Monday, March 28, 2005
Descriptive Essay - Matt Hirdes
The snow drifts down from a murky sky covering the wintery landscape, making it hard to believe that it is already teh second week of March, although we are in Michigan. The minute flakes float through the air, finally resting on the ground forming an intricate pattern. How can a cloudless sky produce such an assortment of powder? It blankets everything in sight. Circling around and around in the blundering wind. The flithy landscape becomes a shade of almost pure white, beautifying the filth of the leftover fallen leaves. Reworking the landscape into a new pristien look of innocence.
Response to Dillard
In the spirit of Thoreau at Walden, Annie Dillard has a mystifying ability to extract the extraordinary out of almost anything. Dillard writes about her experiences living at Tinker Creek. There is nothing spectacular about this place, but Dillard’s words make it seem majestic in its tranquility. She is able to find endless writing material on simple walks through the woods. An example is her deluge into the essence of life after observing a frog literally have its life sucked from it while a bug grasped it from below. That is an interesting thing to see no matter who you are, but still, Annie’s style brings it all out so much more. She never allowed herself to think about anything without finding some sort of huge significance within it, and she does it well. What would seem like a collection of writings about over-thinking everything her eye gets caught upon, instead becomes an insight into the mind and spirituality.
The Bees…
I have hated bees my whole life. There are numerous situations in my childhood that prove this. The first experience I can possibly remember about bees is watching my sister run for her dear life and jump in our swimming pool from a bee. My thoughts must have been something like, “That’s the worst thing in the world! Don’t ever want to get stung by one of those!” From there on out I was done even seeing a bee. The worst part was that my friends became friends with the bee. It was like I was the only person the bees wanted. My friends would always just walk up to a bee and BAM! The bee is gone. Lucas, on the other hand, decides to run for dear life. I also had asthma, so if you can picture a little boy with glasses running for dear life and then stopping to get a few puffs from his inhaler, then you know me as a boy. Yes, I was a nerd. I suppose I can partially blame my sister for this, but I suppose I fit the stereotypical nerd. At least I had a lot of friends.
Sunday, March 27, 2005
Deceitful and Dangerous: Snow
I open my eyes and I see only a blur. I rub them to force them into focus, and then realizing they already are in focus. It is back, ths is once again casting a cloud over my vision and heart. Children love snow, for them, snow is synominous with “Snow Day.” They cannot see the snow as I do; I know that its white, innocent, fluffy appearance in only a disguise for what is actually taking place. The trees have already prepared for ther wretched winter months. Those tha can, keep their foilage and stand defiantly against the snow that pours from the heavens. Those trees that could not hold onto their green wrappings, stand naked waiting to be inspected and judged each and every day. Each day they are tested whether or not they are strong enough to last through to the next day. The people are similar. They walk through the treacherous snow, not a single smile can be afforded. They are too busy holding onto their woollen scarfs, though it matters little for the snow brings the cold. That cold penetrates through every layer until it reaches through to our inner most being. Not ceasing until it reaches the very marrow of us. The icy wind teases at the flaps of our coats, meanwhile the snow continues to paint us with its poisonous whiteness. Outside is so bright yet none of the brillance from even a single sunray can break its way through the thick, suffocating clouds. Perhaps winter will end and the snow will leave but if it does, I know this much, the snow will give all the fight it can to stay for as long as seasonally possible. This is the bleak picture I see before me. I will hope to see you all when life begins and Spring finals wins and kicks the last stubborn snow piles back up north.
Saturday, March 26, 2005
descriptive assignment- Allison K.
I look out at the parking lot with its rows of cars and I can not help but think about what used to be there before they decided to put that slab of tar there. I can see eight rows of cars. Each row is different with its different sizes, shapes, and colors of each car. And as I am watching more cars are coming and going.
Friday, March 25, 2005
The Beauty of Nature - Jamie
In “Pilgrim at Tinker Creek” by Annie Dillard we are painted an extraordinary scene of nature. Her descriptive chose of words she uses keeps the reader in tact as the sail through the article. Dillard describes nature that surrounds her at Tinker and Carvin’s creeks. Her most descriptive part of the article that caught my attention was her meeting with a frog. The frog was very small, but the way she portrayed the frog with its collapsing skull to her comparison of it to a football kept me locked the whole time while reading. Dillard continues to illustrate the nature around her.
