Why I Read Post 1

Post 1

There are a multitude of reasons why I read. Some books I read for knowledge. This includes textbooks and webpages about stuff similar to what's in the textbook. Usually this type of reading is forced. However there is some knowledge that I find fun to attain. Sports stories and statistics are basically the first thing I read when I wake up and the last thing I read before bed. I love to know what's going on in the sport world. Another reason why I read is because I have to. I had to read "In Cold Blood" and I had to read "Frankenstein." Both of those don't fit my taste in books. My favorite reason to read is because I enjoy it. I like to see what stories that authors have envisions and given life. Sometimes the false reality in a story can be just as realistic as the one we live everyday. Creating a different reality or even an impossible reality is often more fun than reading about what has already happened. (Ex: In a history textbook.) One other great reason to read is because it makes you a better writer. Learning about possible writing styles or what topics satisfy you really help shape who you are as an author.

Blog 4

The writing I chose is one that I believe uses some nice figurative language and specificity. I put it in spots where I felt it added to reader comprehension and understanding. This writing is about a man who reluctantly moves to a home in the wilderness with his wife. He gets more than he bargained for... P.S.- it's long

Zachary Jedding

Ms. Bruewer

Creative Writing 1

April 3, 2014

Rocky Mountain Low

            I piloted the U-Haul through the winding roads of the misty Rocky Mountains. The path was cracked and beaten. The roads were so worn that there wasn’t even a median anymore. My wife Sharon sat sleeping in the passenger seat. Her feet were on the dashboard and sunglasses were on her eyes. Her right hand dangled lazily out the window. Traffic had slowed to a crawl. Well, I had slowed to a crawl. We were the only ones making the excursion up the mountain. The sun peeked through the trees and glared off the hood of the truck. I was thinking about taking Sharon’s glasses so I wouldn’t blind myself and crash. A crash? A crash on this road would turn into a three hundred foot free fall. Maybe I would go and pick myself up some sunglasses later. The only question is where do I get sunglasses around here? The only shop I had seen since we passed  the base of the mountain was a rotten shack on the side of the road. With a name like “Crusty Clem’s Critters” I did not think I would be buying any food from there though. There sure were a lot of critters around here. I had seen several different kinds in the last mile aloe. Furry ones, spiky ones, wire- haired ones, dark ones, light ones… I even saw a flat one on the side of the road if you get me. I was also a little taken back at how rugged this place was. All the terrain had a fierce but beautiful nature to it. The warm reds and yellows mixed with the cool greens and blues to form a picture book portrait. I hope this is what we wanted. Sharon had convinced me it was.

            The last stretch of road disappeared under the truck and a dirt path took its place. It was actually more like a driveway because in a few seconds we had pulled up at the house. I took the key out of the ignition and the engine made a sputtering sound similar to that of a rock in a lawn mower. I took a deep breath. The mountain air was so fresh. It was as if everything was coated in Pine-Sol. Sharon was woken from her slumber by the sound of the engine exploding. She stepped out of the cab and let out a yawn that sounded like a whale song.

“WHHHHAAAAAAAAHHHHHHWWW!” She belted.

I guess sleeping for five hours while your husband drives up a mountain is tiring. We both walked toward our new home. It was large and looming. It had a log cabin style to it and décor to match. The backyard was mainly tall pine trees. This place probably had been Abraham Lincoln’s vacation home. It looked as if it were about to collapse.  Before I could say anything, my wife had already gone inside.

            “Come on honey! Let’s go discover this beautiful place!” she yelled.

            “Be right there!” I replied.

What had I gotten myself into?

            I crept inside the door. The smell of rotten oak slapped me in the face as soon as I got in.

            “What is the awful smell?” I asked.

            “That is the smell of new beginnings dear!” declared Sharon.

            “New beginnings needs to take himself a shower then.”

