“Lord of the Flies” William Golding, 1963
“From the Inside” Linkin Park, 2003
“8 Mile”, Eminem, 2002
“The Things They Carried”, Tim O'Brian, 1990
“Unwind”, Neal Shusterman, 2007
“Schindler’s List” Steven Spielberg, 1993
“Rudy” David Anspaugh, 1993
“The Freedom Writers’ Diary” Erin Gruwell, 1999
“Figure 09” Linkin Park, 2003
Stanford Prison Experiment, conducted by Dr. Zimbardo, 1971
“The Patriot” Roland Emmerich, 2000
“13 Days” Roger Donaldson, 2000
“The New World” Terrence Malick, Sarah Green, 2005
“Pearl Harbor” Michael Bay, 2001
“Glory” Freddie Fields, 1989
“Gettysburg” Ronald Maxwell, 1993
“In Cold Blood” Truman Capote, 1966
“The Scarlet Letter” Nathaniel Hawthorne, 1850
“Of Mice and Men” John Steinbeck, 1937
“Saving Private Ryan” Ian Bryce, 1998
Friday, May 13, 2011
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Daniel Sugar
5-13-11
WAVi
Excerpts from Literature, poems, songs, etc.
This toy of voting was almost as pleasing as the conch. Jack started to protest but the clamor changed from the general wish for a chief to an election by acclaim of Ralph himself. None of the boys could have found good reason for this; what intelligence had been shown was traceable to Piggy while the most obvious leader was Jack. But there was a stillness about Ralph as he sat that marked him out: there was his size, and attractive appearance; and most obscurely, yet most powerfully, there was the conch. The being that had blown that, had sat waiting for them on the platform with the delicate thing balanced on his knees, was set apart.- “Lord of the Flies”, William Golding, 1954, England.
Sometimes I just feel like, quittin I still might
Why do I put up this fight, why do I still write
Sometimes it's hard enough just dealin with real life
Sometimes I wanna jump on stage and just kill mics
And show these people what my level of skill's like
But I'm still white, sometimes I just hate life
Somethin ain't right, hit the brake lights
Case of the stage fright, drawin a blank like
Da-duh-duh-da-da, it ain't my fault
Great then I falls, my insides crawl
and I clam up (wham) I just slam shut
I just can't do it, my whole manhood's
just been stripped, I have just been vicked
So I must then get off the bus then split
Man fuck this shit yo, I'm goin the fuck home
World on my shoulders as I run back to this 8 Mile Road
-Eminem, “8 Mile”, 2002
Tension is building inside, steadily
(Everyone feels so far away from me)
Heavy thoughts forcing their way out of me
(Trying not to break but I’m so tired of this deceit)
(Every time I try to make myself get back up on my feet)
(All I ever think about is this)
(All the tiring time between)
(And how trying to put my trust in you just takes so much out of me)
Linkin Park, “From the Inside”, 2003
"A true war story is never moral. It does not instruct, nor encourage virtue, nor suggest models of proper human behavior, nor restrain men from doing the things men have always done. If a story seems moral, do not believe it. If at the end of a war story you feel uplifted, or if you feel that some small bit of rectitude has been salvaged from the larger waste, then you have been made the victim of a very old and terrible lie. There is no rectitude whatsoever. There is no virtue. As a first rule of thumb, therefore, you can tell a true war story by its absolute and uncompromising allegiance to obscenity and evil. "
-Tim O’Brian, “The Things They Carried”, 1990
“Sure, I can talk like you, but I choose not to, It's like an art, you know? Picasso had to prove to the world he could paint the right way, before he goes putting both eyes on the side of a face... See if you paint wrong because that's the best you can do, you just a chump. But you do it because you want to? Then you're an artist...You can take that to the grave and dig it up when you need it."
— Neal Shusterman (Unwind) 2004
5-13-11
WAVi
Excerpts from Literature, poems, songs, etc.
This toy of voting was almost as pleasing as the conch. Jack started to protest but the clamor changed from the general wish for a chief to an election by acclaim of Ralph himself. None of the boys could have found good reason for this; what intelligence had been shown was traceable to Piggy while the most obvious leader was Jack. But there was a stillness about Ralph as he sat that marked him out: there was his size, and attractive appearance; and most obscurely, yet most powerfully, there was the conch. The being that had blown that, had sat waiting for them on the platform with the delicate thing balanced on his knees, was set apart.- “Lord of the Flies”, William Golding, 1954, England.
