Post Brainstorming/ideas for Short essay
For the first short essay I'm thinking of writing about my experience with teaching/observing primary education students and how I came to decide on pursuing a graduate education and becoming a professor instead. This is going to be written because I am currently working at a day care and at the WC as well as taking classes so I do not have much time to explore other mediums of expressing my ideas for this essay.
For the past 5 years I have worked in day cares and after school programs. When I first began working with the little munchkins it was not too bad, but the more I was exposed to the environment the more I swore I would never have children.
My opinions have slightly changed since then; I'm not opposed to having children but I really want to home school them.
The focus of this short essay will probably be how, from what I've seen, parents spoil their kids very easily and (most of the time) because they are so busy that they do not respond well to their children's needs both in terms of sleep/food/etc. and (sometimes most importantly) disciplinary. It will basically be scenes from my interactions with the students and how the way they are being raised is a reflection of society.
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Saturday, October 27, 2012
Blog Post #8
Discussion of how you would work more on Long Essay 2 + discussion of which essay you are going to revise.
For Long Essay #2 I would like to add more details and vivid descriptors of how the pain felt but I'm not that skilled in describing pain. Apart from that I am not really sure what else should be added to it and how I would expand it.There is not much dialogue because I don't remember much talking. What is clear to me is the feelings associated with tennis but I don't know if they are coming across and I definitely think that I could add more describing the feeling or (i would prefer) trying to get the reader to connect to it and understand what kind of feelings I'm trying to describe.
At this point I'm not totally sure which essay I will revise. As much as I love this one I don't think I will be able to continue discussing it because it still makes me sad and I still have the aches and pain to remind me of all my old injuries. I'll probably end up revising my first long essay and include stories about control because after my conference I realized that fear and control are connected. That gives me a lot of material to work with and I feel more comfortable expanding on that one.
For Long Essay #2 I would like to add more details and vivid descriptors of how the pain felt but I'm not that skilled in describing pain. Apart from that I am not really sure what else should be added to it and how I would expand it.There is not much dialogue because I don't remember much talking. What is clear to me is the feelings associated with tennis but I don't know if they are coming across and I definitely think that I could add more describing the feeling or (i would prefer) trying to get the reader to connect to it and understand what kind of feelings I'm trying to describe.
At this point I'm not totally sure which essay I will revise. As much as I love this one I don't think I will be able to continue discussing it because it still makes me sad and I still have the aches and pain to remind me of all my old injuries. I'll probably end up revising my first long essay and include stories about control because after my conference I realized that fear and control are connected. That gives me a lot of material to work with and I feel more comfortable expanding on that one.
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Blog Post #7
- I know more needs to be added but I am wondering what aspect (details) would be more interesting to the reader and how much to include. I can talk more about how I felt during my experience and also go more into the actual activities that I participated in but I'm not sure how to balance the two.
- Say back what you think the essay is about.
- What emotions can you perceive from this (partial) essay?
- What do you think about the segmenting?
- What else do you think I need to add?
Long Essay #2 Draft
I was sitting in my freshmen orientation class in high school when these girls come in asking if anyone wanted to join the tennis team. I had never played tennis before and had no idea how. No one was getting up, then the girl next to me asks if I wanted to try it out. We stood up signed our names on the sheet and I didn't think much of it. I was starting a new school and joining a the tennis team might help me make some friends.
The other girl changed her mind.
So there I was, a freshmen, lined up with other freshmen girls who signed up to join the team. There weren't many of us so no one was getting cut. That was a relief, no matter how terrible I was I could still be a part of the team.
It was interesting to find out that even though we weren't great players (yet) we could still have fun learning this new game. That's the thing about growing up in the inner-city, games like tennis require practice and money (if you want to be good at it) so there weren't many kids who had learned to play it growing up.
Every day I would get home sore, hardly being able to move without feeling pain in all my aching muscles. But every day I looked forward to the end of classes so I could get back on the court. The pain meant that we were working hard and that work yielded improvement so I wasn't going to stop. I have never felt happier or more invigorated than when I stepped onto the tennis courts.
