Dear Sir Media, Where's My Fairytale Ending?

    The lower the temperature is outside, the more time you'll find me snuggled up on my dangerously comfortable futon, hiding from the cold. As I sit typing this I am doing just that, perfectly wrapped in my plush blanket, half ass watching what my roommates have on the HBO channel. The movie playing tonight happens to be Cinderella Story starring Hilary Duff and the ever so dreamy Chad Michael Murray. I am just catching the ending, which from what I can see is the true definition of a sappy teenage love story...Chad Michael Murray, who happens to be the star football player with his perfectly chiseled arms hanging out of his football pads, is currently running off the football field to catch Hilary Duff, who of course is a perfect size two blonde that any girl would aspire to look like. He catches her, and after a dramatic "let me stare into your eyes and realize how much I like you even though this would realistically be incredibly awkward to do in a public place." scene, Chad smooches Hilary in front of the whole stadium while confessing his love to her. If that isn't perfect enough for you, the movie ends when the two enroll in Princeton, and "live happily ever after".
       I laugh out loud, I can't handle the cliché storyline! I used to get a kick out of this "fairy tale" stuff, but now I am so quick to see how unrealistic the images that these writers, and producers are placing in front of our eyes truly are. The main characters represent the "idealistic" male and female. They give you Chad, a star football player with his athletic physic and gorgeous looks, which make him the most popular and most eligible boy in school. Then you have Hilary, whose attractive characteristics make her the ideal desirable female. Although an extremely sad realization, when you think about it the whole story would be changed if Chad was a rough, dark haired skateboarder, or if Hilary was an overweight teenager in her awkward stage. That is considered unappealing in today's world, and what producer or writer would allow that onto the big screen? The college they send these characters two is an Ivy League School, one that is ranked most prestigious among the best universities worldwide. Statistics taken from the Universities website show that most students who got into Princeton last year had GPAs close to a 4.0, SAT scores above 2100, and ACT composite scores above 30. Obviously the average student in America does not hold these qualifications. You may argue that it is beneficial to provide young people with high college aspirations through these images, but to me it just seems to create an unrealistic view on life in general.
     I'll admit to my extreme jealously of Hilary Duff's chance to kiss Chad Michael Murray (I mean have you seen those blue eyes....) but I won't let the media fool me this time.

Twinning - Eggers Emulation

After twenty-years I should be used to it by now. It starts with a glance and usually turns into a dead stare. I feel their eyes move from my sister, to I, then to my sister again. We both blush simultaneously knowing what is coming next. The same conversation over and over, occurring ever so commonly in pretty much any place my sister and I travel to together. Whether it is in grocery store lines, at the bank, in the hair salon, even in restaurants, I recite the same answers to every curious bystander.

 Are you sisters? As if our identical strawberry blonde hair, exact same height, identical nose, and matching freckles didn’t give it away. You girls look EXACTLY alike! Well, we are twins…Are you identical or fraternal?  Identical. Technically a lie but I don’t want to bore you trying to explain the actual science of how we are fraternal but look exactly identical. Do you like being a twin? If I had a dollar for every time I’ve been asked this, I would never have to work a day in my life. Is twin telepathy real? Can you really feel what she feels? No, just because we’re twins doesn’t mean we are magically psychic. Do you play tricks on your friends and teachers?  Tried it, but our teachers found out and threatened to give us detentions so it never happened again. Do you guys fight a lot? Don’t all siblings fight? Do you ever dress alike? Please don’t remind me of the identical terrible outfits my mother dressed us in as babies. She dressed me as a cow and Lauren as a cowgirl for Halloween once; it gave a whole new meaning to disgustingly cute.

Don’t get me wrong, when I am in a rush the conversation can be slightly annoying, but overall I can’t say I am bothered by this interaction. Since having a twin is part of who I am, I feel as if the conversation allows a simple bystander to entertain the idea of what it’s like to have a twin, even if it is just for a minute. An ice breaker in disguise, I suppose.

Response Questions- Eggers and Woolf

        Eggers makes himself appealing to his readers in many ways. Though his topics seem completely random, he is able to capture my attention with his blunt and somewhat informal responses to everyday thoughts or actions we experience as humans. For example, Eggers touches on the topic of sex in his list of topics in which he feels makes himself an appealing narrator. He states, (the author) "he sometimes has sex without condoms." Though this might not apply to me directly, it creates a "Hey I am human, I make mistakes, too" atmosphere that helps make his essay more appealing to me. He expresses his faults directly so we can relate to him.
      
       Much like Woolf, he jumps from topic to topic randomly. To me, this also makes for a better essay because seldom do I sit and think about one topic without my mind wandering away, soon to be thinking about a new topic, in which I then have to retrace my steps to find how and why I am now sitting here thinking of my cousins new puppy when I started with sex without condoms....We all wander...Eggers and Woolf do a great job of pointing this out, and represent how we can use these thought processes to create our "voice" in writing. I am excited to see how Egger's writing style continues throughout this book.

