Category: BlockOne

In AP Language and Composition class, before spring vacation, we all watched the movie, A Walk in the Woods. We had read the book by Bill Bryson as part of our summer reading assignment. Frankly, I had no idea that there was a movie. If I knew beforehand, then I probably would have watched it earlier, after I had read the book.

 

In the time that we spent watching the movie, I thought that it was pretty good. Sometimes, when books are made into movies, the books are changed, causing the audience who read the book to not be pleased with the movie. However, I thought that this movie did a good job of keeping the story true to the book.

 

One of the most important parts of a movie is the cast. Good acting can make an average movie good, but it can also bring down a good movie if it is bad enough. For this movie, I thought they did a pretty good job with the casting of the characters that we saw. Bill Bryson’s actor looked a little different from how I pictured him when I read the book, but I thought the actor did a good job of portraying the character. With Katz, I pictured him to be a bit fatter, but I was still happy with the actor. He did a great job of playing Katz. The actress who played Mary Ellen was perfect. She looked exactly how I pictured her, and the actress did an excellent job of playing the character.
I wasn’t sure how the movie would work at first. How would they make a movie about walking entertaining? However, the people who made the movie did a great job, and I enjoyed what I saw.

“Tell me a story,” My mother prompts. She knows I have been in a funk, wants to know I am fine, wants to distract my mind. I cannot answer her.

“Tell me a story,” Mr. Arenstam instructs in reference to our blog posts. He wants us to write regularly, to exercise our minds, to feel comfortable enough to take the AP Exam in May. I cannot deliver.

I have no stories to tell.

I have nothing left to say. I will usually use what is on my mind, but there has been nothing but pain lately. Of course, I could use this, but it becomes a rather dull tale:

“Once upon a time there was a teen with depression and anxiety. She is one among millions. She wonders is she will ever stop failing, stop rocking her body in an attempt to self-soothe, stop sobbing into her hand at 1 am. She leaves her homework until the last minute, too wrought over perfection to complete the tasks. She types this in the dead of night, having accepted that she will go to school in 7 hours with only one assignment out of four completed. She is used to the pain, the waves of guilt and sheer disgust that follow. The absence of emotion that strikes occasionally is scary, as is the urge to leave this life. But she prides herself on her willpower, her independence. She occupies the dark abyss of her brain alone, and refuses to take the hands that reach towards her.”

I cannot tell a story because my story has already been told. The ending is unique to me, however, and unpredictable in all cases. The climax is incoming, and hope blossoms bright before it. Perhaps someday I shall have a story to tell. In present days, I wait for the pain to end.

My back is sore from laying on the hardwood of my hallway. I am on top of a leopard print rug, one that hasn’t been vacuumed for a while; it’s covered in cat hair and some dirt that has fallen off the boots on their way upstairs. My body hurts and the rug is dirty, but I can’t bring myself to get up.

There are ten studs holding in a panel in the ceiling that covers up what was once a hole. There are eight holding up the patch panel just to the right of this one, a much smaller, more square panel. I know this because I have counted these studs over and over again, going around and around, one, two, three, four, and so on, and studied the size and shape of each piece of panel, their rough edges and slight color difference from the rest of the ceiling, all from my vantage point on the floor.

I lay here because I don’t know what else to do. I feel so incredibly overwhelmed, but simultaneously I am empty, unable to comprehend any of the things I am feeling right now, unable to deal with any of them right now. My mind is swirling, but I push every thought to the back of my brain by staring at the off-white ceiling and counting the studs that hold the panels in. My shoulder blades jutt out from my back and dig into the pine beneath me, my eyes are hazy, my head hurts, and my skin is dry and tight from crying. I tap my fingers against the floor, one at a time, moving from thumb through to pinky, then repeating. I roll the rug up with my toes, pulling my knees into my chest and bringing bunches of the rug up with me, smoothing it back down when I straighten my legs. I continue to count the studs above me. One, two, three, four.

A Walk In The Woods film edition was released in 2015, 18 years after Bill Bryson originally published the book. Those who hadn’t read the story, which was based off of Bryson’s adventures hiking the Appalachian Trail with acquaintance Stephen Katz, may have picked up the movie for the number of famous actors who portrayed the characters, including Robert Redford and Nick Nolte. However, the movie seemed to, for the most part, accurately portray the narrative parts of the book, so readers and non-readers alike can enjoy the film.

