Collaborative thing

• Boyhood Movie receiving critical praise by many movie reviewers

It fails to appeal to us since it has a seemingly overrated and very uninteresting plot as a whole. The reviews use words like depth and intimacy, along with nostalgia to describe why they believe the movie is a masterpiece. Many also say it's an epic, which we would disagree with. Our revision to the article would be to look at the movie in a vacuum. It's dumb to call a movie an "epic" purely since we can relate with it, it's dumb to call a movie "ambitious" since it played the long con. If you look at the plot line, there isn't actually a plot. There's just a series of documented events that change the course of the young mans life that are more or less glossed over. We feel that this would be much, much more fitting for a book, since it would altogether be less tedious to sit down and have someones childhood replayed to you, and you could afford to go into deeper detail about how things like his parents divorce, and by extension his relationship with his parents had changed his life and outlook.

Page 62 exercise

I don't think this exercise is really doable, without a few days to spare and the endurance of a demigod. Every time we think, every time we speak, every action we take is taking a position of some sort. Right now I'm taking the position that this assignment, while seemingly arbitrary, is there to point this fact out. With the last sentence, I took the position that the exercise has a purpose deeper than face value. I could go on for hours down this seemingly endless rabbit hole. As for the second half of the exercise... (Take a survey of how many people take a position on something) No. Just... No. It's tedious, uninteresting, and will probably gather a few worried glances from whichever parties we are around. It seems weird to make a tally whenever someone says something.

It's safe to say that the amount of positions we take daily are pretty much impossible to keep track of. That and I'm kind of lazy and want to take the philosophical, easy way out.

Literacy narrative revised draft

I addressed some parts I didn't like, improving the pacing and stuff like that. There were also some dumb spelling errors I addressed, since I was transcribing it as fast as possible.

I've always been an avid reader throughout my life. Throughout elementary I was reading all sorts of fantasy novels and comics, but when I graduated to middle school, I never really fit in anywhere. So I just sat at home and read on weekends. All of these memories just sort of blend together, amalgamating into one big lonely memory. Sometimes I'd finish off a book, only to pick up another and burn through it, then revisit the first one. Sometimes I'd get halfway through a book, get bored, and then start another. I read anything in my house, and I mean anything, ranging from Christopher Paolini's breakout hit Eragon, to Stephen King's Tommyknockers, to the translated online manual for the German WWII heavy tank, the Tiger I. But the one memory that really sticks out, was about halfway through the 8th grade.

My day started out with waking up late and not being able to catch a shower, then having to run to the bus stop saxophone in hand, then getting on the bus to find all the seats were filled; except for the one right next to the highschoolers that would constantly taunt me, of course. I get to school to find a field of tests and unfinished homework waiting for me,then the brief reprieve that is lunchtime rolls around. I find an utter lack of money in my lunch account, and I decide going hungry is better than begging my few friends for food. The last half of the day finishes uneventfully, with the rain clouds rolling in, dark and ominous. I hop back onto the bus, mercifully at the front, and show up to an empty house. As it turns out my parents had to work late.

Breathing a long dejected sigh, I realize after all the testing, I had no homework. The rest of the day was mine. So I grab the book I had just started, the Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, and decide to go hang out in the woods for a bit.

I had a friend who lived in the same neighborhood as I a long time ago, and we spent quite a bit of time out there in that forest. We let our imaginations run wild, slaying droves upon droves of imaginary bad guys, building forts out of fallen trees and branches, maybe stealing a tarp or two from our dads for the cause. He had moved away that summer, leaving me pretty much alone in terms of that age group, and I wasn't too fond of hanging out with 7 year old girls. We had built this little house out there, maybe six feet by six feet on its edges, just tall enough for us to crawl into. It was constructed out of two fallen trees, laying on top of each other at a 90 degree angle, with a thick branch forming the last point.  We then weaved branches to form mostly windproof walls, and then wove a tarp into the roof for waterproofing. It was full of memories of food, snuck out there against the requests of my friends parents, camp outs, airsoft wars, and it was probably my favorite place to be. Thinking of those days lead me to another bout of melancholy loneliness.

I found my way to this little cabin, book in hand, as the rain really started to fall  I quickly crawl inside and find the comfiest spot in the dirt possible.

I thought, "I really need to get some cushions out here."

There was enough light leaking through the artificial blue sky for me to read comfortably, so I crack open the book.