         In my essays I find myself trying to take a broad topic, such as falling in love for the first time and make it relate able for my readers. I have learned that adding those simple details, such as Cheech and Chong in Trey's room, can help to create a connection with my audience because those are the details an individual would pay attention to and remember most. When reading, I find myself more engaged and focused in the material when the Author or Narrator provides something I can relate too, so I find that it is important to establish that connection when I write my own pieces. I would like to think my essay's help show how my experiences have shaped who I am today!

Autumn- Emulating Dillard

Every autumn we revel in the beauty of the fall colors. The mixture of candy apple reds, eggplant purples, oranges varying from burnt to blooming, and vibrant yellows are a result of chemical processes that take place in a tree as the seasons change from summer to winter. Powerful green chlorophyll’s are hard at work developing themselves in the tree’s leaves during spring and summer months producing as much food as possible with the sunlight they have, but when fall and winter come they quit due to the air’s temperature shift. With a job well done by the chlorophyll, the leaves serve no purpose for the trees anymore and are shed from their place, blanketing our fading lawns with a crunchy, crispy, and colorful topping.

My mom, a born-nature lover, is a huge fan of the beautiful autumn season. It was obvious by the décor she littered around our house during these months as I grew up. You could find fake leafy arrangements, pumpkin sculptures made of Styrofoam, and dancing Halloween figurines in every corner of our home. I can still hear her shrieks of excitement when the leaves of our big brown oak which covered our whole front yard in a shadow, hinted any sign of color-change. As soon as the giant oak showered enough leaves, she was the first outside with a rake scraping them into massive a pile in the center of our yard. Knowing this only meant one thing; my sisters and I suited up for an evening of fun.

“KOW-A-BUNGAHHHH” We shrieked with excitement as we leapt off our front steps into the huge pile of nature. We rifled through the pile, grabbing massive clumps, sending them through the air at one another. We dove, jumped, slid, and hurdled through it until all the leaves took their places, back to being scattered in every corner of our yard. My mom never once complained or scolded us for doing so. In fact, every time she would re-rake them into a huge pile knowing it would serve as our playground for the following day. She watched us play from the porch with a smile.

I’ve asked her since then why she never made us rake the yard ourselves, as I would have been annoyed if I were her. She always smiles back at me with the same smile she wore as she watched as play and responds with some quirky comment about the beauty of nature.

 Ohio University is a school known for its beauty. Our rolling hills, brick roads, and luscious state parks were and an important part of why I became a student here, and I have often find myself shrieking with excitement at the beautiful sites I’ve found on our campus. As I dig out my scarves, sweaters, and leathery boots my anxiousness for fall beauty is unbearable. I find myself craving a giant leaf pile to hide from my midterm exams in, and I find that there is only one person I can blame my love for this nature on.

 

 (As I read through Annie Dillard's Essay, Seeing, I picked up on her ability to provide observation into her essay. She describes her "sights" in nature, and has a slight scientific like "rant" tone in her voice. I tried to capture these elements through my piece.)

 

Musical Memories

         If one were to flip through my Itunes they would find no pattern in the way I choose my music. My library ranges from twangy country, to soft lyrical melodies, to obscene rap beats full of ignorant lyrics. I guess you could say I am bipolar when it comes to my music. Each song holds a different meaning to me.
        As I sit here shuffling through my songs, Usher's hip-hop classic Yeah sets me in a homecoming dress, uncomfortable heels, and a stiff over sprayed hair do. Bloc Party's Signs sends me to the funeral of a best friend, stinging my body with goosebumps. Rascal Flatt's Banjo gives me an invisible instrument pounding out the solo in the car with my twin sister after a "long day" of high school. Strawberry Swing, a Coldplay original remade by the lyrical genius, Frank Ocean, helps me to vividly invision the hazy (pun intended) first time I dared to be a rebel. J Cole's Workout brings me to my eighteenth birthday when I had the pleasure to meet him after he wandered into the athletic store I worked at. With every single click of my mouse, a jar of memories is re-opened, creating an array of emotions flooding through my brain.
      If it was not for my diverse music library, some key memories of my life might disappear never to be evoked again. It is a linear relationship, really. As I grow and experience, my library grows and remembers.

Critical- A Natural History of the Senses

“The tiny ridges in our fingertips, whose roughness makes it easier for us to grasp objects, are randomly formed, resulting in the unique swirling weather systems we call “fingerprints.” (Ackerman 117)

Ackerman does it again. I cannot tell if the immense and hyperbolic description is engaging me or making me question how someone can really come up with this stuff. A fingerprint, a topic that to me seems so small, is transformed into a whole paragraph used to describe the touch of something. Maybe I am just having a bad day, but her anecdotes are dramatic and I am sure by the end of the book my annoyance with them may just grow to be unbearable.

One Of Those Nights

I’ll never forget the smell that filled my parent’s bathroom as I sat in their over-sized tub and watched my mother swipe on her mascara. Her powdered deodorant left behind a baby soft aroma as it puffed through the air. The most distinct though was a pure, sweet, and innocent perfume smell. My mom only wore the expensive Angel perfume when my father and she went out on date nights, usually leaving my sisters and I to fend for ourselves that night. To me, Angel smells like mediocre TV movies and kid cuisines.