Writing In Community

Rocket Mechanics Involving Reusability

Since I researched around an evolving issue involving mechanics that may be completely different in the future, I used a google sites because of my rhetorical situation. A google sites offers a standpoint and collection of research in that time period and can be frequently updated and edited when new research regarding my topic is introduced and/or new experiments have shown opposite or similar results. If I were to make a video regarding my rhetorical situation, I would not have been able to edit the information later on as information evolves. Google sites also made it convenient and easy to explain in depth the situation revolving around the various photos I used and allow the reader to go about on their own pace, allowing them to skip some parts and come back to them if they wanted to or examin pictures closely without the constant pace that a video would have. My genre did not influence my research text greatly but pushed me to make clarifications on certain aspects regarding complicated topics or vocabulary that may not be discernible by someone just being introduced to the information for the first time. I sent my communication to my Fathers military friend who is involved in rocket boosters, specifically missiles, because his knowledge can push my research in the right direction since it’s on the basis of propulsion.

This is it

I wasn’t expecting blogging to end this quickly, and to tell you truthfully, I’m a little disappointed. I don’t really enjoy much school work but for once, I enjoyed writing blogs. The ability to write about anything is liberating. It seems nowadays we are always constrained to the same old rubric in every class and our creativity is severely limited. It felt refreshing to be free in our writing topics which led to me spilling my thoughts out on here. On top of that, the ability to disregard grammar rules to a reasonable extent even further fueled the engine of imagination. I used to this opportunity to not just refer to my journal to get words typed just to get the grade, but to express stories, opinions, and generalities and have my peers be alongside me. I seem to be catching myself not even paying attention the word count when I’m writing recollections of my childhood or high school memories because I have so much literary ammo to expunge. Commenting is also a great tool as well that I will miss. Reading my friends and peers blogs about a variety of topics is truly interesting. The ability to read and respond to the various parts of my peers writing that is just as unchained as mine makes me enjoy blogging even more. I have a feeling blogs may come back, or maybe they won’t. It seems like this isn’t the last time we’ll seen blogging for some reason. In the event that it is, I enjoyed for it the time being, goodbye.

Halloween Shenanigans

It was a run-of-the-mill Halloween night in 2013. I was 12 at the time and I was dressed as a Swat Officer and my friends and I were exploring multiple neighborhoods and gathering candy wherever we could. You know, sounds like any other Halloween night anywhere but this is where it gets interesting. It was reaching the end of the night and house lights were turning off and sidewalks soon became barren but me and my friends didn’t want the fun to end just yet. This chase for entertainment turned into me and friends doing the dumbest thing I could imagine even to this day. We went to the nearest road that had cars still frequently had cars passing through and decided to pull an invisible rope prank on the cars driving by. This entailed one of us standing on one side of the road and one on the other and us mimicking playing a sort of tug of war but in reality there was no rope involved. Surprisingly, every car fell for it. Cars would slow down and come to a complete stop and the drivers would just look at us and some even got out of their cars to make sure nothing was there and some gave us genuine laughs while others weren’t so amused. Now one car is calmly strolling down the road and we all get into position for our oscar worthy performance. The car does the routine slow down and stop but then the unthinkable happened. This car turns on and shines a blinding spotlight on us and examines us thoroughly. THIS CAR, turned out to be an undercover cop. I know, I know, “What were you guys thinking?!” He got out and pulled all 7 of us aside and asked us what we were doing and we answered truthfully. He lectured us on the dangers of what we were doing and why that we shouldn’t do it ever again, He then proceeded to send us all home without notifying our parents which would have gotten all of us in deep trouble. I’m still thankful for that officer to this day.

Life After Education

I constantly wonder what life will be like 10 years from now. Will I have achieved my goals in life and be successful? Will I have started a family or will I be fully committed to my career? Sometimes I scare myself thinking about the future and if I may fail. I’ve gotten so used to a life huddled under the umbrella of education shielding from the torrential downpour of the working world I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be on my own, no more homework due, no more teachers educating me about new concepts and topics, no more monotonous days of going to the same school with my same backpack and seeing the same people everyday. I wonder where my friends will be, will they have succeeded? It makes me feel uneasy but at the same time I welcome the the inevitable future. From a realistic standpoint I need to welcome and be ready for it, the world isn’t going to wait around for me or anybody else to make the transition. Possibly in the future I may be looking at my past self typing this and wondering why I ever even worried in the first place. I have another 4 and a half years of education ahead of me so I can’t be getting apprehensive just yet. College is an incredibly different animal than high school and I can only imagine what my experience in college will be like. For now I will continue to go to Heritage and live in the present.

