Hey Frosh...Sup?

Dearest Future English 110 Student:
1) Welcome to college kid…I’ll keep it simple: Sunday at 12 pm through Friday at 3 pm…keep your pants on, your shot glasses dry, your ass in class, and your minds open. Do all that and I think you will make it out alive.
2) Don’t watch the series finale of Lost on a school night, scratch that, don’t even go back and re-watch, or watch for the first time, the Lost series. In the end, you will end up like me right now, so distraught and angry at the world, that your first instinct will either be to punch a baby in the face, cry uncontrollably, or blog away your emotions. I obviously chose the latter. I mean really, who ends a series like that?!?! People who feel “Schadenfreude” or “pleasure derived from the misfortunes of others,” that’s who. This leads me to my #3….which actually pertains to English 110.
3) You may think your English teachers and the writers of Lost have a lot in common. Wrong. English teachers are the last teachers who feel Shadenfruede when they are making you write 5-7 page essays, blog, and revise your papers. Unlike the writers of Lost, they don’t try to confuse the hell out of you, reveal hints and clues to answers along the way, and in the end, don’t actually answer anything. No, no. you’ve got them all wrong…and so did I. When I came into English 110, I was scared shitless of English teachers, English in general. Here was my theory: (and, no, it doesn’t involve purgatory, polar bears or the origin of the smoke monster) I never really got pissed at math or science teachers who took points off of my work. I mean, if the answer is 1 and I put 50.4532, I can’t complain. It’s not their opinion whether or not I should receive points or not; it was an unbiased class. On the other hand, I thought all my English teachers where out to get me. I would literally hand in an essay and get it back with so many red marks that I assumed that the teacher’s pen must have accidentally exploded on my paper. Let’s just say, my theory about English 110 was about as far off as my theory that the television show I had given 6 years of my life to was going to end up as one big dream. (Which, spoiler alert, it didn’t.) On the contrary in fact. Over this last quarter, I have learned that as long as you put the effort forth, go to class, and engage in the activities or lecture for a mere 4 hrs a week, then you will be just fine. And to top it off, if you have Lauren Obemark as a teacher, so get on your knees this instant and thank the dear Lord for this gift. Seriously, do it now. The only thing she asks of you is to put down the iPhone, Blackberry, or whatever else you kids use to “sext” each other with, and be a part of her class. Trust me…you won’t regret it. You will learn how to successfully talk/persuade others about topics that are of interest to you. Finally, you will be able to analyze any sort of text, from Peta commercials to the oval in the spring time and find meaning behind almost anything. You can engage in intelligent, researched conversations about topics that interest you and write your thoughts and feelings about relevant issues through blogging and commonplace. I know, what you have ALWAYS dreamed of, right? Well, from an engineering major who thought writing was the bane of her existence, take down the wall, open your mind, and embrace this class…you will have an excellent experience.

Good luck brotha.

From Scholarly to Satirical: A Transition to Commonplace

Commonplace, to me, is a website that gives students the chance to express their opinions about issues that the majority of students care about. I would make it longer and more “educated” than a blog and shorter and less formal than an academic paper. I think my paper will make a smooth and easy transition. Because I discussed an issue that is extremely relevant, timely, and I think, compelling to college aged students, especially women, I feel that I will stick very close to my current topic and add more visual guides for readers to “link” to. Along with referring to the Dove film “Evolution,” I think I will take away some of the academic research in my formal essay and replace it with more examples of distorted images in the media. I feel that this audience will find my paper more relevant if I reference a lot of ads that the viewers might not have thought of as unrealistic. Also, I might add a little bit about celebrity scandal when it comes to distortion or maybe a story from real life about a young girl who might have hurt herself from low self esteem due to these advertisements. Though this may sound harsh, it is more likely for people to want to read this essay if I use pathos to persuade my audience. To put the icing on this cake of persuasion, I will add a little more of my unique voice to the paper, sprinkling it with a smidge of sarcasm and satire. After all, the sprinkles are the best part ;)