Love-15
After a year of being on the tennis team we had actually come a long way and improved our skills. We stayed in shape during the winter and spring then had an intensive clinic for a month in the summer. By the time fall rolled around we were ready to face our opponents.
I noticed it during class first. My hand would cramp up when I wrote for too long and it became impossible for me to hold a pen. My wrist would ache and the area between my thumb and my index finger looked like I got stung by a bee. In reality it was swollen. The doctor said it was tendinitis. Great.
At that point maybe I should have stopped. I should have rested my wrist to make sure my wrist didn't get worse. I bought a wrist brace instead.
Love-30
Summer heat can be annoying and uncomfortable. For someone with asthma it could make breathing damn near impossible. High levels of humidity and high temperatures are not a good mix for my asthma.
The double practice sessions during the summer in preparation for the fall season at Kean were torturous. After playing with a wrist injury for 3 years in high school I was used to that discomfort so I learned to ice my wrist and hand after every practice/match. But my asthma was a different beast that could not be kept at bay.
"Come on! You're almost done, just one more lap."
That one lap seemed like trying to run across the United States with no water along the way. I felt like I was suffocating but I kept going because I didn't want my teammates to think I wasn't trying hard enough or couldn't finish the lap because I was lazy. That plan never went well though. I either ended up needing to stop because I got dizzy or threw up. Sometimes both.
Love-40
Body aches are part of life when you're playing a sport. It's expected for something to hurt and the remedy is to ice it, take some advil and push through it. If it still hurts, you ice it again. My shoulder was a different beast compared to the injuries I had before.Wrist pain, knee pain, tendinitis on my ankle; all things I learned to cope with. But my shoulder was not cooperating. A sore shoulder was a normal thing when you spent all day playing tennis, the constant motions for serving and hitting the ball is a workout. But my shoulder pain went down to my elbow and gave me a stiff neck. Not good signs.
The strain on my shoulder caused my wrist to feel worse. There was swelling and reduction of sensation, meaning some sort of nerve damage.
I went to the first few practices of the 2010 season despite the pain. My hand swelled up and looked more like I had a golf ball stuck under the skin between my thumb and index finger. After 3 practices the pain was unbearable and I had to quit the team. It was the hardest decision I've ever had to make. I couldn't even say it out loud; instead I emailed my coach telling her I wasn't going back.
Game
7am my alarm goes off, I reach for it and feel excruciating pain rush down my back. I was laying on my stomach and I couldn't turn myself around. There was no one to call, no was home to help me and I could't reach my phone. I tried to push myself up from the bed but any force I did immediately sent sharp pain up my arms and down my back. I couldn't move my legs either, that sent pain up my back.
I was stuck.
My heart was racing, I was panicking. How could I get myself up.I can't keep my head up, my neck was hurting. I had to figure out a way out of bed.
I locked my jaw and pushed myself up on my elbows. I fell back down.
I locked my jaw and pushed myself up on my elbows. I fought through the pain and let one arm fall so I could lay on my side. Then I laid on my back. Then I caught my breath. It didn't matter that my room was cold, I was sweating. It felt like I was on top of a volcano ready to explode as I felt each pulse of my muscles twitching and the pain that accompanied it.
There was no way I would be able to sit up. The pain went from my back to my ribs. Even my chest hurt. Breathing hurt. With each breath a new wave of pain came over me.
I rolled my legs, very slowly, to the side of my bed. Once my feet touched the floor I could try and get up. I used my arms to prop myself up and hoped that my legs wouldn't give out from the pain. I would not be able to getup from the floor if I fell.
I stood up and walked slowly to my door and up the stairs. I got some medicine and then went to lay back down again.
The doctor says my muscles were spastic. It turns out that my shoulder pain was result of a dislocated bone in my posterior rib cage. After some physical therapy the pain went down and I was able to function. But now any heavy lifting or sleeping wrong could cause my back muscles to spasm. Apparently all those months of physical therapy did nothing to fix the problem.