I had always been a fan of Lord of the Rings, especially after seeing the movies, but I never realized just how much story there was to it.  I found myself lost in a near endless sea of names and references, having to go back and cross reference names with acts, to see who was behind what, what influenced who, and what so-and-so meant with this. I ended up staying out there, reading halfway through the 398 page book over the course of 3 hours, but I was so wrapped up in it that the time passed only felt like 3 minutes. I feel something vibrate, snapping me back into reality. It was just starting to get dark out. It vibrates again, and I pull my phone out of my pocket.

I clear my throat, feeling awkward for letting that much time slip by unnoticed.

"H-Hello?" I nervously stammer into the receiver.

"Hey, time to come home, dinner's ready. Where are you?" my dad replies, with a slightly worried tone.

"I was just out in the woods." I breathe, relieved.

"Alright, see you in a second."

I crawl out of the shanty, covering the knees of my pants in dirt, and stretch out a bit. The rain had stopped and there was the greatest smell of all, the springtime smell of fresh soil after a warm rain. I stepped back out onto the road, book tucked under my arm, feeling refreshed, miles better than I had before I had gotten home.

My day had transformed from one of frustration, depression, loneliness and bittersweet memories to one with a refreshed outlook. Maybe the day wasn't that bad. It put things in perspective for me. Not getting a shower in the morning sure is a lot better than getting stabbed by some wraith and then having to carry a ring that slowly turns you crazy across a continent.

I remember this thought the most, since it has influenced me in quite a few ways.

It really secured my love for the outdoors, doing things like camping and hunting. It really lets me get away from all the stresses of daily life, and get back in tune with nature. There's something just amazing about being alone in the woods, watching, waiting, listening. You are a fly on the wall to nature, watching how it works. It really reminds you of how small you can be.

Second, it secured my love for writing and reading. There's just something about being able to form worlds, create personalities, spin up a web of history with just a few taps of a keyboard, or strokes of a pen, while simultaneously being able to wipe it all out with a quick ctrl+a, delete. Being able to tap into what another person is thinking, decode the symbolism and metaphor, to find what they truly mean is like nothing else. Being able to see a snapshot of life from a book published 30, 40, even 50 years ago is amazing. Granted, some people take it a little too far and smash the reader over the head with a sack full of bricks labeled "Allegory", it's still interesting to see how another person feels about a topic without explicitly saying it.

Third most, it showed me that what goes on in my daily life really isn't that big ofa  deal. Flunked a test? Oh well. Just be sure to study next time, and retake it. Forget the homework? No big deal, just another day to study it. Granted, that sort of lackadaisical thinking gets me into trouble, it generally leads me to take things slower and I screw up less.

I think I wouldn't be the person I am today, without days like the above help me put things into perspective. I wouldn;t enjoy reading and writing nearly as much as I do now without them, either. Most of all I don't think I would appreciate the outdoors ads much as I do now. All in all, reading made me who I am today.

Literacy Narrative rough draft

I've always been an avid reader throughout my life. Throughout elementary I was reading all sorts of fantasy novels and comics. I graduated to middle school, and since I never really fit in anywhere I just sat at home and read on weekends. All of these memories just sort of blend together, amalgamating into one big lonely memory. Sometimes I'd finish off a book, only to pick up another and burn through it, then revisit the first one. Sometimes I'd get halfway through a book, get bored, then start another. I read anything in my house, and I mean anything, ranging from Christopher Paolini's breakout hit Eragon, to Stephen King's Tommyknockers, to the translated online manual for the German WWII heavy tank, the Tiger I. But the one memory that really sticks out, was about halfway through the 8th grade.

My day started out with waking up late and not being able to catch a shower, then having to run to the bus stop saxophone in hand, getting on the bus to find all the seats were filled; except for the one right next to the highschoolers that would constantly taunt me, of course. I get to school to find a field of tests and unfinished homework waiting for me. Then the brief reprieve that is lunchtime rolls around, where I find an utter lack of money in my account. I decide going hungry is better than begging my few friends for food. The last half of the day finishes uneventfully, with the rain clouds rolling in, dark and ominous. I hop back onto the bus, mercifully at the front, and show up to an empty house. Turns out my parents had to work late.

Breathing a long dejected sigh, I realize after all the testing, I had no homework. The rest of the day was mine. So I grab the book I had just started, the Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, and decide to go hang out in the woods for a bit.

I had a friend who lived in the same neighborhood as I a long time ago, and we spent quite a bit of time out there. We let our imaginations run wild, slaying droves upon droves of imaginary bad guys, building forts out of fallen trees and branches, maybe stealing a tarp or two from our dads for the cause. He had moved away that summer, leaving me pretty much alone in terms of that age group, and I wasn't too fond of hanging out with 7 year old girls. We had built this little house out there, maybe six feet by six feet on its edges, just tall enough for us to crawl into. It was constructed out of two fallen trees, laying on top of each other at a 90 degree angle, with a thick branch forming the last point.  We then interleaved branches to form mostly windproof walls, and then wove a tarp into the roof for waterproofing. It was full of memories of food, snuck out there against the requests of my friends parents, camp outs, airsoft wars, and it was probably my favorite place to be. Thinking of those days lead me to another bout of melancholy loneliness.