Finishing a Paper

If i had to name the scariest part of the whole writing process, it's finishing. I'm fine with adding content to a paper. Give me a computer and a case of coke zero and I could blabble for days about a topic that I enjoy and am passionate about. But finishing, not so much. I remember back to one of my best works in high school. It was graded on two levels: 50% mechanics and 50% content. I received 50 points on content, yay me, but fell short with a whhhoooping 15 points for spelling and organization. I'm fine with grammar, but even with the God created tool called spell check, i am the WORST speller in the word. (don't believe me, well junior year I spelled the word "picnic", "pik nik." so shameful). So you can see where my fear of mechanics is seeded. But not to worry class, I'll manage.
As for pet peeves when it comes to grammatical errors, I have a serious issue with pronoun antecedent errors. ex: "Does everyone have THEIR papers with them" is wrong, it's, "does everyone have HIS OR HER papers." Oh, and avoid the word "things," be more specific!

Oval Beach

After not picking the Oval as my primary text for my RAP, I figured, if I can’t rhetorically analyze the oval formally, I’ll bitch about it informally.
Where do I begin? Hmmmmm. Well, I’m pretty sure you have all walked through the oval, at least once this quarter, or maybe you may be someone who avoids it in fear of being decapitated by a Frisbee. Don’t be ashamed, it’s a legitimate fear. I’ll give a brief summary. The said plot of land is oval shaped (go figure) with paved sidewalks haphazardly laid in all directions, almost with the intention of leading to every building on campus. Trees lightly speckle the lush green patches of grass, as the warm sun dances on each blade that surround the cool pools of black. Sounds peaceful, huh? Well…let’s add the main element of the oval. Everyone knows that this round expanse isn’t complete without the students. If you’d like to learn how many students actually attend this university, guess what? There’s a class for that! It meets between 12:18-4:30 every Friday on the oval. The GEC’s for the class include the ability to throw a Frisbee and Beaching 101. Clothes are optional and the class only meets under certain circumstances: it must be sunny and 70+ degrees. What do you learn about other than how many students you can pack onto one quadrant of grass? You can learn how to throw a baseball, eat a sandwich cross-legged on a blanket, time out a perfect tan with a case study on how NOT to apply sunscreen, and a special course for the ladies: how to “cover yourself” with 12 square inches of fabric. If you can’t tell, I won’t be majoring in “oval.” I admit, the oval is a fantastic place to meet up with friends, have lunch, or play some sort of laid back activity like corn hole or throwing around a football. However, a particular group of oval goers, with the wise words of scholar Peter Griffin, “really grind my gears.” It’s the young ladies and gentleman clad only in bathing suits, laying out. First of all, it’s a college, not a beach…there are teachers and faculty walking next to half naked students. It’s both an oxymoron and slightly inappropriate. These professionals don’t walk through your beaches, so maybe you should keep your clothes on while on their turf. But my peeve lies deeper than the scantily clad collegiates, it’s all the tanning. Yes, I know, I am among the vast MINORITY who has distain for the sun soaking youths, but whenever I see a girl throw on the SPF 5 tanning lotion and roll to her back like a freaking rotisserie chicken, I want to show her a picture of herself when she is 50 and she looks 80. And their desire to take a whirl around the color wheel of skin tons are simply because these girls “don’t want to look reflective” or “don’t want to look like vampires.” Well take advice from a girl who has been compared to a Cullen more than once in her life, after working a summer in a dermatologist’s office, I cannot stress enough the hardship that these bathing beauties are going to face in 20 years. If I had a dime for every time I had an older woman wish she could go back and smack her 20 year old, bikini donning self, I could blog for the rest of my life, on a yacht in the Caribbean. Yes, I sound bitter, yes, I may or may not sparkle in the sunlight, but no, when I’m 45, my face won’t match my leather handbag.

