Monday, November 29, 2010
Friday, November 26, 2010
Not Behind the Inhaler Pt.1
Thorough our worlds history minority groups such as African Americas have been enslaved by majority groups, this theme carries over in NightJohn by Gary Paulsen. The booming Southern economy of the 1800's thrived because of the African American work forced enslaved by plantation owners. Where the story of NightJohn takes place was not specified (to my knowledge) but it is safe to assume that it took place in the Southern regions of the United States. The story revolves around a young slave named Sarny. Sarny is curious and slightly naive, she doesn't always understand why she has to act different or why things are the way they are. Sarny's primary caregiver Mammy is always there to keep her in line. Sarny is intrigued by a new slave that is bought by her master. Night John, is introduced as a beaten looking African American. On his first night on the plantation he asks, to no one in particular, "does anyone have any tobacco? I'm willing to trade." Sarny, having tobacco wonders what this man could possibly have to trade, seeing as he was brought in stark naked. Sarny's curiosity gets the best of her and she asks John what he could possibly have to trade. Letters, he said. John unlike most slaves could read and write. Intrigued Sarny makes the trade. Tobacco for letters. The story of NightJohn also introduces you to three slaves like Sarny who were mistreated, broken and treated like Animals. Alice a day dreaming girls was dubbed a breeder by field masters who thought her lack of enthusiasm for working did them no use. Alice after being forced into the breeding shed changed. She lost her will. She wondered up to the main house knowing fully what she was about to do would get her in trouble. The master upon finding Alice lashed her in front of the whole slave community. A few days later she walked off in the middle of the night, hid down in some brush at the end of the property and basically welcomed the dogs to come and have her. She survived. Jim an older man didn't walk away with his life. After running away he grew panic stricken, out of ideas and placed to run he decided to climb a tree to avoid the dogs. Not being able to climb high enough his dangling legs were devoured by the sickly dogs, leaving a lifeless Jim hanging from a tree. And lastly we were introduced to Pawley, a love struck boy who would sneak off to meet a slave from another plantation. One night he accidentally fell asleep with the girl he loved, upon his return to the plantation (much later in the night than usual) he was intercepted by the master and his hounds. The tendon Pawley's master split in his leg for good measure went wrong and led to him bleeding out. Sarny knew that most slaves who ran away didn't make freedom, that they didn't make it North. One night Mammy finds Sarny and NightJohn during one of their learning sessions. Mammy knowing all to well what happens to slaved who begin to read and free think freaks out. Naturally Mammy is curious as to how John knows how to read and write. Both Sarny and Mammy are shocked by his answer. That he, Night John had reached freedom and had made it North. He had learned to read and write but returned to educate slaves such as Sarny. So that Sarny and other slaves stories can be heard, so that people know the truth about what really goes on. Reluctantly Mammy agrees to allow John to teach Sarny to read and write. People like NightJohn and the result of the Civil War allow us to know the truth about what really went on.
In the mid 1900's America was on the verge of a cultural revolution lead by some of this Nations most recognized and celebrated Right's Activists including MLK Jr., and Malcolm X. The passage we read from the Autobiography of Malcolm X (I believe that's what is was) was entitled "Mascot." "Mascot" took us through the early teen years of Malcom X, but more importantly shared the turning point in Malcolm's life. Malcolm was an ambitious child, he dreamed of becoming a lawyer, and was elected class president. After a run in with the law Malcolm was sent to live with a nice white couple, the Swerlin's. Unlike most of the kids the Swerlin's fostered they tried to keep Malcolm as long as possible seeing as he brought happiness to their lives. One of Malcom's relatives Ella came to visit. Ella was from Boston and encouraged Malcolm to come visit with her. So Malcolm did just that. He bought a bus ticket from Michigan to Boston and spent the summer in Boston. Malcolm loved the city but returned to Michigan for the start of the next school year. Malcolm enjoyed school, he also excelled at school. Coincidentally school is where Malcolm X's lived took a turn. Mr. Ostrowski one of Malcolm's teachers met with Malcolm to discuss his future career. Malcolm knew early on that he wanted to be a lawyer, Mr. O laughed in his face. Mr. O told Malcolm to be realistic. From that day on Malcolm was very realistic.