I went to see an orthopedic surgeon who wants me to get scans in order to see what the problem is.It's been a year since he ordered the scans and I still haven't gotten them done. At first I thought it was just laziness in my part, but really I just don't want my worse fears to come true. If I need surgery it will take 3-6 months to recover. I suffered enough from all these injuries and if I have surgery I would need to put my life on hold. I know that in the end it would be better to get the surgery and fix the problem, but I've gotten so used to this pain that I don't know how it feels to live without it.
I guess I'm reluctant to let go of this pain just as I was reluctant to let go of tennis years ago.
- Say back what you think the essay is about.
- What emotions can you perceive from this (partial) essay?
- What do you think about the segmenting?
- What else do you think I need to add?
Long Essay #2 Draft
Match Point
LoveI was sitting in my freshmen orientation class in high school when these girls come in asking if anyone wanted to join the tennis team. I had never played tennis before and had no idea how. No one was getting up, then the girl next to me asks if I wanted to try it out. We stood up signed our names on the sheet and I didn't think much of it. I was starting a new school and joining a the tennis team might help me make some friends.
The other girl changed her mind.
So there I was, a freshmen, lined up with other freshmen girls who signed up to join the team. There weren't many of us so no one was getting cut. That was a relief, no matter how terrible I was I could still be a part of the team.
It was interesting to find out that even though we weren't great players (yet) we could still have fun learning this new game. That's the thing about growing up in the inner-city, games like tennis require practice and money (if you want to be good at it) so there weren't many kids who had learned to play it growing up.
Every day I would get home sore, hardly being able to move without feeling pain in all my aching muscles. But every day I looked forward to the end of classes so I could get back on the court. The pain meant that we were working hard and that work yielded improvement so I wasn't going to stop. I have never felt happier or more invigorated than when I stepped onto the tennis courts.
Love-15
After a year of being on the tennis team we had actually come a long way and improved our skills. We stayed in shape during the winter and spring then had an intensive clinic for a month in the summer. By the time fall rolled around we were ready to face our opponents.
I noticed it during class first. My hand would cramp up when I wrote for too long and it became impossible for me to hold a pen. My wrist would ache and the area between my thumb and my index finger looked like I got stung by a bee. In reality it was swollen. The doctor said it was tendinitis. Great.
At that point maybe I should have stopped. I should have rested my wrist to make sure my wrist didn't get worse. I bought a wrist brace instead.
Love-30
Summer heat can be annoying and uncomfortable. For someone with asthma it could make breathing damn near impossible. High levels of humidity and high temperatures are not a good mix for my asthma.
The double practice sessions during the summer in preparation for the fall season at Kean were torturous. After playing with a wrist injury for 3 years in high school I was used to that discomfort so I learned to ice my wrist and hand after every practice/match. But my asthma was a different beast that could not be kept at bay.
"Come on! You're almost done, just one more lap."
That one lap seemed like trying to run across the United States with no water along the way. I felt like I was suffocating but I kept going because I didn't want my teammates to think I wasn't trying hard enough or couldn't finish the lap because I was lazy. That plan never went well though. I either ended up needing to stop because I got dizzy or threw up. Sometimes both.
Love-40
Body aches are part of life when you're playing a sport. It's expected for something to hurt and the remedy is to ice it, take some advil and push through it. If it still hurts, you ice it again. My shoulder was a different beast compared to the injuries I had before.Wrist pain, knee pain, tendinitis on my ankle; all things I learned to cope with. But my shoulder was not cooperating. A sore shoulder was a normal thing when you spent all day playing tennis, the constant motions for serving and hitting the ball is a workout. But my shoulder pain went down to my elbow and gave me a stiff neck. Not good signs.
The strain on my shoulder caused my wrist to feel worse. There was swelling and reduction of sensation, meaning some sort of nerve damage.
I went to the first few practices of the 2010 season despite the pain. My hand swelled up and looked more like I had a golf ball stuck under the skin between my thumb and index finger. After 3 practices the pain was unbearable and I had to quit the team. It was the hardest decision I've ever had to make. I couldn't even say it out loud; instead I emailed my coach telling her I wasn't going back.
