personal concern. As a disciplinarian, an RA informs his residents of the rules, warns them if they are breaking said rules, and then takes punitive measures to correct behavior. All together, an RA makes the college a safer, happier, and healthier place to live.

2. My future will be vastly improved from the experience of being an RA. I will go through personal transformation and become a fuller, deeper, and better-rounded individual. I will better be able to influence the wider world for good because of the practice I obtained from forming harmony among my floor.

I look forward to acquiring multiple skills. Through organizing floor activities and coordinating schedules of residents so that they are able to attend said events, I hope to learn organizational and time management abilities. While directing the event, I will learn interpersonal skills, as I work to integrate the residents into a close-knit community. In this process of integration, I will discover the talent of truly listening and effectively speaking. All of these talents will be used in every aspects of life, from the boardroom to the courtroom, from living with my family to interacting with colleagues.

3. Programming is one of the main components of being an RA, and thus takes a central role in all aspects of the job. Activities are created in order to expand the horizons of residents and give them something worthwhile to participate in. I would start the programming schedule by talking to my residents to see what types of recreation and volunteer services they would enjoy participating in. Activities should be based on the desires of the residents, and not on the whims of the RA. As the coordinator, I would suggest events and brainstorm ideas with the residents.

Effective activities of which I am aware or dream of doing include food and movies, athletic event attendance, working at a soup kitchen, burning calories by playing an outdoor sport, and competing in a board or card game tournament, among other limitless possibilities.

As a former resident of Ross Heintzkill, I would love to carry on the tradition of having NerfGun wars throughout the building, pending, of course, on approval.

I hope residents would take away the values of good-clean fun, serving those who need help, and interacting with others in constructive and meaningful ways.

4. Ripon College students struggle with the demands and pressures of everyday life, creating stress and anxiety. These negative emotions and physical reactions must be acknowledged and treated accordingly. I would work with my residents to instill in them the skills necessary to face life with a sense of serenity. Relaxation techniques, personal management ideas, and talk therapy would be used to calm those who are on edge. I would encourage residents to confront their stressors instead of trying to avoid them, and I would support them in areas in which they are over-extended. If they are struggling with math homework, I would help arrange for them to get a tutor or go with them to the CLC.

Nonfiction Writing: Family Member Memory, My Dad

My dad has a bushy mustache and a bountiful beard, but nothing compared to that of a Jewish Rabbi. His beard symbolizes many aspects of his identity to me. The childhood sensation of brushing up against his bristles is a poignant memory of his outward display of masculinity. When a preteen, and even as a teenager, I wondered when I was going to get facial hair.

Even now, at nineteen years old, I don’t have enough growth to make either a beard or a moustache. I don’t even have stubble all over the sides of my face like some of my friends. This competition reminds me that I strive to be like my dad, but at the same time feel like I can never live up to his expectations. In my head, I know this is completely false and that he is extremely proud of me; in my heart, I feel that I will never be the type of man he is currently.

His moustache is a disguise he wears to hide his face and emotions from the rest of the world. His beard is a sign of his wisdom and vast knowledge. Together, these symbolize his ruggedness and extreme, intense work ethic. I feel as lazy as a slug compared to all the effort he puts in to running the family business. When procrastinating on my homework, I feel guilt at my lack of motivation and perspiration. My dad is not afraid to break a sweat.

A more light-hearted aspect of his hair is that food gets trapped there when he is eating. He always jokes that he is saving the crumbs for later.
I wonder if my mom enjoys kissing his lips through the mass of pointy, sharp hair. He would be much easier to kiss if his mouth was not hidden away.

All in all, I hope to someday have a face full of hair that can compare with my dad. I am most curious as to what I would look like with any arrangement of ‘masculinity’ upon my face. As of now, I am incomplete. I do not have the types of outward displays of manhood that my dad presents. I must find a way to show who I am without hair in the proper places. Sadly enough, I do not even have much hair in my armpits. I have a few hairs on my chest, but they are hardly worth noting. At least I do have those few hairs in those few places. I guess I just have to be happy with what I have, and rejoice in surprise when I am gifted with more. I can only wait in persistent anticipation. When will the hair grow?  