     The movie, which was initially released in Belgium, has many similarities to the book it represents. For example, it accurately portrays many characters as described in the book, including Bryson, Katz, and Mary Ellen. Additionally, smaller details such as Katz’s struggle with alcohol were included, which resonated familiarly with readers of the book. Even with the similarities, however, the film did have differences from its text counterpart.

     Though much of Bryson’s book was facts and statistics about the United States’ woods and forests, the movie follows the storytelling parts of A Walk In The Woods instead, opting to leave this information out. Additionally, the movie hinted at a small flirtatious relationship between Bryson and a motel owner which I do not recall from the book. Though I may be incorrect, movie adaptations of other books in the past have not shied away from adapting romances that were not originally written about.

    Overall, A Walk In The Woods’ film adaptation seems to be fairly accurate and an enjoyable movie to watch. However, the book has additional insightful information about the topic of forests and the Appalachian Trail which makes for a beneficial and interesting read any day.  

Paul owns a coffee shop. He works hard, unloading heavy bags of dark coffee beans from the old blue truck that parks in the back lot. His hands smell of freshly ground coffee, pungent and deep, the type of smell you can feel in your chest if you inhale deep enough. He is alone, but doesn’t feel lonely, not really anyway. He has his days where he wish he had someone to come home to, that one special person that would greet him when he walked through the door. He has this wish, but it doesn’t make him sad, only hopeful for what may come.

He has his shop that he pours himself into, and his workers, all young conversationalists making lattes and reaching into the displays with long silver tongs to retrieve a pastry for a man on his way to work. Paul kneads dough for croissants in the back room, his dark wash jeans covered in flour, a dish rag hanging from his back pocket. His regular customers know his name; he is the face of this place. He has a comforting nature about him, and he is just the kind of man you would know owns a hole in the wall cafe just by looking at him.

Paul has a dog at home, one he walks to work every morning with a red leash, checking up on his pet to refill his water bowl and give him a piece of ham if Paul has any extra, bringing him inside to the warm kitchen when it gets cold. Paul pets his dog, scratching behind his ears and placing light kisses on his forehead. His dog has dark brown eyes, just like the coffee beans that sit in bags in the corner. Paul doesn’t have a special someone in his life, but that’s alright. He has his brown eyed dog, his young conversationalists, and his coffee shop, and Paul is happy. This is enough for him.

In my journey as an aspiring athlete and student I have come to terms that by writing things down I retain a much better understanding of what is being taught. Work hard in school, so taking notes in the classroom once I had graduated into middle school, was just a natural transition for me. However, I face a real struggle was putting my pen to paper when came to activities outside of school. It only through that hard work, diligence and focus that I could get into the habit of writing down key points and lessons I had learned.

Why do I emphasize this topic of writing things down though? The reasons are simply personal and scientific. As a visual learner when I write things down I tend to remember more of the material that was covered in the lesson. It also helps me on from a more emotional aspect. Of written down, I have now given myself permanence in the knowledge, even if I forgotten, I can always go back to what was written, no matter the time difference. When journaling for my riding or for my personal life, it is encouraging to the progress over time, something can be overlooked if you do not take the time to sit down, not only to write, but to look back at what you have composed. The act of writing has been scientifically proven to be an immense help to every person on the globe. When hand writing things down on paper you are forced to coordinate your verbal and fine movement systems. In conclusion, you might call me old fashioned, but I tank ill to pen and paper, continuing to expand my memory for times to come.

Throughout the years, college sports have grown more and more popular as social media puts more attention on the college athletes. This means that when there is a one of a kind athlete, like Zion Williamson, that the athlete will attract more attention to themselves and their school. If a school has a popular player on their team, or a very successful team, then they will be able to sell more jerseys and tickets to earn money for the school, while the athletes get paid nothing.

    

People are now wondering if college athletes should get paid for the publicity they bring to their respective schools. The athletes should not get paid a salary like a professional athlete, because they are simply college kids. However, the college athletes should receive a percentage of the money made off of their likeness. Now, since they are still college kids, and likely receiving a free education, they would not get 100% of the earnings from their likeness, however, 50% would be a more reasonable number.

    

There are many college athletes who participate in many sports, so, to keep things fair, every college sport should sell merchandise for every single player on the team, no matter how famous that player is. This way, every college athlete can make money off of their likeness, and not just the popular ones that plan on playing their sport professionally.