Sometimes I just feel like, quittin I still might
Why do I put up this fight, why do I still write
Sometimes it's hard enough just dealin with real life
Sometimes I wanna jump on stage and just kill mics
And show these people what my level of skill's like
But I'm still white, sometimes I just hate life
Somethin ain't right, hit the brake lights
Case of the stage fright, drawin a blank like
Da-duh-duh-da-da, it ain't my fault
Great then I falls, my insides crawl
and I clam up (wham) I just slam shut
I just can't do it, my whole manhood's
just been stripped, I have just been vicked
So I must then get off the bus then split
Man fuck this shit yo, I'm goin the fuck home
World on my shoulders as I run back to this 8 Mile Road
-Eminem, “8 Mile”, 2002
Tension is building inside, steadily
(Everyone feels so far away from me)
Heavy thoughts forcing their way out of me
(Trying not to break but I’m so tired of this deceit)
(Every time I try to make myself get back up on my feet)
(All I ever think about is this)
(All the tiring time between)
(And how trying to put my trust in you just takes so much out of me)
Linkin Park, “From the Inside”, 2003
"A true war story is never moral. It does not instruct, nor encourage virtue, nor suggest models of proper human behavior, nor restrain men from doing the things men have always done. If a story seems moral, do not believe it. If at the end of a war story you feel uplifted, or if you feel that some small bit of rectitude has been salvaged from the larger waste, then you have been made the victim of a very old and terrible lie. There is no rectitude whatsoever. There is no virtue. As a first rule of thumb, therefore, you can tell a true war story by its absolute and uncompromising allegiance to obscenity and evil. "
-Tim O’Brian, “The Things They Carried”, 1990
“Sure, I can talk like you, but I choose not to, It's like an art, you know? Picasso had to prove to the world he could paint the right way, before he goes putting both eyes on the side of a face... See if you paint wrong because that's the best you can do, you just a chump. But you do it because you want to? Then you're an artist...You can take that to the grave and dig it up when you need it."
— Neal Shusterman (Unwind) 2004
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Dialogue Poem for WAVI
Daniel Sugar
WAVI
Dialogue Poem
Painting: “The Second of May, 1808”, by Francisco De Goya (1814)
Solider: We will fight this war for all of Spain
Peasants: We do not deserve to die this painful death for the country
Soldier: but alas, you countrymen, you have disrupted the progress of our land.
Peasants: Why must you take down our horsemen, and kill our horses?
Solider: We are the conquerors of Spain and we shall…
Peasants: Do what?
Soldier: Take firm hold of our land and give it back to the people.
Peasants: But we support the King, no matter how we dissent him/
Soldier: So you support total tyranny and empire, while they live in luxury, we toil in the fields.
Peasants: Sir, they will kill us if we disobey.
Solider: It is that fear that will lead us to never attain our natural human rights. Now get out of our way, you peasant supporters of the Spanish Crown.
Peasants: Never!! Never!! Never!!
WAVI
Dialogue Poem
Painting: “The Second of May, 1808”, by Francisco De Goya (1814)
Solider: We will fight this war for all of Spain
Peasants: We do not deserve to die this painful death for the country
Soldier: but alas, you countrymen, you have disrupted the progress of our land.
Peasants: Why must you take down our horsemen, and kill our horses?
Solider: We are the conquerors of Spain and we shall…
Peasants: Do what?
Soldier: Take firm hold of our land and give it back to the people.
Peasants: But we support the King, no matter how we dissent him/
Soldier: So you support total tyranny and empire, while they live in luxury, we toil in the fields.
Peasants: Sir, they will kill us if we disobey.
Solider: It is that fear that will lead us to never attain our natural human rights. Now get out of our way, you peasant supporters of the Spanish Crown.
Peasants: Never!! Never!! Never!!
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
short story for sa#2
The Last Chance
Here Nick Marsala was, the 2012 New Balance Outdoor Championships. He was here, ready to run the one 800 meter race that he had spent basically his entire life training for, running 50+ miles per week, seven days per week, on top of a rigorous course load of three honors classes and two AP classes. Needless to say, his life was basically between school and running.
He had not had many chances before in order to get himself on the map. Thanks to all of last year’s stars, now in college, he could never truly shine then. Now it’s different. He’s a senior from Massachusetts with something to prove. A lot of pressure is off him; he knows he’s going to the University of Wisconsin next year no matter what, but winning this last-chance race makes the difference between a scholarship and walk-on.
He has already accomplished a lot in his four years. A state championship win and eventual qualifier for Footlocker Nationals in cross country, in addition to the talent displayed in his four winter seasons, convinced schools to give him a shot. He has already committed to Wisconsin-Madison, a major Big Ten university, to major in criminal justice. But his family needs money to send him there, and this scholarship may be that shot. He needs this race. He needs this national title, and a time under 1:50.00.
Four years ago, Nick never thought he would be here. A dedicated soccer player, he was convinced he’d grow up to play in college somewhere. He gave up all his other sports to focus solely on soccer, playing travel and for the club team, SS Select. (I’ve seen some good teams of theirs from refereeing). He also maintained a lifting program that had him in the gym 5 days a week and got up extra early to run 5 miles every day before school. This is a middle school student I’m talking about. Most kids this age are not doing this, but he was not most people. Nick was a worker who learned from early on in life that he needed to be competitive.
Freshman year, he won a varsity letter in soccer, starting and playing almost all of every game. But then that winter, he joined track out of persuasion by some friends. That is when the magic happened.
First meet, he ran a 1,000 meter race. After just two weeks preseason, he won this race in 2:42.11, out of nowhere. I guess all that running in middle school paid off. The coach stepped by him and told him he could go places in running. If only his wavering dedication to soccer would wane.