I walked around. The animal pelts on the floors and severed deer heads on the walls were a nice touch. I mean if we were cavemen. The hallway leading to the dining room was filled with wood décor. Wood tables, wood lamps (and I’m sure it’s not safe to have wood near a burning bulb), wood floors, and even wooden walls. The architect that designed this place definitely had an affinity for wood. I browsed the living room. It stayed true to the house’s animal skinned tone. The whole room seemed to be centered toward the towering fireplace in the middle of the room. Fortunately, the fireplace wasn’t made of wood. Its brick pillars jutted out from the oaken floors like a sore thumb, but at least we wouldn’t burn our home down. I turned to go into the kitchen and heard a shrill screeching sound from the chimney.

            “It’s haunted! I knew it Sharon! Call a priest quickly!” I screamed in terror.

            “Your overreacting love, calm down!” she pleaded.

She then picked up a large fire-poker and shoved it into the blackness of the chimney. What came out was beyond belief. A swarm of bats stormed out of the abyss like a cloud of ebony smoke! We ran for our lives! Sharon ducked behind a sofa, and I used a hanging animal pelt as a shield. The horrid things were everywhere! Hissing and shrieking like monsters.

            “Quick, open a window!” Sharon called.

I grabbed a set of cup holders off the table and flung them at the rats with wings. They parted for a moment and I made my move. I lunged at the window and pushed it open. One bat was brave enough to head toward the light and the rest followed. The last bat flapped its way out and I slammed the window shut. Sharon and I both looked at each other.

“I think one of them tried to steal my soul.” I said

“I’m gonna go take a shower.”

            I cranked the nozzle and waited. I half expected a stream of blood to come out given my last bad experience. To my surprise a stream of fresh mountain water came pouring out and I disrobed while my shower heated. I peeked out a window… it was getting dark. Tomorrow I would have to find somebody to come clear out the bats. I really didn’t want to live here. Sharon wanted this quite mountain life. I was a city boy. Born and raised in South Detroit. No joke. I liked my chimneys clean of bats and my house not to be on top of my mountain. This was rough. I didn’t have the heart to tell Sharon how I felt. I hoped a shower would cleanse me of my sorrows. I stepped in. The water rushed over me like a soothing stream. I wasn’t melting so that was a plus. I guess the shower would have to be my new escape. Just as I had started to enjoy   myself, tragedy struck. Down from the rafters fell a finagled furry frenzy of an animal.

            “AHHHHHHH! What are you?!” I shouted and ran out of the shower.

I grabbed a robe and dashed out the bathroom. What on earth was that? A puma? A rabbit? It fell and didn’t move.

            “Sharon! A baby werewolf just tried to shower with me!”

            “You’re just traumatized from the bats dear. Go back to your shower.”

Well since she wasn’t going to help me I would have to do it myself. I grabbed the rusted shovel from the fire and crept toward my bathroom which had now become a slaughterhouse.

            This was the beginning to bad horror story. Mystery beast falls from sky, man investigates. I peeked through the bathroom door to size up my competition. It was a rotund little creature. Rather chubby and coated head to toe in wispy tufts of fur. I moved toward it for a closer look. Black stripes, white face, sharp claws… raccoon. It hadn’t moved. I took some more cautious steps forward and made my move. POKE…… nothing. POKE, POKE…… still nothing. The fur ball wasn’t even moving. I mean not even breathing! Wait a second… this coon was dead. That was when I first took notice of the stench. If a garbage truck crashed into a recycling truck and a truck carrying porta- potties, and they all fell into a sewage treatment center ten you would be left with the odor that this little guy gave off. This was even more repulsive than the morning breath of a ninety year old man with Halitosis. Like driving by a cow farm after all the cows have been fed prunes and given extra strength laxatives. The point is; it was nasty. I scooped up the carcass and gingerly carried it outside. I stood on the porch and whipped the body into the night!

            “Smell ya later friend!” I proclaimed with a smile.

Little did I know that tossing a raccoon body into the woods would be one off the worst mistakes of my life.

            The hearth was radiating a toasty warmth and my shower had been cleansed of all unholy demon raccoons. Life was good! Well, life was better. Sharon and I were curled up on a deer pelt couch and swaddled in a bear fur blanket. I was just about to lose consciousness for the night when I heard a creaking noise outside.