Like NightJohn and "Mascot," The Great Debaters is about human rights, social equality and over coming adversity. Both TGD and NJ take place in the South where racism is a very large issue. All three stories took place at different times in our Nations history. TGD's and "Mascot" being the closest of the three. Both Samantha and Malcolm aspired to be lawyers. Samantha achieved her dream unlike Malcolm. In NJ, Sarny witnessed beatings and lashings of her fellow slaves the kids in TGD's witnessed a lynch mob. In both TGD's and "Mascot" the characters can not only read and write but they're also very well educated. All three stories depict the struggles for African American rights at different times in history.
In the mid 1900's America was on the verge of a cultural revolution lead by some of this Nations most recognized and celebrated Right's Activists including MLK Jr., and Malcolm X. The passage we read from the Autobiography of Malcolm X (I believe that's what is was) was entitled "Mascot." "Mascot" took us through the early teen years of Malcom X, but more importantly shared the turning point in Malcolm's life. Malcolm was an ambitious child, he dreamed of becoming a lawyer, and was elected class president. After a run in with the law Malcolm was sent to live with a nice white couple, the Swerlin's. Unlike most of the kids the Swerlin's fostered they tried to keep Malcolm as long as possible seeing as he brought happiness to their lives. One of Malcom's relatives Ella came to visit. Ella was from Boston and encouraged Malcolm to come visit with her. So Malcolm did just that. He bought a bus ticket from Michigan to Boston and spent the summer in Boston. Malcolm loved the city but returned to Michigan for the start of the next school year. Malcolm enjoyed school, he also excelled at school. Coincidentally school is where Malcolm X's lived took a turn. Mr. Ostrowski one of Malcolm's teachers met with Malcolm to discuss his future career. Malcolm knew early on that he wanted to be a lawyer, Mr. O laughed in his face. Mr. O told Malcolm to be realistic. From that day on Malcolm was very realistic.
Like NightJohn and "Mascot," The Great Debaters is about human rights, social equality and over coming adversity. Both TGD and NJ take place in the South where racism is a very large issue. All three stories took place at different times in our Nations history. TGD's and "Mascot" being the closest of the three. Both Samantha and Malcolm aspired to be lawyers. Samantha achieved her dream unlike Malcolm. In NJ, Sarny witnessed beatings and lashings of her fellow slaves the kids in TGD's witnessed a lynch mob. In both TGD's and "Mascot" the characters can not only read and write but they're also very well educated. All three stories depict the struggles for African American rights at different times in history.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Behind the Inhaler Pt. 11
I'm writing my blog early again because I'm afraid I'll forget.
On Saturday morning I crawled out of bed at an ungodly hour to drive myself to the High School, where I then jumped on the bus to the Upper Arlington for a Speech and Debate Tournament. I love the Speech and Debate team, it's always an amazing time. The class is a blast, as are the people in it. At tournaments we always barge into an unused classroom and have "circle up." Circle up is organized chaos. All 40+ of us stand on the outsides of the room and preform our pieces, sides, and pros. It's loud, hectic, and very difficult. We then have a long tedious opening ceremony "good luck teams," "we're behind schedule," etc. and then we break off into our rounds. Individual Event'ers (I.E.'s) have three rounds (unless their is a power round, then four for the top six teams) while debaters have four rounds (five if their is a power round). Each I.E. round (I'm an I.E.'er) can last up to an hour and a half. Fortunately I'm in DUO so there's always entertainment. After our rounds the I.E.'ers (since we finish earlier) wait around for hours. At Perry it was three and a half, at Upper A. it was two and a half. We play various card games, mafia, the word story game and present small blurbs of our pieces. Finally after hours of waiting debtors return and the awards ceremony commences. Top six placers are called in each event and then awarded. My partner and I hoped to break top six. You can imagine how shocked we both were when we realized we were the last two standing in front of everyone. Just hearing "And your Duo Interp. Champions from Gahanna Lincoln are Stephanie McCann and Emily Peszlen." sent my mind into shock. It's very humbling receiving a standing ovation something I will probably never forget.
Anyway lets get into how this works into what we've done in class so far. This week we've talked about human rights. My being about as racially ambiguous as it gets have never really felt the sting of segregation or had any "rights" denied due to my background. I never know what to fill out on the sheets. White? Black? Asian? Native American? Why don't they have an all of the above option? I don't know. I am mostly Japanese believe it or not. As I get older my Native American roots seem to be dominating my genes. Any way you look at it my ancestors had to deal with human rights issues.