“But I’m still a soccer player, coach. Yeah, I’m pumped about this. I wasn’t expecting any kind of a good time. But wow, this is amazing!”
“Nick, this is your sport. You’re doing spring, too, right?”
“Nah, I got soccer. We don’t have much of an indoor schedule, so I’m doing winter track to stay in decent shape.”
“I heard you did crazy stuff in middle school, though.”
“But then I didn’t have much homework. Now I’m struggling to get it all done effectively.”
“Okay, understandable. Academics do come first.”
“Right, exactly”
He sounded so much like a senior then, even though this was just his freshman year. But later that winter, he made a fateful decision. He quit soccer in order to focus on running. I think it was because he broke the school record in the 1,000 meter distance at the Nike Indoor Northeast Regional Championships, running 2:29.40. Of course, Nick didn’t want to go, because it conflicted with early club soccer commitments. But he changed his mind and went when he realized what could be accomplished.
But that was three years ago, in late February, 2009. I was a sophomore, getting ready for my own track season, though nowhere near Nick’s level. Now, he had a race to win, and a time to attain.
Today was the prelims. He expected to win pretty easily, since his seed time was over a full second faster than those of his nearest competitors. The final call went out, and before he knew it, he was on the line.
“Gentlemen, listen for your instructions.” the official said.
“This is a prelim, and I know at this level you are all pretty competitive. Remember that any false start will result you in being disqualified without a chance to toe the line again. It will be two commands: on your mark, then the gun. Good luck to you all”
Nick took a couple deep breaths, the last thing he does before his races.
“On your mark! CRACK!!”
Nicks’ parents knew he expected a lot of himself. On the way down from Massachusetts, he told his parents, “Guys, I need this. I want this more than anything. I hope you guys love me even if I don’t do well”
Although Nick didn’t need their reassurance, it helped.
“Nick, we support you in anything you do. You’ve accomplished so much in school and in running. Several years ago we never saw you here. But here you are, the New Balance Outdoor Nationals”
Coming back to this race, Nick knew he had to get out fast. So as soon as the gun went off, he sprinted out in order to get the best position possible. Around the first bend, he was already several meters ahead of the competition, with his nearest rival in the other prelim.
200 meters gone, and it’s pretty fast, a 26.1. Now, a world class 800 meter runner can maintain that pace per 200 meters the whole way to run a 1:44, but Nick is not quite there yet. For him, that’s a planned faster start than his overall time goal of at least 1:51-low.
Around the bend, he’s feeling it. But he feels good, because normally he’s already pushing the limit with 500 meters to go. But today he feels relaxed at this point. 100 meters later, he hears a loud crack of a gun to signal the final lap, and looks up at the clock.
“Wow, 54.00 for the first 400 meters! And I’m WELL ahead of the competition.”
This is pace for a 1:48.00, which is actually faster than he wants today. Tomorrow he’s aiming for sub 1:50.
But then at the end of the next bend, he feels it a bit more.
“Okay, just relax and run tall. I can do this”
That’s his mantra when the race gets tough. Relaxing mid race actually helps him ignore the pain, despite that pain being pretty obvious.
Now his 600 meter split, the one that really says if he’s on pace or not. In world record attempts, the person always ran the first three 200’s under 25 seconds each only to slow down a bit and run a 26-low final 200 meters; there is just too much lactic acid for the knees to stay up.
Nick comes through in 1:21.23. He just has to hold on, as this is fast enough for sub 1:50. Rounding the final turn, he felt the acid kicking in. His whole body became pretty heavy, but he still had a long 100 meters remaining.
“Just ignore this pain and drive. It will be harder tomorrow when I’m really trying to go under.”
The finish comes before he knows it, and an official tells him he won with a 1:50.22.
Nick is happy, and starts jogging his cooldown lap on the infield with the next prelim starts. There are two rounds to this 800 meter competition: a prelim and a final. This heat features his only real rival, John Blanke. He has a story very similar to Nick’s, growing up with soccer and then becoming a runner. Except he still played varsity soccer the last three fall seasons and had a chance to play in an MLS developmental league; track was just something extra, and the Virginian junior was still this good.
John ran identical splits, and coming by at 150 meters in to the race, he and Nick make eye contact. There is this mutual friendship in track, so strong that seeming bitter rivals can actually be best friends. These two boys have known each other for a few years, and are Face Book friends. So Nick shouts, “Doing great, John. Keep it up!” while jogging inside the sprinting junior star. Tomorrow they will race each other for real, and it will be a duel from the gun to the tape.
Later, Nick discusses the race with his mother.
“What do you think about your time?”
“It’s a good sign. It didn’t really hurt until the last 100, but then I just focused on driving and getting my knees up. But I think I can do it tomorrow in the final.”
“Then let’s enjoy a nice dinner out somewhere.
“I agree, mom, let’s eat!”
The final is scheduled for 10:00 AM, and the weather is forecasted to be perfect. So Nick rests up and gets ready for tomorrow’s sprint. Another thing he does before going to bed is listen to Eminem’s Loose Yourself, which is a pump up song about seizing opportunities and not giving up. This is what Nick needs to think about for tomorrow.