Childhood Memories

Generally, I do not remember most of my childhood. I remember all of the places I’ve lived and I can describe them in great detail but I cannot remember what I was doing in those places. Now with the few and far between moments I do remember as a young child, they all have one characteristic in common, a strong sense of experience or sensation. I remember vividly when I scored my first touchdown in the Central Loudoun Youth Football League, also known as CLYFL. I also remember vividly when I broke both my collarbones.

The first time I was only 8 years old and I was playing on my sisters pink bed with her when she pushed me off jokingly, I hope, and I landed on my right shoulder thus breaking my collar bone. Ironically, I can’t remember anything else when I was 8. The second time I was 12 years old and my uncle was the perpetrator. We were at Tuscarora creek park and my uncle threw me up into the air and failed to catch me and I landed on my left shoulder and broke my collar bone, again. I sighed as I wrote that last sentence as I remember it being so preventable, don’t start what you can’t finish Uncle Lester.

I don’t understand why most our childhood fades out of existence as we age but small moments here and there stick with us for the rest our lives, it’s remarkable. Maybe I will forget about me writing this very blog itself, or maybe it will oddly stick with me for the rest of my life, only time will tell.

High School Artifact

Although my object was manufactured to be incredibly light, it carries a heavy toll with it. My track shoes, or as we call them, spikes, have a monuments worth of emotion behind them. These white and black shoes were what I first bought when I was told I made the track team my sophomore year, these were the shoes I wore when I ran my first race for which I was incredibly nervous for, these were the shoes I won races in, and these were the shoes I wore when I tore a muscle in my hip. I remember it as if it happened 10 minutes ago.

It was a chilly night at Woodgrove high school and I was lined up in lane 2 as my heart was beating out of my chest, the announcer raised the gun which would signal us to start and it jammed, he told us to reset, he raised the gun again and surprisingly, it jammed again. It was as if the universe was telling me directly not to run. Finally he raised the gun a third time and it let off a loud bang and we all darted off the blocks. It was a 200 meter race which began with a 100 meter curve and ended with a 100 meter straight away. I was rounding the curve and heading off into the straightaway when it felt as if a firecracker went off in my right leg. I instantly knew something had gone terribly wrong and my leg started to stutter and I wasn’t able to push off the ground. I didn’t want to stop for some reason though, I couldn’t stop. As all the other runners ran past me I decided I would limp the final 100 meters to the finish line. As the pain spread throughout my leg I crossed the finish line and collapsed and all my coaches and teammates ran to me and I was taken to the hospital shortly after.

I made a full recovery and am running track again but whenever I look at my old shoes I can’t help but remember every single detail of my sophomore season. My victories, my losses, my injury, my recovery, and most importantly, my teammates and coaches.


Organic Object

Golden berries, what a beautiful name that is, yet you are constantly radiating a smell that one could say is horrid, or tangy, or sour, or sweet or all at the same time. The smell gives me a sense of the unknown, a sense of questioning, a sense of dumbfoundedness. Straying away from it’s, to say the least, “non preferable smell”, it’s golden skin gives me an illusion to a fruit that offers a taste like no other. The ceiling lights reflects perfectly off of its immaculate skin creating a yellow filter that if I look deep enough into the reflection, it appears almost like a sunset captured at the perfect moment. The berry is very light, not very dense, and not very thick, a perfect product of berry evolution, is that even a thing? The taste, however, is the rock bottom of all the aspects of the golden berry. The second I popped one into my jaws and opened my taste buds to the wonders of the golden berry I immediately regretted it. The taste made me pucker up without control, the muscles on my face contracted immediately as the sourness raged a war on my tongue. In the end though, I swallowed it, giving me an odd sense of accomplishment, one that I won’t tell anybody about, but one that I will remember for some reason, an inexplicable thought process. Now days later, the golden berries have rotted to an unbearable state, I could not stand the sight of the decaying berries. At first, I marveled at the sight of the berries exhibiting the beautiful sunset color, now it’s become a chore to look at it, a task, a duty, a burden, but one that gives me meaning, although as meaningless as a berry, it carries the weight of the work that it took to nurture it and farm it, all for it to end up to me.

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