Game
7am my alarm goes off, I reach for it and feel excruciating pain rush down my back. I was laying on my stomach and I couldn't turn myself around. There was no one to call, no was home to help me and I could't reach my phone. I tried to push myself up from the bed but any force I did immediately sent sharp pain up my arms and down my back. I couldn't move my legs either, that sent pain up my back.
I was stuck.
My heart was racing, I was panicking. How could I get myself up.I can't keep my head up, my neck was hurting. I had to figure out a way out of bed.
I locked my jaw and pushed myself up on my elbows. I fell back down.
I locked my jaw and pushed myself up on my elbows. I fought through the pain and let one arm fall so I could lay on my side. Then I laid on my back. Then I caught my breath. It didn't matter that my room was cold, I was sweating. It felt like I was on top of a volcano ready to explode as I felt each pulse of my muscles twitching and the pain that accompanied it.
There was no way I would be able to sit up. The pain went from my back to my ribs. Even my chest hurt. Breathing hurt. With each breath a new wave of pain came over me.
I rolled my legs, very slowly, to the side of my bed. Once my feet touched the floor I could try and get up. I used my arms to prop myself up and hoped that my legs wouldn't give out from the pain. I would not be able to getup from the floor if I fell.
I stood up and walked slowly to my door and up the stairs. I got some medicine and then went to lay back down again.
The doctor says my muscles were spastic. It turns out that my shoulder pain was result of a dislocated bone in my posterior rib cage. After some physical therapy the pain went down and I was able to function. But now any heavy lifting or sleeping wrong could cause my back muscles to spasm. Apparently all those months of physical therapy did nothing to fix the problem.
I went to see an orthopedic surgeon who wants me to get scans in order to see what the problem is.It's been a year since he ordered the scans and I still haven't gotten them done. At first I thought it was just laziness in my part, but really I just don't want my worse fears to come true. If I need surgery it will take 3-6 months to recover. I suffered enough from all these injuries and if I have surgery I would need to put my life on hold. I know that in the end it would be better to get the surgery and fix the problem, but I've gotten so used to this pain that I don't know how it feels to live without it.
I guess I'm reluctant to let go of this pain just as I was reluctant to let go of tennis years ago.
Blog Post #6
For my second long essay I will write about tennis and how it affected my life.
Segment 1: Love
This scene will go over when I joined my high school tennis team and how I fell in love with the game.
Segment 2: Love-15
This scene will describe my first injury (wrist) and how it affected my playing and my life.
Segment 3: Love-30
This scene will describe the difficulty I had playing in hot and humid weather due to my asthma.
Segment 4: Love-40
This scene will will probably be more detailed because it will include my shoulder injury which led to leave the team at the beginning of the season in 2010.
Segment 5: Game
This scene will discuss the progression of my shoulder injury to include sciatica as well muscle spasms and a shoulder impingement which means that I will probably never be able to play tennis again.
Segment 1: Love
This scene will go over when I joined my high school tennis team and how I fell in love with the game.
Segment 2: Love-15
This scene will describe my first injury (wrist) and how it affected my playing and my life.
Segment 3: Love-30
This scene will describe the difficulty I had playing in hot and humid weather due to my asthma.
Segment 4: Love-40
This scene will will probably be more detailed because it will include my shoulder injury which led to leave the team at the beginning of the season in 2010.
Segment 5: Game
This scene will discuss the progression of my shoulder injury to include sciatica as well muscle spasms and a shoulder impingement which means that I will probably never be able to play tennis again.
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Blog #5
Brainstorming for Long draft essay 2 => write into your ideas AND develop some scenes (for the idea you plan to go with), and/or a map for the presentation.