The day comes, and he is up, ready to do what he had planned for all along. Right at 9:00 in the morning, he arrives to check in and get his number, which is different from that of yesterday. Nick’s time in prelim #1 was 1/100th of a second faster than John’s in the second prelim, so he gets bib number 1. John is there to greet him.
“So Nick, saw your race. I’m impressed. Maybe we get lunch and talk about this when it’s over, because it’s just a race”
“I know, John, but you know what’s at stake here. You’re a junior, so you have another year, but for me, this is the end of the line. Feed family or not. Success is my only option and failure’s not.”
“You can do it, Nick. You’ve trained for many years. Just gotta think and execute. I assume we’ll both be alone at the front, so what are you thinking for splits?”
“I’m not sure yet, but I want the second lap to be faster than the first. I usually slow down because I go out in 26-low, so I may open slower today and try to speed up later.”
“Uh, I think you should just do what you normally do, since it seems to work. When’s the last time you ever lost a non-national race?”
“I don’t remember”
“Exactly, because you get out really hard and put everyone out of the picture so early on.”
Enough time for chit-chat. Now is the time to race. They parted with, “good luck” and went their separate ways.
A few minutes later, they were on the line. While the official was giving the same instructions as yesterday, Nick could not stop thinking about all that hard work. It all came down to these two laps. 50 miles per week, 10 mile long runs, 7 mile tempo runs at just above 5 minute pace, grueling speed sessions consisting of 25-second 200’s and 52-second 400’s all came down to this. Hopefully, he’s got closing speed.
The gun is up, and goes off. They stagger for the first 100 meters then break for the inside. Nick and John are already out in front, 5 meters ahead. This lead will only grow larger as the race progresses. They both hit 200 meters in about the same time: 25.80, a bit faster than what is wanted. But that’s okay, because they both know that they can hold on.
The pain that Nick felt at the 300 meter mark yesterday is not there today, or at least, as much. “This is good”, he thinks. “I know I’m not goanna break John, because he’s really quick, but I know I can still win this race”
John is thinking, “Well, maybe I can kick it this middle 200 meters and win from there”
They both hit the bell in about 51.89, which in John’s mind is, “Way, way, too fast! We’re not aiming for a big huge record here; this is still a high school race!”
It may be, but this is a national championship final. A lot is at stake for both of them. But in the lead, Nick makes the conscious decision to slow down. They can close in this time, but really should not have opened with it.
600 meters into the race, it’s a kicking show. Their time to this point was 1:18.70, which neither used to think was possible for a straight up 600 meter race. Nick and John realize that they are on pace for a national high school record, which will go to the runner with the fastest kick.
Lactic acid building up in both boys, their sprint commences. Charging home at blistering speed, they only have 100 meters of high school track and field remaining. 50 meters to go, Nick pulls away from John, and soon claims the victory at 800 meters.
“I did it! Yay!”
“You also did something else, Nick.” John said gasping for air. “You broke the national high school record!”
“What was my time, then?!”
“Look at the clock”
1:45.22, indeed, a new high school record; this is the first high school 800 meter time under 1:46. Everyone congratulates Nick and the announcer is ecstatic. No one had expected this kind of time to happen, but it did. Nick Marsala will replace Michael Granville’s name in the record books, beating that old time from the spring of 1996.
It all paid off. The desire and plan and execution were all there, and everyone is happy. That night, when they get back inside, he listens to a message on the phone.
“Hello, this is Ed Nuttycombe, head coach at Wisconsin-Madison. I’d first like to congratulate you on your record. For that, I have been granted permission by the Office of Financial Aid and by the Department of Athletics to award you a full-ride scholarship to the University. No payments will be made, but all fees and tuition will be removed. Once again, congradulations on all of your achievements”
This is the end to all the great things that Nick did in high school. He did everything he could to get himself in a great position for the future, and is part of a mass of great American high school track and field stars.
Here Nick Marsala was, the 2012 New Balance Outdoor Championships. He was here, ready to run the one 800 meter race that he had spent basically his entire life training for, running 50+ miles per week, seven days per week, on top of a rigorous course load of three honors classes and two AP classes. Needless to say, his life was basically between school and running.
He had not had many chances before in order to get himself on the map. Thanks to all of last year’s stars, now in college, he could never truly shine then. Now it’s different. He’s a senior from Massachusetts with something to prove. A lot of pressure is off him; he knows he’s going to the University of Wisconsin next year no matter what, but winning this last-chance race makes the difference between a scholarship and walk-on.
He has already accomplished a lot in his four years. A state championship win and eventual qualifier for Footlocker Nationals in cross country, in addition to the talent displayed in his four winter seasons, convinced schools to give him a shot. He has already committed to Wisconsin-Madison, a major Big Ten university, to major in criminal justice. But his family needs money to send him there, and this scholarship may be that shot. He needs this race. He needs this national title, and a time under 1:50.00.