Fiction: All in Dialogue

“Kelly, I feel horrible that we went through with this.”
“There was no other way to handle the situation.”
“But, but…”
“Blake. You know it had to be done. Molly couldn’t go on by herself anymore.”
“We could have at least given her a proper funeral.”
“We did the best thing we could for her.”
“I don’t agree, Kelly. We did an awful, dirty, horrible, wretched thing to Molly.”
“Oh, Blake, we loved Molly, and that is all that matters.”
“We didn’t show her true love by getting rid of her the way we did. Nobody deserves extermination like that. I wouldn’t even wish that type of death upon my worst enemy.”
“This is the natural way to eliminate someone like Molly from our lives. Molly was starting to take too much of our time. We couldn’t afford to keep feeding her. We couldn’t afford to keep her in a clean environment.”
“Those are just minor things. The situation could have gotten better.”
“She was deathly sick, Blake. This is the way heaven ordained for us to say goodbye to her.”
“I just don’t see how pulling the trigger was the way to go.”
“Trust me; we had to flush the toilet.”

Affirmative Position

Anyone that has ever played the game of “Telephone” knows that a message passed on from person to person never stays the same, but can even change dramatically. In the same way, the New Testament was unreliably formed, mistakenly copied and randomly gathered together. There is no way to be certain that any of the writings about Jesus we have today have any connection to the historical Jesus. Two thousand years passing is a long time to keep a pristine record.

First off, unreliable men penned the New Covenant. The books did not just fall from heaven, perfectly inscribed by the hand of God. Fallible men were the imperfect tool that God chose to use in the writing of ‘His’ book. Even so, “No original author’s copies of any New Testament books have yet come to light”(26). Furthermore, at any time, the authors and the copyists could and did put their opinions down in the text.

Escaping personal bias and perception is a nearly impossible task for any religious fellow. Spiritual reality is not the same as scientific certainty; we know that DNA forms the human body, but we can’t be sure that heaven or hell exists, in the same way we can’t be sure of the accuracy of the Bible. Some stories of the Bible could have come directly from the dreams of men. The writer of Genesis must have had fun with the story of a talking snake persuading a woman to eat some fruit and the author of the book of Revelation, according to a documentary (of which I can’t remember the name), could possibly have been using hallucinogenic mushrooms when he wrote the text. Even the early church leaders had a hard time accepting this apocalyptic letter because of its wild visions and predictions.

Secondly, the New Canon was passed down by imperfect copying. “No two ancient Greek manuscripts of New Testament books are precisely alike”(28). Since exact forms of reproduction were not possible, the church had to make do with rewritten writings. Monks were the main keepers of the text, and their job duties included the making of new copies of the text. While doing this task, the monk could easily rewrite portions to fit in with the churches current theological understanding, basing this on the fact of ‘progressive revelation’. Monks were often underfed and tired from their labors; hungry stomachs and exhausted minds easily contributed to distraction and accidental typos that through the centuries became even more glaring errors.

Thirdly, men who did not even experience Jesus first hand were the arbiters of which books were to be considered orthodox. One disturbing fact is that numerous different writings, often in disagreement with each other, were among the pool from which the Canon was to be ratified. “A large number of Gospels, all purporting to represent Jesus’ authentic teachings, had also been composed”(23). Why some books made it and others didn’t, one can’t be certain. Even the men who wrote the texts did so some time after their encounters with Jesus, thus allowing for fragmented and embellished slips of memory to fall into their documentation.

All in all, a reader of today has no certainty that what he thinks Jesus said was actually what he said. The red letters in our Bible might only be the words of John, Matthew, Mark, and Luke. Maybe these guys just got together and decided what type of religion they wanted to create. These apostles might even have just used the writings of someone else off of which to base their own writings. Readers beware of the traditions of men that have crept into the sacred canon. Scholarship is a helpful remedy for the dire situation. Careful study is needed to reproduce the most probable form of what Jesus said. After all, what would Jesus say?