I found my way to this little cabin, book in hand, as the rain really started to fall  I quickly crawl inside and find the comfiest spot in the dirt possible.

I thought, "I really need to get some cushions out here."

There was enough light leaking through the artificial blue sky for me to read comfortably, so I crack open the book.

I had always been a fan of Lord of the Rings, especially after seeing the movies, but I never realized just how much story there was to it.  I found myself lost in a near endless sea of names and references, having to go back and cross reference names with acts, to see who was behind what, what influenced who, and what so-and-so meant with this. I ended up staying out there, reading halfway through the 398 page book over the course of 3 hours, but I was so wrapped up in it that the time passed only felt like 3 minutes. I feel something vibrate, snapping me back into reality. It was just starting to get dark out. It vibrates again, and I pull my phone out of my pocket.

I clear my throat, feeling awkward for letting that much time slip by unnoticed.

"H-Hello?" I nervously stammer into the reciever.

"Hey, time to come home, dinner's ready. Where are you?" my dad replies, with a slightly worried tone.

"I was just out in the woods." I breathe, relieved.

"Alright, see you in a second."

I crawl out of the shanty, covering the knees of my pants in dirt, and stretch out a bit. The reain had stopped and there was the greatest smell of all, the springtime smell of fresh soil after a warm rain. I stepped back out onto the road, book tucked under my arm, feeling refreshed, miles better than I had before I had gotten home.

My day had transformed from one of frustration, depression, loneliness and bittersweet memories to one with a refreshed outlook. Maybe the day wasn't that bad. It put things in perspective for me. Not getting a shower in the morning sure is a lot better than getting stabbed by some wraith and then having to carry a ring that slowly turns you crazy across a continent.

I remember this thought the most, since it has influenced me in quite a few ways.

It really secured my love for the outdoors, doing things like camping and hunting. It really lets me get away from all the stresses of daily life, and just get back in tune with nature. There's something just amazing about being alone in the woods, watching, waiting, listening. You are a fly on the wall to nature, watching how it works. It really reminds you of how small you can be.

Second, it secured my love for writing and reading. There's just something about being able to form worlds, create personalities, sping up a web of history with just a few taps of a keyboard, or strokes of a pen, while simultaneously being able to wipe it all out with a quick ctrl+a, delete. Being able to tap into what another person is thinking, decode the symbolism and metaphor, to find what they truly mean is like nothing else. Being able to see a snapshot of life from a book published 30, 40, even 50 years ago is amazing. Granted, some people take it a little too far and smash the reader over the head with a sack full of bricks labeled "Allegory", it's still interesting to see how another person feels about a topic without explicitly saying it.

Third most, it showed me that what goes on in my daily life really isn't that big ofa  deal. Flunked a test? Oh well. Just be sure to study next time, and retake it. Forget the homework? No big deal, just another day to study it. Granted, that sort of lackadaisical thinking gets me into trouble, it generally leads me to take things slower and I screw up less.

I think I wouldn't be the person I am today, without days like the above help me put things into perspective. I wouldn;t enjoy reading and writing nearly as much as I do now without them, either. Most of all I don't think I would appreciate the outdoors ads much as I do now. All in all, reading made me who I am today.

Literacy Narrative topics

So today I've been tasked with brainstorming a few ideas on what topics I'll use in our upcoming "literacy narrative". It really shouldn't be hard for me, since I've spent quite some time reading as a kid.

My first choice in topic would be how I fell in love with the world J.R.R Tolkien had crafted so long ago. I remember the first time I read it, I got lost in the stories of the characters, and how insanely deep the world actually was. It was really sparked my interest in writing and reading as a whole, and to date I've read the trilogy five times. With how detailed the books themselves are, how grandiose the imagery was, the history behind all the characters, more and more gets revealed every time, and I want to be able to craft worlds as deep and rich as him. The first time it struck me just how much I loved the books was on a rainy day outside, sitting out in the woods in the little hutch me and a friend had made, just reading and shutting out the world around me. The smell of the moist dirt and mulch underneath me, the sound of the rain pattering all around, it was just amazing.

The next choice would be the time I was oh-so-rudely interrupted by the group that would become my best friends. I was just sitting on the bus, minding my own business, reading something or other, when one of them straight up asked if I liked paintball. I did, so I answered accordingly, and everything rolled downhill from there.