Road Rage

So I’m driving down the road, right? And you know, driving gets boring sometimes. So there are two ways I bide my time, especially on this particular Saturday drive to Toledo. I either A) stare down each and every driver I pass in hopes to make his or her trip more memorable, or B) I check out the dozens of billboards strategically littered along the highway. In this instant, I was checking out the scenery on the Anthony Wayne Trail, and my attention was grabbed and actually held, by one roadside advertisement in particular. Usually billboards get to the point and express their message quickly so the driver can multitask. (Death by “billboard reading” would not be the best marketing strategy.) Well in this case, I think the Ohio Department of Health was trying to kill me and kudos to you, ODH! I was so entranced by the billboard that I almost drove off the road. To the right of the highway, I saw the 20 foot image of a baby’s face, next to the words “BREAST MILK SATISFIES,” on a plain white background. In the corner of the youth’s rather satisfied looking face, on the edges of his (we will go with boy) mouth was milk residue dripping down his chin. I wish you could all have seen my face at that moment. It was a mix of confusion and disgust. But mostly disgust. I mean, come on, that’s just gross. I see what the Ohio Department of Health’s statewide initiative is trying to persuade. Breast milk IS one of the best choices for a baby. But I feel that they could think of a less “controversial” way of expressing it. Fact- It got my attention. Fact- the idea of breast feeding now makes me a little uneasy. A happy, smiling baby would have done the trick, but the half droll, half break milk covered chin of a small child with a look on his face like he is the most content child in the word makes me think inappropriate thoughts. Come on now, don’t lie. You all thought the same thing when you saw this picture too. Don’t make me spell it out. And don’t EVEN get me started about the words “BREAST MILK SATISFIES.” Not only does the image evoke more rhetoric than even Lauren can appreciate, the words just make bad, worse. The simple phrase is written in such an intense way, bold font with an exaggeration on the word “SATISFIES,” that if one were to desire that the billboard be read aloud, it would only be appropriate for a huge, burly man with a rather deep voice and intense demeanor read the phrase and immediately follow it with the word “BAM!” or a body slam. And as a woman, and I’m pretty sure most woman will agree, relating a peaceful and intimate moment like breastfeeding to an intense professional wrestling match just plain and simple, like the ad, isn’t right. True, I have never breast fed before, but if it is as intense as this ad makes it sound, then count me out.

To put the icing on the cake, the bottom right hand corner of the ad has a plea from the child, asking the on lookers to “Help Me Grow.” First of all, this phrase is so small that it is not visible from the view of a car moving 50 mph, but more importantly, if the Ohio Department of Health was trying to use pathos, grabbing our attention with emotion, then they probably shouldn’t have emotionally punched me in the face first. I now feel like I’m the protagonist in a Sour Patch Kid’s commercial. Sour then sweet. Sorry ODH, I see nothing sweet about this ad.

To Calculate or Create, Those are the Options

I am a perspective engineer who is absolutely in love with writing and the English language. And you all thought Tiger Woods had issues. Yet it’s true; give me the choice between a wild Friday night with physics or a quiet evening with a couple of drinks and a blog, and I’ll crack open that browser faster than the series [1/(n^r)] converges (trust me, that’s pretty fast). So why the sciences over the arts? Well, to be completely frank, I think the sciences are easier than the arts. Now before you think, “This girl has lost her freaking mind,” (which I undoubtedly know you have), let me explain. In a way, in the typical “sciences” classes, you are copping out. Your mind has decided, “Hey dude, I’m gonna listen and regurgitate, but I’m not going to think and create.” Essentially, English or visual arts majors are still learning a general form and practice, but in the end, they need to turn in an assignment that hasn’t been thought of yet. I’ll turn in my physics homework next week, containing prewritten questions that I answer, reproving and practicing Coulombs law. An English student who turns in an analysis of the oval as the next location for an MTV spring break show is turning in her original thoughts, is essentially creating a question and a response. And not just any response. No, this one doesn’t have an answer key; it is one that is absolutely her own. Now that takes balls. Additionally, my work is graded, while her work is scrutinized. If I get a C on that physics homework, it’s because the teacher knows it’s wrong. If she gets negative feedback from peers or teachers (besides marking off for grammatical errors) it’s because they all think she is wrong. It’s a world of opinion and as our best friend “commonplace” puts it, “we are living through America 's Golden Age of Judgment.” Putting oneself out there in such an exposed and vulnerable way would make even a playboy bunny feel uncomfortable. Maybe I’m being dramatic (quite possible) or maybe this disgust for judgment is seeded in a suppressed childhood trauma (I’ll get back to you on that one), but if I had the choice between “1+1=2” and “1+1=whatever the hell you want it to be,” hand me the calculator.