    

Because of the publicity that college athletes have due to the rise of social media, they not only gain more attention, but also more pressure. With everyone watching, the tiniest mistake can be exposed on a big stage, and can haunt the college athlete. The term used to describe these mistakes in the clutch is better known as choking.

   

Since these athletes are playing on a bigger stage, and are able to excel at their sports, they should hold some accountability for choking in the clutch. After all, college athletes that play in large division 1 schools are very different from the average high school athlete. An example of this would be with Chris Weber, who choked by calling a timeout when his team had no timeouts left, causing a technical foul, and costing Michigan the 1993 NCAA championship game against North Carolina.

    

However, not all college athletes are going to play professionally, so they should be held accountable, but not to the extent of a professional athlete.

He is underneath my skin, always there. I can’t get rid of him. I think I have forgotten but I haven’t. He is a stain inside of me, he is a dark closet that I can’t see inside.

I am weary everywhere I go, even though it’s been so long.

He is a spill of wine and I am the carpet. He is a drop of blood and I am a pressed white shirt. He is a dark berry and I am the tips of someone’s hungry fingers; Stained.

He is the dark when I am walking home alone. He is the man walking behind me that I am terrified will catch up to me.

What will happen if he does?

He is the hand I feel on my back. He is the grip I feel on my wrist that burns like rope. He is the breath I feel on my face, warm and wet. He is the mouth that wouldn’t let me speak.

He is the hard wood that digs into my body.

He is the smell of an unwashed boy.

Young, too young. He is three to five days of bleeding and I am clean sheets.

He is a boy and I am a girl.

Tragedy. What comes to your mind? To me it was the horrific experience I had to endure last Monday morning…. the tragedy of death. It was a thought that crossed my mind that by writing about my heartbreak, I could comes to terms with the reality of it all. Some of the best composers of the English language have written their best works out of pain, so here is my poor attempt to create something beautiful out of something so ugly.

Last Monday was by far the worst day of my life. Why you ask? I had to put my horse to rest. At not even 11, within four days of being found ill, after hours of care taking and tests, the best thing for him was to put him down after we found out he had fractured his vertebrae, a fatal injury for a horse. As I had to say goodbye to my best friend, I not only watched the blue liquid used to take him away from me, but I watched as all of my hopes, dreams and goals slipped away with him.

One of life’s greatest tragedies, death. Not only that but death that happen prematurely, a freak accident, causing a kind and talented soul never to fulfill their potential in life. I am flooded with kind words and love from people, but no matter what is said, I cannot stop the real spinning in my head of him laying there, a stranger to his normal self. The future looks black to me, not knowing what lies ahead is the scariest feeling ever. I know by many means this was definitely not the worst thing to happen in life, but it is my tragedy and that makes it feel like my life has stopped while everyone surrounding me continues on as normal. I feel alone, probably because grief is to be walked alone.

So many things that I have learned from this experience. Life is precious, it can be taken away from us in an instant so use the time you have wisely, because the clock is ticking for all of us. With that I will end, my heart shattered into a million pieces, left cold and alone on the floor, I sincerely hope no ever feels the heartbreak that consoles my right now.

John Irving is an American novelist, born on March 2, 1942 in Exeter, New Hampshire. As an author, Irving gained fame after the release of his fourth novel, The World According To Garp, in 1978. Since the release of his greatest hit, Irving has turned out 12 additional works, and continues to write to this day (even predicting the release of a new book for 2020.)

Irving, born John Wallace Blunt Jr, grew up in Exeter, New Hampshire with his mother and stepfather (whose last name he adopted at 6 years old.) As a child, he attended Phillips Exeter Academy and participated in the wrestling program as a student athlete and assistant coach. In college, Irving studied at UNH and later went on to receive a Master of Fine Arts from the University of Iowa, where he held a job as professor as he wrote his first three novels.

After The World According To Garp became a nationwide hit, Irving released several more best selling novels, including The Hotel New Hampshire, A Prayer For Owen Meany and The Cider House Rules. Irving has won an Oscar, the National Book Award, and two other literary awards for his writing and film adaptations of his novels. In total, Irving has released 19 literary works, most of them novels. A new novel, Darkness As A Bride, is set to be released in 2020.