Descriptive Essay - Jamie
The tree knew it was March and that the vibrant days of Spring were just around the corner. The tree couldn’t wait for the soft, green buds to form on its phalange-like branches and for bireds to rest their weary legs and sing their enchanting melodies on its branches. As for now, the tree had to settle on the dull, grey snowy days in March. It had to be content with the fluttering snow and wait paitently for the bright, shining sunbeams from the sun.
Thursday, March 24, 2005
Descriptive Essay-Drew
A great plane of solid grey is stretched against the back of the sky. The grey seems not content to remain within limits and strives to make everything also its boundaries grey as well. As a result is makes everything on the ground tinged with grey or perhaps that is due to the snow-covered parking lot and snow covered cars and snow-covered bushes. But as I look across the parking lot, right outside the window, I see splashes of yellow, red , and aqua-green. These dashes seem so unnatural maybe because they are not natural produced in some down town factory in Detroit. But then again what is natural? These objects may be a sore to the eye and may be tired of the many names others call them, but at least they are close to home, only a few miles from where they were birth. But, the people inside them are natural compared to the metal that encases them, they radiant with warmth, the only object giving warmth in such a cold environment, but I like to think it is more than that hot cup of coffee in their hands that is giving this place its heat. After looking at the scene in front of me for awhile, I came to the conclusion that snow is a curse, covering everything with one bland color just like the plane of sky. Think about it, would you like to live and move in a world of only one color. I think not and perhaps God thought the same thing.
Response-“Give Casey Martin a Lift”
Alison wrote about the article “Giving Casey Martin a Lift” in her journal entry and I found that her quote spoke very true in how I feel about how the PGA has treated Casey Martin. The quote was “Shame on every greedy Tour pro who won’t budge an inch of tradition to fit in a spoonful of compassion.” She believes that the executives of the PGA would act differently if one of their friends were injured like Mr. Martin, it is my belief also that they would give them the necessary items to let them continue playing golf. The sport seems very rigid on their tradition in the professional level.
Descriptive Essay-Tyler
As I watched an ambulance drive speedily down the East Beltline, the word life is printed on the side. There is life traveling roughly 60 mph on the beltline that may never meet the other ant trudging through the two-lane tunnel toward their king or queen ant as we like to call them “Bosses”. I sporadically see life walking under the bridge that is engulfed by small hills with green blades of grass poking through the snow, begging for sping. On this day I disagree with the pleading grassroots, for I enjoy seeing the finger-width snowflakes, manipulated by the changing wind, ever so softly hitting the ground to cover the grass once more. Away from the road everything is still sleeping…
Descripitve Writing Exercise-Dave
Rows of coniferous red bushes are perched next to the building. Leaves, leftover from the fall, cling to the empty branches. These leaves do not belong to the bush, but the bush still gathers them in. Without the leaves the red arms of the bush would look scraggily, and out of place. Without the bush the leaves would be non-existent, mulch for someone’s spring time garden.
Typo Awards Standings - March
Here are the Typo Awards Standings as of spring break. As we would say if we were watching the Kentucky Derby, it’s shaping up to be a two-horse race.
typos-points name
32-56 Cara D.
26-43 Stephanie W.
06-12 Tyler H.
06-12 Dave K.
04-08 Tim H.
Here are some of the errors these and other students have found ...
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Using “I think” in academic writing
I posted this last month at KnightVision, but I thought I’d share it with our larger audience—especially now that we have comments. What are your thoughts and experiences relating to “I think”, “we can see,” “readers can conclude,” and so forth?
Should English 101 students never use “I think” or “I agree” in a paper? Should they use the editorial “we” as an alternative?
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Walden Pond
According to Lauren Winner, Henry David Thoreau, the author of Walden Pond, has two aspects to his legacy. First, he is remembered as a political activist, “advocating nonviolent resistance to civil government.” Secondly, Thoreau is considered a great nature writer and an environmentalist. However, there is one more aspect to Thoreau that is often overlooked, his spirituality and the cultivation of the self. For example, “Thoreau not only traces the history of the apple tree, he also writes lessons about good living from “hardships” the crab apple must endure to “bear a sweet fruit.” Moreover, “His natural history is also a reflection on moral formation and an environmental allegory.”
Monday, March 21, 2005
Comments Coming…
This blog is now equipped to allow comments from anyone signed in with a Calvin College user name. Keep things polite and respectful, but go to it!