I like being racially ambiguous because it's incredibly difficult to pin and stereotype me. I'm Asian so naturally I should be smart, yet I have giant eyes. I'm Native American so I should be one with nature, she has the forehead but is allergic to everything outside. She's black so she should like watermelon (don't take it the wrong way, I'm just using a common stereotype) guess what she's allergic to melons.
I sometimes wonder what my ancestors would say or think if they were shown a picture of me and were told "this is the distant product of you." Strange thought isn't it? What would it be like to meet a relative who lived hundreds of years ago? Once they got over the whole culture shock thing I think it'd be very interesting. I wonder the same thing with my not so distant relative like my Grandy. I sometimes wonder if she'd like what I turned into, or if we'd still be just as close. I wonder how my great grandpa Tomojiro would think knowing that he has a great granddaughter that's not only white but American. He lived during all the American Japanese conflict. I guess I'll never know.
Me and my trophy from Speech and Debate...well a part of it. I couldn't get it to fit in the whole picture.
The upper part of the trophy and the squish ball I was also given...haha
What I see when I ride. This is Edward, he is just a little camera shy. If you're curious as to what that metal thing is than you should know that it is a hackmore. It is a bit-less band that is used with sensitive mouthed horses. Edward responds really well to a hackmore, but most people can't ride him in one seeing as he's so strong and it's not a very "quick" bit.
My riding Edward this weekend. I thought I'd share some of my riding with you all in case you were the slightest bit curious. Notice that I worked him into an amazing headset (his neck is low and his face is almost flat).
On Saturday morning I crawled out of bed at an ungodly hour to drive myself to the High School, where I then jumped on the bus to the Upper Arlington for a Speech and Debate Tournament. I love the Speech and Debate team, it's always an amazing time. The class is a blast, as are the people in it. At tournaments we always barge into an unused classroom and have "circle up." Circle up is organized chaos. All 40+ of us stand on the outsides of the room and preform our pieces, sides, and pros. It's loud, hectic, and very difficult. We then have a long tedious opening ceremony "good luck teams," "we're behind schedule," etc. and then we break off into our rounds. Individual Event'ers (I.E.'s) have three rounds (unless their is a power round, then four for the top six teams) while debaters have four rounds (five if their is a power round). Each I.E. round (I'm an I.E.'er) can last up to an hour and a half. Fortunately I'm in DUO so there's always entertainment. After our rounds the I.E.'ers (since we finish earlier) wait around for hours. At Perry it was three and a half, at Upper A. it was two and a half. We play various card games, mafia, the word story game and present small blurbs of our pieces. Finally after hours of waiting debtors return and the awards ceremony commences. Top six placers are called in each event and then awarded. My partner and I hoped to break top six. You can imagine how shocked we both were when we realized we were the last two standing in front of everyone. Just hearing "And your Duo Interp. Champions from Gahanna Lincoln are Stephanie McCann and Emily Peszlen." sent my mind into shock. It's very humbling receiving a standing ovation something I will probably never forget.
Anyway lets get into how this works into what we've done in class so far. This week we've talked about human rights. My being about as racially ambiguous as it gets have never really felt the sting of segregation or had any "rights" denied due to my background. I never know what to fill out on the sheets. White? Black? Asian? Native American? Why don't they have an all of the above option? I don't know. I am mostly Japanese believe it or not. As I get older my Native American roots seem to be dominating my genes. Any way you look at it my ancestors had to deal with human rights issues.
I like being racially ambiguous because it's incredibly difficult to pin and stereotype me. I'm Asian so naturally I should be smart, yet I have giant eyes. I'm Native American so I should be one with nature, she has the forehead but is allergic to everything outside. She's black so she should like watermelon (don't take it the wrong way, I'm just using a common stereotype) guess what she's allergic to melons.
I sometimes wonder what my ancestors would say or think if they were shown a picture of me and were told "this is the distant product of you." Strange thought isn't it? What would it be like to meet a relative who lived hundreds of years ago? Once they got over the whole culture shock thing I think it'd be very interesting. I wonder the same thing with my not so distant relative like my Grandy. I sometimes wonder if she'd like what I turned into, or if we'd still be just as close. I wonder how my great grandpa Tomojiro would think knowing that he has a great granddaughter that's not only white but American. He lived during all the American Japanese conflict. I guess I'll never know.
The upper part of the trophy and the squish ball I was also given...haha
My riding Edward this weekend. I thought I'd share some of my riding with you all in case you were the slightest bit curious. Notice that I worked him into an amazing headset (his neck is low and his face is almost flat).