Fiction Writing: Iceberg

Billy wanted just one more jelly-infused donut. That was all. He was not asking for another pizza; he had already consumed 12 slices of sausage and mushroom. Presently at a restaurant, Billy was asking for more food, but the waiter refused to get him anymore. He just wanted dessert. How hard would it be for the waiter to go to the front desk and get a fried piece of dough out of the display cabinet? Could the waiter not afford to burn those calories? Billy just couldn’t take it anymore. Just because he was fat, people did not have the right to limit his food intake. This was one thing when it was his mother refusing him another chunk of brownie batter, but quite another when strangers refused to feed him when he was PAYING for the food. How could these people possibly override his free will to stuff his face as full as he wanted?
  
The waiter returned to Billy’s table with one hand full and the other empty. The package was a bill, and not the greasy goodness Billy was hoping for. This was the last time. Billy had had enough.

  
¨Everyone in this restaurant, listen up, the heavy weight is speaking.¨ All eyes careened from their natural position and rested on different areas of Billy´s body. One guy was staring at the multiple folds of Billy´s neck. A woman was looking at the gut that was hanging out from underneath Billy´s small shirt. The protrusion was sickening. White, whale fat would have looked appetizing compared to the blubber roll showcased to Ella´s diner.
  
¨I am fed up with all of you all telling me how to live my life. I chose my own destiny. I refuse to be controlled by you bumbling fools. You are the problem. My obesity has nothing to do with the issues here at hand. Just because I might be classified by my doctor in a category of morbidity, does not give you permission to ruin my emotional life by stamping on my feelings.¨
  
Billy waddled out of the diner, flagged down a taxi, and was dropped off at his house. Once inside, Billy shuffled over to his fridge to find that leftover bacon from his morning meal. Six fine pieces remained. Billy sat down at his kitchen table, the chair creaking at the sudden onset of weight. Billy´s mind mused about his condition. Who was he to deny that he could die any day because of the extra person he carried around with him? If it wasn’t the diabetes or the physical over-exertion from just walking around that was going to kill him, it would just be some other mundane death. He might as well go out of this world with pleasure ringing from his palate.
  
The first strip had been guzzled down along with a swig of eggnog. The second was soon to follow. Nearing the fifth piece, Billy noticed the skinny mailwoman plop a envelope in his box. This was most surprising. So stunning, in fact, that Billy started choking on his bacon. The whole piece had become lodged in his throat. Flashes of slim images of himself raced through his mind. That was the dream, this was the reality. Billy was going to die from the very item that gave him the most pleasure, and the most pain, in life. The pig died from a portion of pig.

 Billy wanted just one more jelly-infused donut. That was all. He was not asking for another pizza; he had already consumed 12 slices of sausage and mushroom. Presently at a restaurant, Billy was asking for more food, but the waiter refused to get him anymore. He just wanted dessert. How hard would it be for the waiter to go to the front desk and get a fried piece of dough out of the display cabinet? Could the waiter not afford to burn those calories? Billy just couldn’t take it anymore. Just because he was fat, people did not have the right to limit his food intake.

Nonfiction: Childhood Recollections

When thinking of my early years, my thoughts drift back to my neighborhood and all the friends there. Next door to me was a kid named Mark, who was, and still is, four years older and so much cooler than me. I wanted, and still want, to be like him.

At some point, he went through the ranks of karate to become a black belt and all of us younger kids, who I will get to in a moment, emulated him and wished to be able to defend ourselves like he could with twirling kicks and punishing jabs.

One sunny day he showcased his power kicks and we all oohed and awed in amazement. He twisted and jumped around in his yard, showing his power and control.

Mark also invented board games for us ‘little’ kids to play. I remember him designing a pinball machine with leftover Legos and other odds and ends glued on or nailed to a piece of plywood. Little, plastic, yellow paddles on the end were used to hit a metal marble up the inclined board, causing wheels to spin and the ball to bounce off of rubber bands. This silly contraption kept us entertained for hours on end.
Mark was also a mountain climber, thus he had lots of climbing gear. One day, Michelle, Chris, and my sister Sarah went over to his house and found ourselves introduced to a wooden chair next to a pile of hundred feet long rope. The object of the game was to tie up one person to the chair and see if they could get out in certain amount of time. If child services knew about this type of activity, they would completely freak out. We caused our fingers and toes to turn purple and white from the lack of blood circulation.