For my second long essay I will write about tennis and basically
how it affected my life.I played for seven years and ended up having to stop
due to an injury (series of injuries) that made it impossible for me to hold a
racquet let alone play a match. I'm thinking of using the scoring system for
tennis to segment my essay (me vs. tennis) to show how, ultimately, I was
defeated by it. Despite my injuries I wish I could play tennis and after 3
years of not being able to play I still suffer from pains and aches. I want to
explore why, despite my body basically falling apart, I still want to play. Is
it because of the feeling of inclusion that comes from a team. After spending
over 4 hours together 6 days a week it's hard to not become close to the other
people on the team. Also there is the stress of being on a "team" but
having to play the matches on your own (or with a partner if you play doubles)
but having the pressure of the team depending on you, while not playing with
the team as a whole.
There are a lot of
aspects I want to get into and I'm not sure how the scoring will work in
separating my segments but so far these are the ideas I've got.
Blog #4 edited
To Signal Danger
Amaxophobia
My mother got into a car accident and
she stopped driving. She is petrified of big cars passing us by and is
constantly reminding whoever is driving to “Drive slower.” She is always
telling me to be careful when I drive and to watch out for other drivers and
not go too fast on curves. Curves. That’s where the accident happened. It was
right in front of me in the pouring rain. A Jeep speeds down the wet pavement
on the highway and then he crashes into the back of the Jeep in front of me. I
stomped down on the brakes and froze for a minute. I didn’t know what to do, so
I slowly drove away. When I told my mother she reminded me to “be careful.” Is
it my responsibility to be careful and cautious of EVERYTHING that happens on
the road around me? There is so little control that we actually have it’s
sometimes futile to even try.
Yet, every time I get into a car I feel
the need to be vigilant because something might happen and I need to be ready;
ready for what though? If a car is speeding down the highway, how does my
paying attention really help prevent him from crashing into me? If the idiot
driving swerves my way there is very little chance that I’ll have enough time
to move out of the way. But I guess the illusion of power in such situations is
better than the overwhelming realization that at any given time a crash, a
fire, a stray bullet could end your life without you so much as having the
ability to move a finger.
Escalaphobia
When I was about 7 or 8 years old, my
family and I were at the airport on our way to board our flight. Taking the
escalator up to the next floor was a fun little ride on such an exciting day.
We were going to Dominican Republic; we would sit in the sun, go to the
waterfall and enjoy our time away from the city. When I got to the top of the
escalator I heard noises coming from below, my mother was stuck on the
escalator with my younger sister. Somehow they had fallen and now the guards
were trying to free her from the escalators grip. I watched at the top as my
sister cried and my mother struggled to get up. I don’t remember where my dad
went but I know that I couldn’t help them so I just looked on. The steps are
much simpler, easier. You place one foot in front of the other and the steps
don’t move on you, they don’t try and trick you. It wasn’t until I was in high
school that I could go on an escalator again. Even now I have trouble stepping
onto one. I have to stare at the metal pieces disappear and time my steps
appropriately so that I don’t trip or fall.
For
years I was able to avoid escalators, but one day on a class field trip I was
forced to face my fear. We were at Liberty Science Center (back when it was
cool) and when it was time to leave I was left behind staring at my classmates
as I stood at the top of the escalator unable to move. I didn’t care that my
peers where staring up at me wondering what was wrong. I don’t even remember if
they made fun of me for it or not. All I knew was this crippling anxiety. If I
could climb down the walls of Liberty Science Center instead of going down the
escalator I would have not thought twice about it. But there I stood frozen. My
legs didn’t know what to do. My heart was racing, my head was throbbing and I
was sure I would pass out or throw up. Neither of those things happened. One of
the chaperones came up the stairs and walked me down with her. Slowly.
Cautiously. I rode the escalator down to what didn’t turn out to be imminent
doom but to my classmates who waited as I made my way back to them.
Not Aerophobia but thanatophobia
When I was young I didn’t think about
death as something that could happen at any time. Death was something that
happened to “old people” and if it happened to anyone else it was a tragic
event that occurred to the regret of the world. I remember that when I was a child going on vacation with
my family one of our plane’s wings caught fire and I could see the smoke from
the window. As a kid on that plane I thought
it was an adventure, a story to tell, that there was no way we would die
(despite the fact that the plane was on fire and we were in the middle of the
ocean). My memory of the plane being on fire is blurry. I know it happened, I
can remember being told to put my head between my legs, I know there were nuns
and a boys soccer team on board and somehow everyone thought that was
reassuring because of course a plane with so many innocent children and a bunch
of nuns won't go down in flames. But then I remember tragic stories of innocent
people dying in horrific accidents and how there really was no guarantee that
we wouldn't become one of those stories you hear on the news.