Monday, November 15, 2010
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Behind the Inhaler Pt. 10
If you've ever lost someone extremely close to you then you know how it is. You tell yourself, convince yourself even that they're in a happier place, that it's for the better and you'll be together again someday, but in the back of your head you always wonder. Are they safe? Are they really still with me? Losing my Grandy was a reality check of epic proportions. Losing her made me a realist, and it made me bitter. She was my Grandy, my best friend, and my anchor. She kept me grounded.
My Grandy was diagnosed with lung cancer in the spring of 2007. My parents knowing I would take it horribly hid the fact from me, my Grandy living three hours away decided to play along...you can only imagine how devastated and betrayed I felt when I found out from my brother who thought I should know. I understand my parents concern to an extent. But I still have to wonder how they determined hiding the fact that my Grandy was fighting for her life was good for me. I wish I could have been there for her in the beginning, but I didn't know.
I talked to her on the phone as often as I could. I sat here in Ohio worrying as she was passed from specialist to specialist in this state and that state. Finally once summer came I got to see her. Visiting my Grandy and Papas was always the highlight of my summer. I love them both deeply and they truly were amazing people. Summer prior to '07 I would stay with them for weeks. Just the three of us. My Grandy and I would go to the beach almost everyday, we'd sit on her bench that she had been sharing her secrets with since she was a little girl, we eat ourselves sick with Toft's and Pide Pipper ice cream and watch Forrest Gump together until we could recite every line by heart. This summer was much different.
For one my aunt and cousin flew up from Florida to be with us. I've seen my aunt a whopping two times in my entire life, though you'd never guess seeing as she facebook stalks me. I quickly came to realize that this wasn't just a summer visit. This was supposed to be goodbye. There are things about that trip I will always remember and things I want to forget.
I want to remember her laugh, her smile, and how elated she felt when she was having a good day. I want to forget how thin she was, how weak she looked, and how defeated she came of as. The last living memory I have of her is looking out the back window of my moms van onto their driveway as she cried and waved goodbye, I was crying too. We both knew. I don't know how, but we did. And I will always remember what it felt like to step away from the goodbye hug knowing I would never again see her.
After that summer her condition fell even more. She no longer accepted my calls, she didn't want me to hear the pain in her voice, and we very rarely conversed. On November 8th, 2007 my Grandy hit a break through in her cancer. The doctors thought that the worse over and that the latest chemo was working. On the morning of November 10th my Grandy suffered a stroke. Her body had already been tour to shreds, the cancer had done it's job and the stroke pushed her over the edge. My Grandy was taken off of life support that evening. I was at a horse show when I found out in Cleveland and I shut down.
I don't think any part of me was functioning correctly. Just days before I had cried tears of joy upon learning that maybe, just maybe they could beat this cancer and just like that it's all over.
One of the most difficult parts I found was arriving at the funeral home for the wake, walking into the main room and there on this nice table staring me in the face is a small box containing what was left of her. There she was in this box. This stupid mocking box. After about thirty minutes of "you look just like her"'s and "I'm so sorry about your grandmother"'s I had had enough. I went outside and sat on the freezing steps leading to the funeral home, and cried my heart out. It began to snow while I sat on those steps. Small delicate flakes, the first ones of the year. I truthfully think that maybe the snow was sent by her. Showing that she was still with me.
The funeral was painfully long and Catholic. If you've ever been to a Catholic funeral service than you know. It's hours of singing, monotonous prayers, and burning of random things. My being asthmatic and sitting in the front nearly died at my own grandmothers funeral. They were freaking burning this stuff off right in front of me. I'm not very religious as you could have guessed, but my Grandy was so I didn't argue for her sake.
It's been three long years and it's been three hard years. I became very depressed after her death and didn't interact with many. I created my own painful world in which I fought daily battles with myself. If you've ever been depressed than you know just how difficult and serious it is. You suddenly start thinking thoughts you never thought conceivable. I fought depression on my own. Seeing as my parents thought it to be a hormonal phase (because I pms'ed for two years straight /sarcasm). Without my close friends or horses I probably wouldn't have found the strength to get over my own personal hell. And I'm not saying this because I want pity. I want everyone to understand that not everything or everybody is what meets the eye.
This theme is carried over in Twelve Angry Men. We went through the emotional struggles of twelve men as they tried to determine whether or not a boy accused of murder was in fact a murder.