Anyways I'm tired, so I'm going to bed, with almost 300 words typed.

Response towards commenting on posts

Commenting on things over the internet, especially things with our real life names tied to them, is hardly any different than sharing it in person, it's just that the other guy can't punch you for calling them stupid or something. I viewed it no differently than the "Write a bio" assignment. If it were to be pseudo-anonymity, where we all had different screen names that we didn't associate with in any way other than opinion, then we could afford to be harsher and pick apart the post more, since we wouldn't have to tiptoe around whether or not they would get their feelings hurt.

Before speaking with my group, I only saw Rhetoric as a tool, a means to an end. It was a way of displaying information in a way that it would benefit the user, based on what the user wanted. After discussing it, we figured out that while that definition fit, the act of using it to display information turned it into a tool for persuasion by definition.

The definition of Rhetoric

Rhetoric: To target an audience through your vocabulary, pacing, and choice of supporting media.

That would be my definition of the word, which more or less matches up with the official definition, in more casual wording. What it basically boils down to, is that you can change the way you present whatever it is you are trying to get across, in order to appeal to different groups. For instance, if I were to go into a kindergarten class and explain something technical, I'd probably break it down to its simplest forms, use lots of visuals, and ultimately give up since I suck at teaching.

Another thing to take into account, besides making big nice looking posters, is your actual word choice.

I wouldn't walk into an IT convention, and talk about packet loss with terminology like "And then, when the signal (Just like what comes out of radios) comes out of the wireless internet wand, some of it gets lost on the way home!". I'd probably be called a pretentious jerk and laughed out. I'd straight up just say "And when the wifi signals get transferred to the modem/router (Can't quite remember which one specifically), it can get jumbled by all sorts of crap like radio signals, cell phone signals, even stray microwave radiation."

The difference there is that, with the kindergarteners, I'd have to break it all the way down to its lightest, easiest to digest form possible, maybe using a couple of bright visuals displaying what was going on. In said IT convention, I could just use the normal terminology, and skip straight to the solution.

Anyways that's a little over 200 words, so I'm done for tonight.

Professional Authors vs. Everyday Authors, Formal vs. Informal writing.

         Professional authors                               Everyday authors

Goes through a publisher	Publishes by themselves
Spends years writing a book	Spends hours writing a post
Has multiple iterations	One big tweaked post
Has to build on multiple ideas	Can spin an idea in their own way
Has to cite sources, lest they get ignored by publishers	Can get away with not citing sources

  

             
          Formal writing                                          Informal writing

Multiple iterations of an idea	One big long ramble, no drafts
Has formal citing	Has informal citing, or no citing in the writing
Has to weigh pros and cons of an idea	Can get away with providing one side of the argument
Needs to use full words, provide acronyms with context	Can use acronyms and shortened words
Needs to use cut and dry language	Can be full of slang

            

1)      How did these differences come to mind?

Having had experience with both formal and informal writing, supplemented by what I read in Everyone’s an Author, it was pretty easy just to jot down a quick list.

2)      How did you find those that didn’t first come to mind?

I just used personal experience to differentiate between the two, and Google helped a little bit. 

3)      Why are these important, or are most writers and/or writing really more points on a continuum rather than strictly one or the other?

I think it is more on a continuum than a fine line, because every audience is different. If it’s a science committee, you are generally going to be as cut and dry as possible, but if it’s just a blog post about fried chicken, you are going to keep the syllable count under 5. If you were writing about how to do something, you can put it together like you were talking with friends, but still have lots of good information and do your research to prove what you are trying to say, sort of splitting the writing between the two categories.

4)      How can being aware of these differences help you in your own writing situations?

It can help so we don’t look like idiots in front of important people with our writing, but we can still remain accessible to our peers. It can also help by showing that we care enough about something to perform a sort of formal writing, but not so formal as to alienate casual readers. 

(edit: My tables are all jacked up. Can't quite figure out how to fix them. Oh well.)

Is everyone an author?

So Everyone is an Author is the textbook we were given to study for English 101 at Olympic College. It's a book that, even in it's first few pages, acknowledges that it took a rather "provocative title", which is a statement that I can definitely agree with. But, before we continue, I'm going to just share why I take issue with the title: "All blanket statements are false".

Now you probably see why the two relate, but since I'm getting all preachy, pedantic, and pretentious, I'll explain. What I mean by "All blanket statements are false", is that there will always be an exception to the rule. There are even exceptions to that rule. For instance, you'd be hard pressed to say "Ethnic cleansing is a good thing!" to the public without a vehement response, but even then there's people sick enough to agree with you! Anyways, I think the title could use a rework. It should be more along the lines of Everyone is a Writer or I guess you can hold a pen, good job.