Eventually, we realized that this was not the most intelligent way to spend our time. Instead, we would go over to the Havey household, the residence of stocky boy Chris and gentle girl Mel. The complete gang would go to their house to play a game we called Bears and Indians. In this game, we split into two groups, and one group uses a ball, (read: arrow), and the other group uses their hands, (read: claws), to tag the other team and make them go to jail. This arrangement provided for endless variety and much enjoyment in our early lives as we practiced strategy and foresight and planning and negotiation.

Another memory surfaces in my mind about the time we built a teepee out in a wooded area next to my house and wanted to sleep in it overnight. Sadly, because of our fear of the dark and the nuisance of all the mosquitoes in the area, that never happened.

Out of the whole Native American stage, my love of vegetable growing began when we planted a Three Sisters Garden of squash, beans and corn out in the property owned by the Pepsi Cola Company. To my dismay, weeds took complete control of this operation. Yet, from this beginning, we kids did continue to grow a garden from which we took produce to sell around our neighborhood. Our little red wagon was used to haul bagged radishes and carrots down the streets. We even got the mail man to buy some greens.

I wish there were some grand, central theme giving meaning to all these events, but it seems that the randomness of childhood is best explained by a chaotic recollection of the past. Life, for a child, is not a boring, linear history, but spurts of fun and monotony, with the meaningless stuff drifting into oblivion, leaving us with long-lasting happy memories.

When thinking of my early years, my thoughts drift back to my neighborhood and all the friends there. Next door to me was a kid named Mark, who was, and still is, four years older and so much cooler than me. I wanted, and still want, to be like him.

At some point, he went through the ranks of karate to become a black belt and all of us younger kids, who I will get to in a moment, emulated him and wished to be able to defend ourselves like he could with twirling kicks and punishing jabs.

Nonfiction Cards

On a boring Sunday evening, during a last minute retreat from homework, a random assortment of four people gather together to play a game of cards. Nick and Grif live next door to each other in college. Joe, Laura, and Nick know each other from their childhood. The adolescent friends, hereafter referred to as the three, do not know the proper way to carry out social interactions with Grif because he is a socially awkward teenager; this providing the ensuing difficulties.

   While the three guys are arguing about how to play, Laura discreetly whips out her cell phone and starts texting a mysterious other. Joe wonders if Nick wants to help him out, but Nick flatly refuses to help Joe, the gangster. The tide turns when Nick wants help from Joe. A courtesy round is demanded but rejected. Nick is distressed. Joe counts up his points and glories in his win.

The game now advances to Spades. Grif doesn´t like the word ´booking´ and mocks Nick for saying it over and over again while Nick is trying to explain the game to Grif. Nick begs for Joe to show him his hand and Joe says, ´yes,´ but Nick then retracts his desire. Neither player succumbs to showing their cards. Grif now gets in a heated argument with Nick for not explaining the rules properly. Grif is ready to blow-up with frustration, but Nick calms the newbie down. Grif´s voice grows louder and deeper while he puzzles over what is going on. Laura is back on her cell phone because she does not want to have to put up with Grif. Nick now tells Grif what he should do, but Grif whines that Nick is just making up the rules as they go along.

   Another round begins, and Laura announces, ´All aboard the fail train.´ Grif complains that Nick´s expectations for his speed of learning are too hopeful. Grif just can´t learn that fast. Grif laughs when he draws a good card, and Joe shouts, ´It´s a niner.´ Nick goes back to counting up the score while Grif yawns in desperation. Nick then reassures Grif that he isn´t failing as bad as he thinks.

   The game ends when the three can no longer put up with Grif. They exit and leave Grif sitting there looking bewildered. Realizing his fate, Grif marches back to his room to listen to some Germanic music.