Mr. Potter, before you go calling guidance counselors and therapists, you should know that I've fought my way out of depression and am working on becoming a much stronger person on my own, which I think has in the long run benefited me.
I've grown to realize that no matter how much I cry, how angry I get, or how much I tempt life I can't bring her back. I can forget her voice, her smell, and her laugh but no one can ever take away the memories and love I had for her. It took me a long time to come to terms with myself. As lame as that sounds.
November 10th is getting easier as the years pass. One day it will simply be November 10th, not November 10th the day your Grandmother died and you turn into a bigger emotional wreck then the man/woman who begged us all to leave Brittney Spears alone a few years back.
I bet hardly anyone will bother reading this enormous rant, it was way overdue and I apologize for it's size...but if you did survive this rant I ask that you're respectful of my past. It's very hard for me to come out and say that I was depressed, that I wasn't always strong and that I was weak. Sometimes we just need to get things off our chests...
Taken at Relay for Life a few years back. If you ever have the chance to participate in one you should, they're amazing. Twenty-four hours, over thirty miles, it was a blast.
Old picture taken that summer '07. The hobbit on the left is my brother, Jimmy, then me, my father, my mom, my Grandy, my Papa, my Aunt Joan, and my cousin Meg.
My Grandy was diagnosed with lung cancer in the spring of 2007. My parents knowing I would take it horribly hid the fact from me, my Grandy living three hours away decided to play along...you can only imagine how devastated and betrayed I felt when I found out from my brother who thought I should know. I understand my parents concern to an extent. But I still have to wonder how they determined hiding the fact that my Grandy was fighting for her life was good for me. I wish I could have been there for her in the beginning, but I didn't know.
I talked to her on the phone as often as I could. I sat here in Ohio worrying as she was passed from specialist to specialist in this state and that state. Finally once summer came I got to see her. Visiting my Grandy and Papas was always the highlight of my summer. I love them both deeply and they truly were amazing people. Summer prior to '07 I would stay with them for weeks. Just the three of us. My Grandy and I would go to the beach almost everyday, we'd sit on her bench that she had been sharing her secrets with since she was a little girl, we eat ourselves sick with Toft's and Pide Pipper ice cream and watch Forrest Gump together until we could recite every line by heart. This summer was much different.
For one my aunt and cousin flew up from Florida to be with us. I've seen my aunt a whopping two times in my entire life, though you'd never guess seeing as she facebook stalks me. I quickly came to realize that this wasn't just a summer visit. This was supposed to be goodbye. There are things about that trip I will always remember and things I want to forget.
I want to remember her laugh, her smile, and how elated she felt when she was having a good day. I want to forget how thin she was, how weak she looked, and how defeated she came of as. The last living memory I have of her is looking out the back window of my moms van onto their driveway as she cried and waved goodbye, I was crying too. We both knew. I don't know how, but we did. And I will always remember what it felt like to step away from the goodbye hug knowing I would never again see her.
After that summer her condition fell even more. She no longer accepted my calls, she didn't want me to hear the pain in her voice, and we very rarely conversed. On November 8th, 2007 my Grandy hit a break through in her cancer. The doctors thought that the worse over and that the latest chemo was working. On the morning of November 10th my Grandy suffered a stroke. Her body had already been tour to shreds, the cancer had done it's job and the stroke pushed her over the edge. My Grandy was taken off of life support that evening. I was at a horse show when I found out in Cleveland and I shut down.
I don't think any part of me was functioning correctly. Just days before I had cried tears of joy upon learning that maybe, just maybe they could beat this cancer and just like that it's all over.
One of the most difficult parts I found was arriving at the funeral home for the wake, walking into the main room and there on this nice table staring me in the face is a small box containing what was left of her. There she was in this box. This stupid mocking box. After about thirty minutes of "you look just like her"'s and "I'm so sorry about your grandmother"'s I had had enough. I went outside and sat on the freezing steps leading to the funeral home, and cried my heart out. It began to snow while I sat on those steps. Small delicate flakes, the first ones of the year. I truthfully think that maybe the snow was sent by her. Showing that she was still with me.
The funeral was painfully long and Catholic. If you've ever been to a Catholic funeral service than you know. It's hours of singing, monotonous prayers, and burning of random things. My being asthmatic and sitting in the front nearly died at my own grandmothers funeral. They were freaking burning this stuff off right in front of me. I'm not very religious as you could have guessed, but my Grandy was so I didn't argue for her sake.