Four years ago, Nick never thought he would be here. A dedicated soccer player, he was convinced he’d grow up to play in college somewhere. He gave up all his other sports to focus solely on soccer, playing travel and for the club team, SS Select. (I’ve seen some good teams of theirs from refereeing). He also maintained a lifting program that had him in the gym 5 days a week and got up extra early to run 5 miles every day before school. This is a middle school student I’m talking about. Most kids this age are not doing this, but he was not most people. Nick was a worker who learned from early on in life that he needed to be competitive.
Freshman year, he won a varsity letter in soccer, starting and playing almost all of every game. But then that winter, he joined track out of persuasion by some friends. That is when the magic happened.
First meet, he ran a 1,000 meter race. After just two weeks preseason, he won this race in 2:42.11, out of nowhere. I guess all that running in middle school paid off. The coach stepped by him and told him he could go places in running. If only his wavering dedication to soccer would wane.
“But I’m still a soccer player, coach. Yeah, I’m pumped about this. I wasn’t expecting any kind of a good time. But wow, this is amazing!”
“Nick, this is your sport. You’re doing spring, too, right?”
“Nah, I got soccer. We don’t have much of an indoor schedule, so I’m doing winter track to stay in decent shape.”
“I heard you did crazy stuff in middle school, though.”
“But then I didn’t have much homework. Now I’m struggling to get it all done effectively.”
“Okay, understandable. Academics do come first.”
“Right, exactly”
He sounded so much like a senior then, even though this was just his freshman year. But later that winter, he made a fateful decision. He quit soccer in order to focus on running. I think it was because he broke the school record in the 1,000 meter distance at the Nike Indoor Northeast Regional Championships, running 2:29.40. Of course, Nick didn’t want to go, because it conflicted with early club soccer commitments. But he changed his mind and went when he realized what could be accomplished.
But that was three years ago, in late February, 2009. I was a sophomore, getting ready for my own track season, though nowhere near Nick’s level. Now, he had a race to win, and a time to attain.
Today was the prelims. He expected to win pretty easily, since his seed time was over a full second faster than those of his nearest competitors. The final call went out, and before he knew it, he was on the line.
“Gentlemen, listen for your instructions.” the official said.
“This is a prelim, and I know at this level you are all pretty competitive. Remember that any false start will result you in being disqualified without a chance to toe the line again. It will be two commands: on your mark, then the gun. Good luck to you all”
Nick took a couple deep breaths, the last thing he does before his races.
“On your mark! CRACK!!”
Nicks’ parents knew he expected a lot of himself. On the way down from Massachusetts, he told his parents, “Guys, I need this. I want this more than anything. I hope you guys love me even if I don’t do well”
Although Nick didn’t need their reassurance, it helped.
“Nick, we support you in anything you do. You’ve accomplished so much in school and in running. Several years ago we never saw you here. But here you are, the New Balance Outdoor Nationals”
Coming back to this race, Nick knew he had to get out fast. So as soon as the gun went off, he sprinted out in order to get the best position possible. Around the first bend, he was already several meters ahead of the competition, with his nearest rival in the other prelim.
200 meters gone, and it’s pretty fast, a 26.1. Now, a world class 800 meter runner can maintain that pace per 200 meters the whole way to run a 1:44, but Nick is not quite there yet. For him, that’s a planned faster start than his overall time goal of at least 1:51-low.
Around the bend, he’s feeling it. But he feels good, because normally he’s already pushing the limit with 500 meters to go. But today he feels relaxed at this point. 100 meters later, he hears a loud crack of a gun to signal the final lap, and looks up at the clock.
“Wow, 54.00 for the first 400 meters! And I’m WELL ahead of the competition.”
This is pace for a 1:48.00, which is actually faster than he wants today. Tomorrow he’s aiming for sub 1:50.
But then at the end of the next bend, he feels it a bit more.
“Okay, just relax and run tall. I can do this”
That’s his mantra when the race gets tough. Relaxing mid race actually helps him ignore the pain, despite that pain being pretty obvious.
Now his 600 meter split, the one that really says if he’s on pace or not. In world record attempts, the person always ran the first three 200’s under 25 seconds each only to slow down a bit and run a 26-low final 200 meters; there is just too much lactic acid for the knees to stay up.
Nick comes through in 1:21.23. He just has to hold on, as this is fast enough for sub 1:50. Rounding the final turn, he felt the acid kicking in. His whole body became pretty heavy, but he still had a long 100 meters remaining.
“Just ignore this pain and drive. It will be harder tomorrow when I’m really trying to go under.”
The finish comes before he knows it, and an official tells him he won with a 1:50.22.
Nick is happy, and starts jogging his cooldown lap on the infield with the next prelim starts. There are two rounds to this 800 meter competition: a prelim and a final. This heat features his only real rival, John Blanke. He has a story very similar to Nick’s, growing up with soccer and then becoming a runner. Except he still played varsity soccer the last three fall seasons and had a chance to play in an MLS developmental league; track was just something extra, and the Virginian junior was still this good.
