Category: Southwest in the Northwest

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Literary Sketchbook: The Island

Most certainly influenced by the Decemberists’ “The Island”. And Lemony Snicket’s The End. And my recent surge in fascination with pirates. I blame this on all of them.

Somewhere, in the middle of a black ocean under a black sky, an island slept, the sands of its shallow shores gently caressed by the unceasing tides. Above, in shadowy heavens, the stark face of the moon cast a pale luminescence upon the beach. The waves swept the sands with soft hushes. The breath of the light tropical breeze quietly rustled the leaves of the palms. An air of serenity laid over the island, as if it had never known disturbance and never would.

There were no people on the island. There had been before, however; castaways were no strangers to its shores. Some of them had managed to survive, leaving nothing but footprints on the isle. Others left much more, never seeing their families or homes again. Many had gone mad and killed themselves, either by the noose, by diving off the cliff, or, if they had been lucky, with a pistol. In the end, their remembrances quickly vanished, consumed by natural forces– footprints blew away and corpses were claimed by the earth.

The empty island slumbered. The many exotic birds that lived in the jungle dozed on their perches, their heads tucked into their wings. Sleep caught the few mammals that lived on the island, quietly pulling them into its grasp. Another breeze stirred the palm trees, shaded black with night’s brush. The waves rolled in, splashing the shore. The waves receded, leaving pinpoints of seawater glistening in the moonlight. The waves rolled in, and placed upon the beach a large wooden chest, along with the unconscious man clinging desperately to it.

Schedule?

  1. Honors English 10 – Hammonds
  2. Honors Physics – Reynolds
  3. Japanese 3-4 – ?
  4. Health 2 – Hill
  5. Chamber Orchestra – Stone
  6. Future Focus – Arend
  7. Pre-Calculus – Stidham
  8. Illustrations – Telesmanich

What’s wrong with this picture? Take a look. A good look. Something’s missing.

If you picked “Acting”, you’re absolutely right.

Linguistic Idiocy

 

Stale Content Alert!

This post was written a long time ago, and my views have almost certainly evolved since then. Please keep that in mind while reading, commenting, or sharing.

Alright, this has gone on long enough now. It’s time for me to address something that’s bugged me and many others for a long time. There is no excuse for it, and it only continues because people are being apathetic.

The problem is the continual degradation of the English language, and it’s a problem indeed.

If you’ve ever been on the Internet, you know what I’m talking about. You see it everywhere, in e-mails and instant messages, on forums and webpages alike. It’s also plenty prevalent in the non-virtual world, where people are perfectly content to flaunt their pathetically childish grammar.

Chances are, you’re probably guilty of a couple of these things. Almost everyone does at least one or two.

Stop it.

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All Fired Up

 

Stale Content Alert!

This post was written a long time ago, and my views have almost certainly evolved since then. Please keep that in mind while reading, commenting, or sharing.

Spencer’s really pretty fired up right now, if you’ll pardon the pun.

The topic of the day? Flag burning, and the people who are trying to put a Constitutional end to it.

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Ten Miles on a Bicycle

 

Stale Content Alert!

This post was written a long time ago, and my views have almost certainly evolved since then. Please keep that in mind while reading, commenting, or sharing.

I slugged through breakfast this morning half-awake, anticipating a nice chance for extra rest after my younger brother and dad left. Instead, I found myself becoming more alive in the shower, watching the concept of a nice, peaceful nap slip down the drain. Oh well, I thought, a peaceful shower’s okay too.

I didn’t get that either. My dad called me in the middle of my shower. I begrudgingly turned the water off, wove a towel around my waist, and answered the phone. As it turned out, my younger brother wasn’t registered for the summer daycare program today, and so the only way he could get in would be if there were any cancellations. They were heading home to wait for word of vacancies.

It wasn’t even eight o’ clock yet, and my day was looking like a bad one.

I schlepped back into the shower, thinking of all the things I wouldn’t be able to do if my brother and dad stayed home all day. Finishing, I dressed, spiked my hair, and took the five steps to my computer.

Within an hour, there was a cancellation, and so the two extra bodies in the house were out the door.

I had to go get music for my violin, so I hopped on my bike and headed down the highway to the music shop. After purchasing the book, I decided to take a long way home, and rode a loop back to my house.

The ride itself was enjoyable, and rather uneventful. No psychotic maniacs running after me, throwing knives; no squirrels dashing under my wheel. For the most of the ride, I contemplated the feeling of joy I got yesterday after learning that the girl I’ve had a crush on for the last six months also liked me. While it was a rather childish reason to be overjoyed, it’s a rare one, and so I’m attempting to remember it before it fades.

By the time I was nearly three-fourths of the way home, my legs were aching like crazy, and my mouth was getting sticky from lack of moisture. I managed to pull myself home, opened the door, and made a beeline towards the fridge, where I poured and immediately downed a glass of cold, fresh water.

Upstairs, on my computer, I Mapquest’d my route, piece by piece, and found that it came to about 9.48 miles– which I rounded to 10. I thought I had a good reason to be exhausted, seeing as I’d averaged about a pace of 10-15 mph.

I unceremoniously spent the rest of the day scheming a poster for my local highschool’s mafia, and surfing the web. While my day had started off looking a bit unfriendly, it worked itself out by midafternoon.

Bleh. Awful entry. Oh well.

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