It's been three long years and it's been three hard years. I became very depressed after her death and didn't interact with many. I created my own painful world in which I fought daily battles with myself. If you've ever been depressed than you know just how difficult and serious it is. You suddenly start thinking thoughts you never thought conceivable. I fought depression on my own. Seeing as my parents thought it to be a hormonal phase (because I pms'ed for two years straight /sarcasm). Without my close friends or horses I probably wouldn't have found the strength to get over my own personal hell. And I'm not saying this because I want pity. I want everyone to understand that not everything or everybody is what meets the eye.
This theme is carried over in Twelve Angry Men. We went through the emotional struggles of twelve men as they tried to determine whether or not a boy accused of murder was in fact a murder.
Mr. Potter, before you go calling guidance counselors and therapists, you should know that I've fought my way out of depression and am working on becoming a much stronger person on my own, which I think has in the long run benefited me.
I've grown to realize that no matter how much I cry, how angry I get, or how much I tempt life I can't bring her back. I can forget her voice, her smell, and her laugh but no one can ever take away the memories and love I had for her. It took me a long time to come to terms with myself. As lame as that sounds.
November 10th is getting easier as the years pass. One day it will simply be November 10th, not November 10th the day your Grandmother died and you turn into a bigger emotional wreck then the man/woman who begged us all to leave Brittney Spears alone a few years back.
I bet hardly anyone will bother reading this enormous rant, it was way overdue and I apologize for it's size...but if you did survive this rant I ask that you're respectful of my past. It's very hard for me to come out and say that I was depressed, that I wasn't always strong and that I was weak. Sometimes we just need to get things off our chests...
Old picture taken that summer '07. The hobbit on the left is my brother, Jimmy, then me, my father, my mom, my Grandy, my Papa, my Aunt Joan, and my cousin Meg.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Friday, November 5, 2010
Behind the Inhaler Pt.9
Yet another interesting week in the world of Stephanie. It's the first weekend in November which means multiple things.
The class itself is incredibly comical. The people in the class are just as diverse as the events. Don't get me wrong S&D is incredibly hard. Not many people can memorize a ten minute speech and preform it in front of others. Not many people can argue until they're red faced and seconds away from lashing out at another. And only three people on the whole team are daring enough to be given a random current event, write a ten minute speech on it, memorize it, and present it...in thirty minutes (extemp'ers are insane). Aside from all this hard work we manage to have an amazing time.
This weekend is also the Breeders Cup Classic. The Breeders Cup although not as known as the Kentucky Derby is just as prestigious. I am not a fan of horse racing. I've seen the cruelty first hand and I know the horrible secrets of the trade. But I am a fan of some of these talented horses. This years Breeders Cup will go one of two ways. It will be one of the greatest upsets in racing history, or one of the greatest moments in racing history.
Fun fact the term "upset" comes from thoroughbred racing. Man o' War one of the greatest racing horses of all time lost one race in his career to a horse named "Upset." Ever since whenever an underdog won it was know as pulling an "Upset." Just as the horse did. Bet you didn't know that!
Anyway, back to why this race will go one of two ways. This year the returning Breeders Cup Classic Champion is running again. Why is this such a big deal? Because she is 19 in 19. She is six years old (ancient in the horse racing world), and because this is her last race. Zenyatta, was purchased in auction as a filly for the rock bottom price of $60,000 (this is nothing in the horse racing world). And throughout her career she has earned over $8,000,000. One million of which coming from last years Breeders Cup classic. Why am I emphasizing that Zenyatta is female? Because it horse racing very rarely does a trainer dare race his girl against the boys. It's not sexist it's the truth. Male horses are larger, faster, and have more stamina. But Zenyatta rose to the challenge and has gone 19 in 19 against the boys. If she wins this weekend she will end her career as the greatest mare of all time (knocking Ruffian out of her title). This mare has caught the heart of many and I hope that come Saturday at 6:48 her teal and pink colors are crossing the line first.
I'm not going to go into detail as to why I hate the week containing November 10th this week. I think I'll save most of it for next week. I should warn you all thought that November 10th is a very hard day for me to get through. It's been three years since I lost my Grandy to cancer. She was my best-friend, and I loved her very much. It's very difficult for me to talk about still, but I think that sharing her story next week might make me feel better. Even though it's been three years the pain still feels very real. I've never been good at letting go, and I've never been good at goodbyes but I'm getting better. I'm not one to sit around and drown in my own self pity but when it comes to my Grandy it's as though I shut down.