When we landed back at the airport many people chose
to go home instead of getting on another plane and continuing on our way. But
not my family, we got on the next flight out. Maybe that helped keep the fear
of flying at bay. I love planes and would love to be able to fly to different
places around the world (if I had the time and money). Flying is such an
amazing experience. You are traveling in a huge chunk of metal thousands of
feet in the air.
It’s funny that after all of these experiences I can
be more afraid of an escalator than a plane. None of this made me a religious
person or made me question my existence or any of that, at least not at the time.
The car accident happened only a few weeks ago and left me a bit shaken up.
Every time I pass by that curve on route 22 I think about the collision and how
stupid that driver must have been to drive so fast in such bad weather. But
then again we never think that bad things will happen to us. For the most part
we’re all so very confident that “it won’t happen to me.” But it can happen to
me (and to you).
I don’t try to hide the residual effects of these
events. They shaped how I view the world and how I react to the world. Every
now and again it will get in the way of relaxing and just enjoying life but
there is no sure fire way to avoid accidents. Things happen. What matters is
how much power those events have over our lives.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Blog #4
- Is this worth reading? Is there an identifiable main idea? Does this organization work? Any suggestions on any aspect of the essay? What is the story about? What is the emotional high point?
I have not decided what my segments would be so for now I have placed stars.
My mother got into a car accident and she stopped driving. She is petrified of big cars passing us by and is constantly reminding whoever is driving to “Drive slower.” She is always telling me to be careful when I drive and to watch out for other drivers and not go too fast on curves. Curves. That’s where the accident happened. It was right in front of me in the pouring rain. A Jeep speeds down the wet pavement on the highway and then he crashes into the back of the Jeep in front of me. I stomped down on the brakes and froze for a minute. I didn’t know what to do, so I slowly drove away. When I told my mother she reminded me to “be careful.” Is it my responsibility to be careful and cautious of EVERYTHING that happens on the road around me? There is so little control that we actually have it’s sometimes futile to even try.
Yet, every time I get into a car I feel the need to be vigilant because something might happen and I need to be ready; ready for what though? If a car is speeding down the highway, how does my paying attention really help prevent him from crashing into me? If the idiot driving swerves my way there is very little chance that I’ll have enough time to move out of the way. But I guess the illusion of power in such situations is better than the overwhelming realization that at any given time a crash, a fire, a stray bullet could end your life without you so much as having the ability to move a finger.
I have not decided what my segments would be so for now I have placed stars.
(I’m not too sure how this story will
flow and how I will connect all the pieces so I basically wrote some parts that I
wanted to incorporate hoping that once they’re written down I am able to make
sense of how I will thread them
together. I haven't included other stories because I'm not totally sure how to phrase them and how to connect them. These were about accidents/incidents that occurred while the others are just situations that I was in (not life threatening) so I didn't include them until I decided on which ones are important and how they will be incorporated. Also, I have an idea of what I want my focus to be but I don’t exactly
know how to make that focus clear. Although my stories so far are about fear in
various situations that is not my intended main topic, I guess when I figure
out how to connect these stories fluidly I will be able to insert more details
in order to make my main focus/topic clearer.)
Long Essay #1 Draft
Long Essay #1 Draft
My mother got into a car accident and she stopped driving. She is petrified of big cars passing us by and is constantly reminding whoever is driving to “Drive slower.” She is always telling me to be careful when I drive and to watch out for other drivers and not go too fast on curves. Curves. That’s where the accident happened. It was right in front of me in the pouring rain. A Jeep speeds down the wet pavement on the highway and then he crashes into the back of the Jeep in front of me. I stomped down on the brakes and froze for a minute. I didn’t know what to do, so I slowly drove away. When I told my mother she reminded me to “be careful.” Is it my responsibility to be careful and cautious of EVERYTHING that happens on the road around me? There is so little control that we actually have it’s sometimes futile to even try.