            “Aww are you hungry dear?” asked Sharon.

“That wasn’t my stomach.” I replied.

We gave each other nervous looks. It was the raccoon! He came back as a zombie and now he was trying to eat our souls for sustenance! After a moment of silence, we heard a bone chilling growl. Let me try to describe it for you: GGGHHHRRROOOWWHHLLWWHHRRGGRROOOHWW! Pretty terrifying huh? Wait, it gets better. I opened up a curtain half expecting to see a blue whale at my door. Oh how I wish it was only a whale. Upon my porch was a monstrous looking beast! Coated in wiry fur and rippling muscles. Its maw was stained red with blood. In its teeth, I saw a raccoon tail. Whoops. Next time I find a coon in my shower I’ll just smash it down the garbage disposal.

            “Sharon get the gun!” I screamed.

            “We don’t have a gun! You were too afraid of them to buy one!”

            “Now is not the time to point fingers Sharon! We need to get out of here!”

The beast was hungry. His small stinky snack was only enough to spark his metabolism. He wanted blood. I knew we shouldn’t have used a bear pelt blanket. It was probably his cousin. I spied the U-Haul in the distance. Could we make it to the truck? We had to try. 

            “I’m going to cause a distraction and I want you to go start the truck.”

            “I can’t just leave you baby! I’m staying here with you!”

GRRRAAAAWWW! He was getting impatient. Like he was waiting for food at a restaurant.

            “You have to! This house is a death trap.”

I kissed Sharon and leapt out the window. Why I didn’t use the door is unknown. I banged the iron rod against the metal railing if the porch swing. It made an evil, shrill sound. Grizzly McFatcakes came lumbering toward me and I could feel him peering into my soul. He could smell my fear. I took a few steps back as Sharon crept out the door. She snuck across the yard to the truck and hopped in.  She was safe but I was going to die. I jabbed at him with the poker but he legitimately swatted it out of my hand and snapped it in two. True story. The rusty poker lay shattered on the ground. Shattered like my dreams of opening up my own gerbil boutique. Whoops, it’s funny how you reveal you innermost secrets right before you die. I was defenseless and the mammoth was closing in for the kill. He stood up tall on his hind legs and let out one last blood curdling cry! GRRRRAAAAAAAHHHHHHWWW!  Suddenly I heard the honk of the truck’s horn. The bear was distracted for a moment and I bolted for the car. I never ran so fast in my life. I must have set a world record. The world around me was a blur and before I knew it I was at the truck. I put that sucker in gear and sped down the mountain. I could see the bear in my mirror, sulking in defeat. The prey had outsmarted the predator. Sharon and I gave each other big embraces. We had made it!

 I noticed Sharon was on her phone on the drive down the mountain.

            “What ya doin’ babe?” I asked.

            “Looking for houses in Detroit. That place must be condemned.”

“Honestly honey I was never fond of living in the wilderness. Now you know why.”

“I’m sorry you felt forced to move here.”

“It’s okay Sharon. We had to try it. At least I’m not in a bear’s stomach right now.”

We continued driving until we got to Crusty Clem’s. What a trip this had been. Our first night in our new home and we almost died. At least we would be able to go back to Detroit. I marched over to Clem’s and ordered myself a fresh roasted victory squirrel.

 

 

 

 

Character

The scene I have chosen is from the movie Land of The Lost. In this scene you will be introduced to Doctor Rick Marshall. Marshall is a proud paleontologist who believes he has found the way to avert the energy crisis facing the modern world. His solution is quite colorful and many don't even think he is sane. This gives us an introduction to his character.

This is a great example of characterization because it exposes the audience to the thoughts of Rick. He is a confident man. Confident in his work really. His optimism on the subject is very much lighthearted. He seems pretty innocent because he doesn't recognize that others think he's nuts. This gives insight on his personality. Towards the end when he exits the room in rage, we learn that he is very proud of his work and doesn't respond well to criticism. Two minutes definitely told us very much about Dr. Marshall. We learned he is intelligent, lighthearted, optimistic, insecure, and a bit angry because he attacked Matt Lauer.