Before I work myself up into a fit I should tie this into class, post a few pictures and a video to piss Colin off and leave it at that for this week.
This week we started reading through a play based around a jury and it's struggle to convict a boy of murder. I've played #12 everyday and has grown to know him as an odd, crazy, and un-decisive person much like my brother who was called to jury duty this summer, but avoided it using a note from work.
Speech and Debate shirt!
Dolly 1, (we have a Dolly 2) I have learned some of the most important lessons when it comes to riding on this mare in the six years I've known her. She is one of the biggest [term for female dog]'s our barn has, she's mean, beautiful, talented, and moody and she knows it. It's fitting that the last time I road this mare I flipped off and was nearly crushed by her (I fell in front of her). I will always remember her for what she is a [female dog], moody, crazy, mare, that was one of the best jumping mounts, ever. I will miss her dearly. But saying goodbye is part of the sport. I will miss her "make me" attitude, her "arphing" (she grunts like a walrus when you ask her to do something she doesn't approve of), and her forward brave jump.
Taken directly from the Columbus Dispatch. Look at the kids and that woman's face!
My video wouldn't upload tonight, I'll try again Sunday.
- First Speech and Debate tournament of the season!
- Breeders Cup
- Next week is one of my least favorite week out of the year.
The class itself is incredibly comical. The people in the class are just as diverse as the events. Don't get me wrong S&D is incredibly hard. Not many people can memorize a ten minute speech and preform it in front of others. Not many people can argue until they're red faced and seconds away from lashing out at another. And only three people on the whole team are daring enough to be given a random current event, write a ten minute speech on it, memorize it, and present it...in thirty minutes (extemp'ers are insane). Aside from all this hard work we manage to have an amazing time.
This weekend is also the Breeders Cup Classic. The Breeders Cup although not as known as the Kentucky Derby is just as prestigious. I am not a fan of horse racing. I've seen the cruelty first hand and I know the horrible secrets of the trade. But I am a fan of some of these talented horses. This years Breeders Cup will go one of two ways. It will be one of the greatest upsets in racing history, or one of the greatest moments in racing history.
Fun fact the term "upset" comes from thoroughbred racing. Man o' War one of the greatest racing horses of all time lost one race in his career to a horse named "Upset." Ever since whenever an underdog won it was know as pulling an "Upset." Just as the horse did. Bet you didn't know that!
Anyway, back to why this race will go one of two ways. This year the returning Breeders Cup Classic Champion is running again. Why is this such a big deal? Because she is 19 in 19. She is six years old (ancient in the horse racing world), and because this is her last race. Zenyatta, was purchased in auction as a filly for the rock bottom price of $60,000 (this is nothing in the horse racing world). And throughout her career she has earned over $8,000,000. One million of which coming from last years Breeders Cup classic. Why am I emphasizing that Zenyatta is female? Because it horse racing very rarely does a trainer dare race his girl against the boys. It's not sexist it's the truth. Male horses are larger, faster, and have more stamina. But Zenyatta rose to the challenge and has gone 19 in 19 against the boys. If she wins this weekend she will end her career as the greatest mare of all time (knocking Ruffian out of her title). This mare has caught the heart of many and I hope that come Saturday at 6:48 her teal and pink colors are crossing the line first.
I'm not going to go into detail as to why I hate the week containing November 10th this week. I think I'll save most of it for next week. I should warn you all thought that November 10th is a very hard day for me to get through. It's been three years since I lost my Grandy to cancer. She was my best-friend, and I loved her very much. It's very difficult for me to talk about still, but I think that sharing her story next week might make me feel better. Even though it's been three years the pain still feels very real. I've never been good at letting go, and I've never been good at goodbyes but I'm getting better. I'm not one to sit around and drown in my own self pity but when it comes to my Grandy it's as though I shut down.
Before I work myself up into a fit I should tie this into class, post a few pictures and a video to piss Colin off and leave it at that for this week.
This week we started reading through a play based around a jury and it's struggle to convict a boy of murder. I've played #12 everyday and has grown to know him as an odd, crazy, and un-decisive person much like my brother who was called to jury duty this summer, but avoided it using a note from work.
My video wouldn't upload tonight, I'll try again Sunday.
Monday, November 1, 2010
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