Yet, every time I get into a car I feel the need to be vigilant because something might happen and I need to be ready; ready for what though? If a car is speeding down the highway, how does my paying attention really help prevent him from crashing into me? If the idiot driving swerves my way there is very little chance that I’ll have enough time to move out of the way. But I guess the illusion of power in such situations is better than the overwhelming realization that at any given time a crash, a fire, a stray bullet could end your life without you so much as having the ability to move a finger.
*****
When I was about 7 or 8 years old, my
family and I were at the airport on our way to board our flight. Taking the
escalator up to the next floor was a fun little ride on such an exciting day.
We were going to Dominican Republic; we would sit in the sun, go to the waterfall
and enjoy our time away from the city. When I got to the top of the escalator I
heard noises coming from below, my mother was stuck on the escalator with my
younger sister. Somehow they had fallen and now the guards were trying to free
her from the escalators grip. I watched at the top as my sister cried and my
mother struggled to get up. I don’t remember where my dad went but I know that
I couldn’t help them so I just looked on.
The steps are much simpler, easier. You place one foot in front of the other and the steps don’t move on you, they don’t try and trick you. It wasn’t until I was in high school that I could go on an escalator again. Even now I have trouble stepping onto one. I have to stare at the metal pieces disappear and time my steps appropriately so that I don’t trip or fall.
The steps are much simpler, easier. You place one foot in front of the other and the steps don’t move on you, they don’t try and trick you. It wasn’t until I was in high school that I could go on an escalator again. Even now I have trouble stepping onto one. I have to stare at the metal pieces disappear and time my steps appropriately so that I don’t trip or fall.
*****
When I was young I didn’t think about
death as something that could happen at any time. Death was something that
happened to “old people” and if it happened to anyone else it was a tragic
event that occurred to the regret of the world.
I remember that when I was a child going on vacation
with my family one of our plane’s wings caught fire and I could see the smoke
from the window. As a kid on that plane I
thought it was an adventure, a story to tell, that there was no way we would
die (despite the fact that the plane was on fire and we were in the middle of
the ocean). My memory of the plane being on fire is blurry. I know it happened,
I can remember being told to put my head between my legs, I know there were
nuns and a boys soccer team on board and somehow everyone thought that was
reassuring because of course a plane with so many innocent children and a bunch
of nuns won't go down in flames. But then I remember tragic stories of innocent
people dying in horrific accidents and how there really was no guarantee that
we wouldn't become one of those stories you hear on the news.
When we landed back at the airport many people chose to go home instead of getting on another plane and continuing on our way. But not my family, we got on the next flight out. Maybe that helped keep fear of flying at bay. I love planes and would love to be able to fly to different places around the world (if I had the time and money). Flying is such an amazing experience. You are traveling in a huge chunk of metal thousands of feet in the air. It’s funny that after all of these experiences I can be more afraid of an escalator than a plane.
*****
I couldn't control how these events affected me and I sure as hell couldn't prevent them from happeneing. But what I did do was make sure no one saw the damage. I avoided a lot of things but it was all covered under a veil of confidence and simple disinterest in the things that frightened me.
When we landed back at the airport many people chose to go home instead of getting on another plane and continuing on our way. But not my family, we got on the next flight out. Maybe that helped keep fear of flying at bay. I love planes and would love to be able to fly to different places around the world (if I had the time and money). Flying is such an amazing experience. You are traveling in a huge chunk of metal thousands of feet in the air. It’s funny that after all of these experiences I can be more afraid of an escalator than a plane.
*****
I couldn't control how these events affected me and I sure as hell couldn't prevent them from happeneing. But what I did do was make sure no one saw the damage. I avoided a lot of things but it was all covered under a veil of confidence and simple disinterest in the things that frightened me.
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