John ran identical splits, and coming by at 150 meters in to the race, he and Nick make eye contact. There is this mutual friendship in track, so strong that seeming bitter rivals can actually be best friends. These two boys have known each other for a few years, and are Face Book friends. So Nick shouts, “Doing great, John. Keep it up!” while jogging inside the sprinting junior star. Tomorrow they will race each other for real, and it will be a duel from the gun to the tape.
Later, Nick discusses the race with his mother.
“What do you think about your time?”
“It’s a good sign. It didn’t really hurt until the last 100, but then I just focused on driving and getting my knees up. But I think I can do it tomorrow in the final.”
“Then let’s enjoy a nice dinner out somewhere.
“I agree, mom, let’s eat!”
The final is scheduled for 10:00 AM, and the weather is forecasted to be perfect. So Nick rests up and gets ready for tomorrow’s sprint. Another thing he does before going to bed is listen to Eminem’s Loose Yourself, which is a pump up song about seizing opportunities and not giving up. This is what Nick needs to think about for tomorrow.
The day comes, and he is up, ready to do what he had planned for all along. Right at 9:00 in the morning, he arrives to check in and get his number, which is different from that of yesterday. Nick’s time in prelim #1 was 1/100th of a second faster than John’s in the second prelim, so he gets bib number 1. John is there to greet him.
“So Nick, saw your race. I’m impressed. Maybe we get lunch and talk about this when it’s over, because it’s just a race”
“I know, John, but you know what’s at stake here. You’re a junior, so you have another year, but for me, this is the end of the line. Feed family or not. Success is my only option and failure’s not.”
“You can do it, Nick. You’ve trained for many years. Just gotta think and execute. I assume we’ll both be alone at the front, so what are you thinking for splits?”
“I’m not sure yet, but I want the second lap to be faster than the first. I usually slow down because I go out in 26-low, so I may open slower today and try to speed up later.”
“Uh, I think you should just do what you normally do, since it seems to work. When’s the last time you ever lost a non-national race?”
“I don’t remember”
“Exactly, because you get out really hard and put everyone out of the picture so early on.”
Enough time for chit-chat. Now is the time to race. They parted with, “good luck” and went their separate ways.
A few minutes later, they were on the line. While the official was giving the same instructions as yesterday, Nick could not stop thinking about all that hard work. It all came down to these two laps. 50 miles per week, 10 mile long runs, 7 mile tempo runs at just above 5 minute pace, grueling speed sessions consisting of 25-second 200’s and 52-second 400’s all came down to this. Hopefully, he’s got closing speed.
The gun is up, and goes off. They stagger for the first 100 meters then break for the inside. Nick and John are already out in front, 5 meters ahead. This lead will only grow larger as the race progresses. They both hit 200 meters in about the same time: 25.80, a bit faster than what is wanted. But that’s okay, because they both know that they can hold on.
The pain that Nick felt at the 300 meter mark yesterday is not there today, or at least, as much. “This is good”, he thinks. “I know I’m not goanna break John, because he’s really quick, but I know I can still win this race”
John is thinking, “Well, maybe I can kick it this middle 200 meters and win from there”
They both hit the bell in about 51.89, which in John’s mind is, “Way, way, too fast! We’re not aiming for a big huge record here; this is still a high school race!”
It may be, but this is a national championship final. A lot is at stake for both of them. But in the lead, Nick makes the conscious decision to slow down. They can close in this time, but really should not have opened with it.
600 meters into the race, it’s a kicking show. Their time to this point was 1:18.70, which neither used to think was possible for a straight up 600 meter race. Nick and John realize that they are on pace for a national high school record, which will go to the runner with the fastest kick.
Lactic acid building up in both boys, their sprint commences. Charging home at blistering speed, they only have 100 meters of high school track and field remaining. 50 meters to go, Nick pulls away from John, and soon claims the victory at 800 meters.
“I did it! Yay!”
“You also did something else, Nick.” John said gasping for air. “You broke the national high school record!”
“What was my time, then?!”
“Look at the clock”
1:45.22, indeed, a new high school record; this is the first high school 800 meter time under 1:46. Everyone congratulates Nick and the announcer is ecstatic. No one had expected this kind of time to happen, but it did. Nick Marsala will replace Michael Granville’s name in the record books, beating that old time from the spring of 1996.
It all paid off. The desire and plan and execution were all there, and everyone is happy. That night, when they get back inside, he listens to a message on the phone.
“Hello, this is Ed Nuttycombe, head coach at Wisconsin-Madison. I’d first like to congratulate you on your record. For that, I have been granted permission by the Office of Financial Aid and by the Department of Athletics to award you a full-ride scholarship to the University. No payments will be made, but all fees and tuition will be removed. Once again, congradulations on all of your achievements”
This is the end to all the great things that Nick did in high school. He did everything he could to get himself in a great position for the future, and is part of a mass of great American high school track and field stars.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Lyrics for song-based short story
"Lose Yourself" Eminem, 8 Mile (2002)
Look, if you had one shot, or one opportunity
To seize everything you ever wanted-One moment
Would you capture it or just let it slip?