With "Everyone is an Author", there's always going to be people that absolutely lack the sense of rhetoric, that can't write something worth publishing, etc. Most of the cases the book makes in its first few pages, such as the student making the facebook page, the small group making recipes and posting them to a cooking blog, are what I would classify as being just your ordinary writer. Their work is being recognized by peers, yes, but I could write a short poem about a man who had a gassy dog and post it on a joke website. That shouldn't put me in the same league as Rowling, Clancy and Tolkien.

So in short, after all that senseless rambling, what the defining difference between a "Writer" and an "Author" is if your writing is recognized by more than just those around you. I think the title of the book, especially in the context of the introduction, throws around the title of Author much too carelessly.





(Just a little note, without the dribble about blanket statements, including the last sentence in the first paragraph, it counted out to 214 words. Boom.)

I’m Nickalaus Mooth, spelled that way exactly, no matter how much the school system for the last 12 years says differently. I’d much rather be called Nick, though, since it sounds better, looks better, is more efficient to say, etc. I’m here at OC to make up for my rather lackluster schooling career (Can you really call it that?), and to get a jump start on what it is I’ll be doing down the road. Currently, I’m a kind of self-employed graphics designer. I use software to make designs for Game Developers and they thank me with access to beta tests and stuff like that. I also play a lot of videogames, as well, obscene amounts even. I’ve gotten to the point where I’m doing gameplay analysis for high tier “E-sports” teams across the US for a few different games, since I really don’t dig the stress of being on an actual team (Y’know, no to brag or anything). I’m looking for an actual job, but are pretty much guaranteed a spot at the local Gamestop if worse goes to worst.  One of my favorite activities, besides making horrible transitions, is to go shooting. I’ve got a Mossberg 500 12 Gauge shotgun that I use to hunt the majestic Northwestern Clay Pigeon, and an old Yugoslavian SKS that spits fireballs downrange farther than actual bullets. I also have a Weatherby Vanguard in 30.06 that can put 5 bullets in the same hole from 100 yards which I love. I’ve also got a cat who is pretty cool. It’s a five month old tabby that would rather attack my legs when I am doing something than cuddle, which I’m totally ok with since she’s kind of really adorable. On top of all that crap I’m also what could be considered a musician since I play guitar, bass, mandolin, and 2 types of saxophone. Granted I’m pretty mediocre at all of the aforementioned instruments, I still play them.

-          What is your cats’ name? Dot

-          What are the two types of Saxophone? Alto and Tenor

-          What’s your favorite videogame? Team Fortress 2

1)      How did knowing you’d be sharing your Bio with the class influence the details you chose to write about?

Well, I figured that we’d be sharing it so I wrote it as if I was having a conversation with someone. That way I’d be addressing most questions in the writing except for the little details. I really wouldn’t change a thing.

2)      Were you surprised by the questions your partner asked you?

Not really. In fact I kind of banked on those questions being asked, due to me being a little more vague about their subjects.

3)      How did the questions make you rethink your bio?

See: Question 1

4)      What would you change, add, or omit now that you’ve done this exercise?

See: Question 1

5)      We all know how to… Written by the act of writing?

Quite frankly I’m not sure I understand the question completely. The first way I interpret it though, is “How do we change what we write about ourselves to get the approval of others?” To this I reply with: I don’t. I don’t change anything. If someone doesn’t like me because of some superficial reason, I would probably be happier. If the question is addressing about which form of writing we use, then I’d say I would change it depending on who it was being introduced to. I would keep all the same information, because why would I lie or omit what makes me? I would only change how formal or informal it is. I knew that I was just going to be talking with my peers, so what’s the point of going through all the reading/proofreading/editing that would be necessary for introducing myself to the President? Also, I’d hate to be (As Christopher Walken would put it) interpreted as a “Stiffy McStifferson”. I don’t want people thinking I’m someone I’m not.

A third way this could be interpreted is “Are there limitations to how you present yourself on paper?” to which I’d say “Wholeheartedly.” As I said above, it’s highly dependent on who you are talking to. If it’s to the President, you are probably going to gloss over your personal life, and get more in depth with your achievements. He probably doesn't want to hear about how you miss your cat. If it’s your best friend, then you will probably be getting in depth with emotions and all that embarrassing stuff. But, for instance, if it’s with a fellow classmate, you are probably going to find a nice balance of both. All in all, I’d say that our writing style should be dictated by who we are surrounded by and who we are meeting, but letting yourself get edited out is just as bad as lying to the person you are writing to.