Procrastination Station

    My computer, is a procrastination station. I built it for high quality game graphics and to handle my abuse of higher quality videos and editing software. I use it for my homework of course. I have two 3 page essays due today and I had to deactivate my Facebook last night because I would get on to do my financial aid/write on the blog/homework and spend more than an hour catching up on everyone's posts. I deactivate my Facebook often because it's too time consuming. I finally finished my financial aid entrance counseling, my " think about it " course for school boring because they don't want us to get raped or do drugs and drink to much. I felt most of the information was common sense, I know what a " hook up " is, but apparently they had to teach me regardless. It was designed well, but the information in the first half was common knowledge. I learned more about how to keep a buzz though with out getting drunk. Hooray!!  During the course, they say that if your BAC is below a .02 you can drive legally but you might be impaired. Which is weird because I was taught as a kid that if you even have one drink that's light on alcohol you can't/shouldn't drive.

Anyhow, I'm writing an essay about this image right now:

[ Ad for reporting child abuse] 

"Some people look at a child and don't see a child"

   I'm not having a hard time because there is so much to talk about this image even though the content is so simple. Here is my intro paragraph, I thought it was clever :  

       A young female walks into the restaurant, she is wearing eye catching colors and her strawberry blonde hair is long and soft. You make eye contact and she smiles directly at you. Her lips are moist and they shimmer in the light with a cherry red glow, your favorite color. She sits next to you at the diner bar and tells you her name, she seems to be interested, are you?  You place your hand softly on her back and introduce yourself by offering a hand shake and a drink. A women with a stern voice approaches you, she takes her daughter by the hand as the child hops off the bar stool. The mother is disgusted with you, how far could you have gone if she hadn't shown up.

            The disgusting thought of being tricked into thinking this passage was about a young attractive adult women looking for attention is embarrassing. The truth is, some people look at a child and don't see a child.  Just like the ad, this passage captures the audience’s attention immediately.

   My prologue seems powerful, it grabs you in and then throws you under the bus for " assuming" she was of age in the first sentence. Gotcha, shes like 6. Which reminds me, my essay is due at 6 pm and I'm not done. One page left, then I have to write another essay about a statue.



-Allison

Ps. I'm currently drowning a stink bug because I don't wanna kill and get the smell everywhere. Is that cruel? 

English Paper Draft #1

   Do you ever have the urge to correct peoples grammar? Maybe even help others with their sentence structure?

Well, it is your lucky day!

I have an English assignment this week, and I have a draft of something I really loved to write. Keep in mind it will be changed to accommodate the jumping around/lack of information in some areas. I was supposed to write a page or two in hand written form, and I went five and a quarter pages long.  What you are about to read is a little snippet from Cody's birthday I experienced. If you enjoy reading awfully written things, and like to know every detail about some of our days together. I mean, who doesn't. Here it is:

       Recently, it was my boyfriends 24th birthday. We wanted to do something special since last year we just went out for dinner. As someone who always over does things, like spending money on someone, or elaborate surprises. I'm always doing things for Cody he would never suspect. 
               Unfortunately, we have been short on money because the start of school has now turned our wallets into ghost towns. With such a lack of money, it was hard to think of something we both could do that was romantic and cheap. I figured out you don't have to spend money to give someone the best gift, and to show them how much you appreciate them. 
              When Saturday arrived I had decided to go to his house while he was at work. I could set up  the surprise until 8:15 pm. Which at that time he would then open the tired door and lug his meat stenched clothes that draped over his body into the hall and carelessly toss his bag into his room. I had thought of a perfect way to induce a wave of exhaustion and then blow it away with butterflies in his stomach.
A birthday dinner at 8:30pm
            Such a late time for dinner. Although I wasn't going to drive somewhere to pay for Cody to fall asleep in warm spaghetti. I was so eager to set up my surprise, I paced back and forth like a dog ready to go outside for the first time after a long night of sleep. I had a problem with timing things correctly. I would always cook the food too early, or too late and there was never a happy medium. Where the cooking gods would bless my oven with perfectly cooked pasta and the clock would strike for dinner. 
            7:00 had shown on the clock, and it chimed like a gunshot at a marathon. As if the clock was telling me "Go!"  seven times with every ding. I took out some chicken and flopped it on the grill. Then, I scattered for some sticky notes until I stumbled upon an old pad of Betty Boop ones. The poorest excuse for "sticky notes" I had ever seen. The notes lifelessly fell from where I needed them to be. 
          I stuck the notes with tacks and moved on. I had created a maze of notes to walk him through the house and twice again. I quickly reminded my self I had chicken cooking on the grill, which I cut into succulent perfect strips and dropped them into a sauce pan filled with mixed ingredients ready to boil. I leaped down the hall and swiftly jumped into my semi-fancy clothes I had carefully picked out the night before.I set a table on the back porch with a few candles, sparkling apple cranberry cider with some champagne glasses, and the essential plates and silverware. The clock crept to 7:45, was I going to make it?
           I busted into the bathroom and took a look in the mirror. The mess of lions mane that bends and twists like used and forgotten pipe cleaners starred back at me. I needed to straighten it, to tame the wild beast. A hair tie, 3 bobby pins, and 4 burned fingers later I had managed to fix it. It looked as if it was trying to escape the perfectly straight look and would curl to rebel against me. I sighed, this hair was not made to be on the cover of a magazine. It wanted to run free with the fly-aways and the amaturely cut bangs. 
          The clock struck 8:00. This was it, I went into the kitchen where my nose flooded with sweet tomatoes and Parmesan and scooped up the chicken and pasta that had been keeping warm in the oven. The smell made my stomach growl, which had not been fed since noon. I dipped my finger in the warm sauce and pinched a rotini. My mouth watered with excitement. It tasted so perfect, this was the best dish for a surprise birthday dinner. I put it into a glass bowl and covered it with its matching lid. I then proceed to bring the prepared food outside. I took a seat and kept my happy fidgeting to a minimum. 
          At this time Cody was slugging out of work and ready for the short commute home. I was quietly sitting in the back yard listening to a never ending noise of cars zooming by on the highway. It crushed my mood, this was not romance. Police sirens and angry honks from across the yard and down the hill flooded into my area of the sweet  well cooked meal along with the smell of burning wax. I hear the front door creak open and slam as the springs put up a fight with the opening force of his hand. His foot steps drag an eternity down the hall and a beam of light hits the back yard. 
          It seemed like years before I heard any noise coming from inside. I decided to find something to listen to so it could drown out the constant arguing between cars on the highway. I found a great three hour track of the score for Skyrim,  a beautiful game with mystical atmosphere and dragons. 
          My notes led him through the front door and around to the back yard. The darkness shielded my eyes from seeing my over worked boyfriend with hat hair and an 8 o'clock shadow. The suspense was pushing on my heart. Is he standing there? Do I look like a fool peering into the darkness?  "Allison?" , Codys silky voice was coated with the roughness of a long day. I jumped, dropping my iPad onto my lap. He was standing on the deck already. 
        "Happy Birthday , Cody!" I smiled so quickly. He had waited 12 hours for this moment. Even though he had no clue he was even waiting for it. To finally start his birthday and end it with me next to him. I had done it, I had given him the best gift I could give him with out paying a penny. 

Alright so give me your thoughts, I figure Mondays can be personal days about our lives or something equivalent.  Don't worry though, the posts wont all be this long..
-Allison 

 "Essays suck"- Me

 

Popular Art

    So today with a good chunk of the new incoming students to Lyme we went to the Yale University Art Gallery, in New Haven. After a pretty long bus ride, of which I haven't had since around middle school because I walked to school in high school, we arrived. There was a lot of art from all over the world from many different eras on display.
 

    Hundreds of beautiful pieces of work, but I was pleasantly surprised to hear that they had some pieces by Roy Lichtenstein, a pop artist whose worked I've enjoyed and "studied" through various projects and reports throughout my academic career in middle, and high school.

    It was pretty amazing to see some of these pieces in person for the first time, photographs and scans give off the impression that the art is exactly perfect. While still tedious, and meticulously put together the artists hand is visible if you can put yourself 6 inches away from the canvas'. Which is something I enjoy very much in art, one of the things that makes something a piece of art, rather than a piece of media to me is the link to the artist themselves.

-Cody