His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy
There's vomit on his sweater already, mom's spaghetti
He's nervous, but on the surface he looks calm and ready to drop bombs,
but he keeps on forgettin what he wrote down,
the whole crowd goes so loud
He opens his mouth, but the words won't come out
He's choking now, everybody's joking now
The clock's run out, time's up over!
Snap back to reality, Oh there goes gravity
Oh, there goes Rabbit, he choked
He's so mad, but he won't give up that
Easy, no
He won't have it , he knows his whole back's to these ropes
It don't matter, he's dope
He knows that, but he's broke
He's so stacked that he knows
When he goes back to his mobile home, that's when it's
Back to the lab again yo
This this whole rhapsody
He better go capture this moment and hope it don't pass him
[Hook:]
You better lose yourself in the music, the moment
You own it, you better never let it go
You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow
This opportunity comes once in a lifetime yo
The soul's escaping, through this hole that it's gaping
This world is mine for the taking
Make me king, as we move toward a, new world order
A normal life is boring, but superstardom's close to post mortem
It only grows harder, only grows hotter
He blows us all over these people is all on him
Coast to coast shows, he's know as the globetrotter
Lonely roads, God only knows
He's grown farther from home, he's no father
He goes home and barely knows his own daughter
But hold your nose 'cause here goes the cold water
His people don't want him no more, he's cold product
They moved on to the next schmoe who flows
He nose dove and sold nada
So the soap opera is told and unfolds
I suppose it's old partner but the beat goes on
Da da dum da dum da da
[Hook]
No more games, I'ma change what you call rage
Tear this roof off like 2 dogs caged
I was playing in the beginning, the mood all changed
I been chewed up and spit out and booed off stage
But I kept rhyming and stepwritin the next cypher
Best believe somebody's paying the pied piper
All the pain inside amplified by the fact
That I can't get by with my 9 to 5
And I can't provide the right type of life for my family
Cause man, these food stamps don't buy diapers
And it's no movie, there's no Mekhi Phifer, this is my life
And these times are so hard and it's getting even harder
Trying to feed and water my seed, plus
Teeter totter caught up between being a father and a prima donna
Baby mama drama's screaming on and
Too much for me to wanna
Stay in one spot, another day of monotony
Has gotten me to the point, I'm like a snail
I've got to formulate a plot or I end up in jail or shot
Success is my only option, failure's not
Mom, I love you, but this trailer's got to go
I cannot grow old in Salem's lot
So here I go is my shot.
Feet fail me not cause maybe the only opportunity that I got
[Hook]
You can do anything you set your mind to, man
Look, if you had one shot, or one opportunity
To seize everything you ever wanted-One moment
Would you capture it or just let it slip?
His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy
There's vomit on his sweater already, mom's spaghetti
He's nervous, but on the surface he looks calm and ready to drop bombs,
but he keeps on forgettin what he wrote down,
the whole crowd goes so loud
He opens his mouth, but the words won't come out
He's choking now, everybody's joking now
The clock's run out, time's up over!
Snap back to reality, Oh there goes gravity
Oh, there goes Rabbit, he choked
He's so mad, but he won't give up that
Easy, no
He won't have it , he knows his whole back's to these ropes
It don't matter, he's dope
He knows that, but he's broke
He's so stacked that he knows
When he goes back to his mobile home, that's when it's
Back to the lab again yo
This this whole rhapsody
He better go capture this moment and hope it don't pass him
[Hook:]
You better lose yourself in the music, the moment
You own it, you better never let it go
You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow
This opportunity comes once in a lifetime yo
The soul's escaping, through this hole that it's gaping
This world is mine for the taking
Make me king, as we move toward a, new world order
A normal life is boring, but superstardom's close to post mortem
It only grows harder, only grows hotter
He blows us all over these people is all on him
Coast to coast shows, he's know as the globetrotter
Lonely roads, God only knows
He's grown farther from home, he's no father
He goes home and barely knows his own daughter
But hold your nose 'cause here goes the cold water
His people don't want him no more, he's cold product
They moved on to the next schmoe who flows
He nose dove and sold nada
So the soap opera is told and unfolds
I suppose it's old partner but the beat goes on
Da da dum da dum da da
[Hook]
No more games, I'ma change what you call rage
Tear this roof off like 2 dogs caged
I was playing in the beginning, the mood all changed
I been chewed up and spit out and booed off stage
But I kept rhyming and stepwritin the next cypher
Best believe somebody's paying the pied piper
All the pain inside amplified by the fact
That I can't get by with my 9 to 5
And I can't provide the right type of life for my family
Cause man, these food stamps don't buy diapers
And it's no movie, there's no Mekhi Phifer, this is my life
And these times are so hard and it's getting even harder
Trying to feed and water my seed, plus
Teeter totter caught up between being a father and a prima donna
Baby mama drama's screaming on and
Too much for me to wanna
Stay in one spot, another day of monotony
Has gotten me to the point, I'm like a snail
I've got to formulate a plot or I end up in jail or shot
Success is my only option, failure's not
Mom, I love you, but this trailer's got to go
I cannot grow old in Salem's lot
So here I go is my shot.