Specificity

This is the scene from Anchorman 2 in which Champ describes how he makes his money in the fast foo business.

I enjoy this specific scene because it's outrageously funny. It takes something gross and horrible and makes it something funny and lighthearted. The fact that Champ is serving bats at his restaurant instead of chicken is appalling. Ron adds to the humor of the scene by stating directly that it was the most horrible thing he has ever heard of. It's a terrific blend of gross and funny.

The Road Less Traveled

The Road Less Traveled

I was bored. Like, watching paint dry for fun bored. My friend Nate and I couldn’t think of anything to do. We had already done all the things we wanted to do during summer, so what else was there to do? I looked at my bro, and he said, “I got a case of the munchies.” The only food available in his house was soup and various spice packets in the pantry. We would have to leave home in order to get some good grub. A steamy McChicken and a pop would go down smooth. He lived about a five minutes away from McDonalds. That was if you drove there. We made up our minds. But walking there would take too long. Neither of us could drive. All of his bikes were broken or deflated. Hmm… Scooters! It would take us awhile to get there but it sure beat walking. I’d later regret that choice.

            After a fulfilling meal at Ronald’s we mounted up for the journey home. I tossed the last greasy wrapper in the trash and wheeled out of the lot. After a mild scoot down the path home, we arrived at a fork in the road. The quick way home was a monster hill past Manor House and Cottel Park. This was proverbial nightmare for a scootsman like myself. I stared down the valley of despair, thinking nah. I will just take the easy way home. My bro, undeterred by the hill, said “I’m going down.” He was an experienced veteran at scooting. I was a rookie. I was thinking of the possible ways I could die on that hill. Fall and die, crash and die, get hit by a car and die…. Why was I considering this?! I spotted a raccoon on the side of the road that had lost his life making the valiant effort to cross the road. I didn’t want to end up like that! I was thin enough as it was! Just as I was about to back out, I saw Nate at the base of the hill screaming for me to come down. I had to. I put my foot on the metal and slid down the mountain.

            It felt like I was floating. Like an out-of-body experience where I was watching myself scoot to my death. I was actually doing okay. I was gonna make it. This was a story I would tell to my grandkids and then have them put me in a nursing home because they would think I am crazy. I picked up speed, the wind in my face and sun to my back. I was gliding! I was wobbling! I was falling! They never fixed the pothole. That was the beginning of the end for me. I was a ball of steel and man, tumbling down a concrete hill like a snowball. I hit hard and stuck to the ground. My beautiful face, thank goodness, was unharmed. My scooter was a little bent. My pride…. punctured. Punctured like my leg! I looked down at my leg in a daze. I saw bone. I knew I was in for it when I saw bone. No blood yet, no pain yet, but plenty of pink flesh and panic. It was nasty. I looked up to see my bro at my side. His face was shocked. I looked down at the road and a foot from my hand was the dead raccoon. I didn’t even care. “Well buddy, you and I gave it our best shot,” I said to the pancaked raccoon.

The walk home was awful. I had a migraine and a bad one at that. My leg had started to bleed. It was a waterfall of blood. I will not share all the gruesome details of the wound with you. I will assume you don’t want to hear about how deep it was or how long. Or what the inside of my leg looked like or that my bone was chipped. (Whoops! Sorry, for telling you that.) Anyway, I couldn’t walk any further. We made it to the entrance of the neighborhood and he phoned his mom to come pick us up. After some application of home medicine and a painful dousing of my wound in hydrogen peroxide, we sought professional help. Long story short I spent most of my night in the emergency room get x-rays and stitches. I got my cherry lollipop and bailed. I fell asleep when I got home. I guess the best lesson to take away from this is either you’d better be as good as your friend at scootering, or the road less traveled can sometimes be the right choice. It might take five minutes longer but at least it’s not littered with raccoon carcasses and it won’t cost you a chunk of your leg.  That is unless you’re up to the challenge and have good health insurance.
What I think I did well on this article was use creative detail. That being said I think I also left a lot to the imagination. While I added good detail, I also created chances for the reader to imagine pieces of the story for themselves.