Feet fail me not cause maybe the only opportunity that I got
[Hook]
You can do anything you set your mind to, man
Thursday, April 7, 2011
short story prompt
A tragic setback a loss
A young male child is on the ranch and a bovine steps on his cup. It becomes submerged in the wet ground but the kid consumes the liquid from the cup no matter what. But a negative consequence of this action is a severe infection of the kidneys that requires the child to have a dialisys three days per week.
A young male child is on the ranch and a bovine steps on his cup. It becomes submerged in the wet ground but the kid consumes the liquid from the cup no matter what. But a negative consequence of this action is a severe infection of the kidneys that requires the child to have a dialisys three days per week.
Friday, April 1, 2011
SA#2: "No Love", by Eminem ft. 'Lil Wayne, Recovery (2010)
Daniel Sugar
4-1-2011
Poetry of Song-D
SA#2: “No Love”
The topics of bullying and hate in schools and in life are quite serious. Every day, many people, ranging from very young children to very old men and women, report being bullied or hated on in some form. Eminem is famous for writing raps dealing with a wide array of themes. The new song about bullying and hatred, coming from the 2010 album Recovery, features a speaker talking to a person who has victimized him. It also simultaneously discusses the failures of a relationship, not too different from “Figure 09”. In the song “No Love”, Eminem, featuring ‘Lil Wayne, use imagery and hyperbole to visually display the pain and hurt that bullying and hatred can cause people.
Eminem and ‘Lil Wayne use imagery in order to convey the important double meaning of this song. The first example of imagery is when ‘Lil Wayne says, “B**ches try to kick me while I'm down, I'll break your leg/money outweighing problems on the triple beam (Lines 13-15). This shows how victims of such hostility will fight back against their oppressors. The second example of imagery comes in the chorus when Eminem says, “It's a little too late to say that you're sorry now/You kicked me when I was down/But what you say just (don't hurt me, it don't hurt me, no more) (Lines 28-30). Here, Eminem is declaring that the time to apologize has passed and that there is no turning back.
In addition to the strong, riveting imagery seen in “No Love”, there is a strong example of hyperbole in this rap. One such example occurs towards the beginning of the song, when ‘Lil Wayne says, “Yeah, my life a b**ch, but you know nothing 'bout her/Been to hell and back, I can show you vouchers (Lines 3-4), exaggerating the fact that his life is rough in order to emphasize the point: bullying and hatred can create a mood of one’s life being very negative overall. Additionally, by using the word, “‘er”, ‘Lil Wayne personifies his life in order to add even further strength to it.
With the seriousness of bullying and hatred in society, it comes to no surprise that people write songs about it. Eminem is a white rapper in a primarily African-American industry who has dealt with discrimination and protests due to his lyrics, even though other people were saying the same things that he was saying. In the song “No Love”, he and fellow rapper ‘Lil Wayne write a relatable song to anyone who feels bullied, loveless, and hated.
4-1-2011
Poetry of Song-D
SA#2: “No Love”
The topics of bullying and hate in schools and in life are quite serious. Every day, many people, ranging from very young children to very old men and women, report being bullied or hated on in some form. Eminem is famous for writing raps dealing with a wide array of themes. The new song about bullying and hatred, coming from the 2010 album Recovery, features a speaker talking to a person who has victimized him. It also simultaneously discusses the failures of a relationship, not too different from “Figure 09”. In the song “No Love”, Eminem, featuring ‘Lil Wayne, use imagery and hyperbole to visually display the pain and hurt that bullying and hatred can cause people.
Eminem and ‘Lil Wayne use imagery in order to convey the important double meaning of this song. The first example of imagery is when ‘Lil Wayne says, “B**ches try to kick me while I'm down, I'll break your leg/money outweighing problems on the triple beam (Lines 13-15). This shows how victims of such hostility will fight back against their oppressors. The second example of imagery comes in the chorus when Eminem says, “It's a little too late to say that you're sorry now/You kicked me when I was down/But what you say just (don't hurt me, it don't hurt me, no more) (Lines 28-30). Here, Eminem is declaring that the time to apologize has passed and that there is no turning back.
In addition to the strong, riveting imagery seen in “No Love”, there is a strong example of hyperbole in this rap. One such example occurs towards the beginning of the song, when ‘Lil Wayne says, “Yeah, my life a b**ch, but you know nothing 'bout her/Been to hell and back, I can show you vouchers (Lines 3-4), exaggerating the fact that his life is rough in order to emphasize the point: bullying and hatred can create a mood of one’s life being very negative overall. Additionally, by using the word, “‘er”, ‘Lil Wayne personifies his life in order to add even further strength to it.
With the seriousness of bullying and hatred in society, it comes to no surprise that people write songs about it. Eminem is a white rapper in a primarily African-American industry who has dealt with discrimination and protests due to his lyrics, even though other people were saying the same things that he was saying. In the song “No Love”, he and fellow rapper ‘Lil Wayne write a relatable song to anyone who feels bullied, loveless, and hated.
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