Unit 4 groups

Blake -

I must say man you have some great posts in your blog. Everything is very detailed and provides wonderful imagery. I'm glad we had a chance to work together this semester, hopefully we can each learn something from each other.

Ok one of my favorite posts was the Dormitory section of the Living situation post. It was great because i knew exactly how you felt. I loved how you explained he was jerk that basically just ignored you completely. Just the idea of that is hysterical. I can imagine him just being in your way 24/7 on purpose just to piss you off then acting like nothing happened. That was great. I like how you acknowledge how much you write about your work at the hospital, its funny and yet there is nothing wrong with that because each post different. On that topic, another one of my favorites was A Case of the Mondays post. My favorite line was, "I dodge the whole situation by calling her ‘hey’." I can never remember names so it was something I relate to a whole lot. I think stories about the workplace are pretty interesting, especially when you give great insight at something like a hospital. Sometimes places that have that serious attitude can have the best comedy in between the lines. My third favorite was the French Braid story because it seemed pretty unique from the rest of your posts. There was a point of view change that first was a little bit confusing at first, but after i reread it, it became clear. The detail was great in the story and how built the tension in an ultimate frisbee game, which by the way are totally underrated.

Ok as far as things to work on, sometimes the sentances are not flowing quite right. It can be fixed once you reread it a couple times not a big deal. But I would like to make the language more lyrical in a sense. Like the word choice should flow from each sentance and be consistent. That's something I have been working on and its tough, but it really helps the reading of a story. The grammatical and spelling errors not a huge deal, I make them more than anyone. So besides that man just keep developing the writing, and I'm looking forward to reading some more of your work!

Diana

I would like to say I also volunteered at a hospital for over a year, so I know how you feel. I hated it, I don't like old people, especially old smelley complainy people haha, so it sucked and I commend you for going through it.

I really liked your poem Another day. It shows the hard work that most of us college students go through and the sometimes boring routine we all deal with it. It just really shows that never ending struggle with daily life and trying something new and in the end, the daily life usually always wins. Your post Peace was great. It was so open ended yet specific. It gave me scenes and feelings but didn't necessarily tell me how to feel, thats a great thing. You want to be able to express yourself through the writing and thats something that you defintiely have a knack for. The other post I really liked was "Eventually took its toll". The overall feeling and description of this story brought back a lot of old memories for me and it was great. It's pretty creative to show how many memories are held inside a couch, and its true. It can be a part of almost any scene in life.

In your future writing I would like for you to use more concrete details. I know your writing now is focused around feeling and emotion and thats great. However I would like some more concrete details to ground the reader in scene. Let us know where were are, then dive into whats going around your. Add that to your writing and the skys the limit. Looking forward to working with you Diana

My name is...

Name: Zahiri, Ali
Sex: Male
Date of Birth: 6-18-1988
Ethnicity: I always get to this part and never know what to put down. I was born in America and have fair skin. Does that make me white? Both my parents are from Iran. I don't see an option for Iranian, I see Caucasian, African American, Hispanic, and other. I guess I'm an other. Why am I an other? Why is this important? I guess all companies need to fill their quotas of ethnicities to prevent a lawsuit. The more I think about it I still don't know what I am and I hate to have to check one of these options. Saying other is such a cop out. Even though I'm Iranian, I display no cultural aspects of it. I own a Lou Bega CD, I'm as white as it gets. That's enough to convince me I guess.

Keys

I sat on the piano bench for the first time. My instructor kept her eyes still on my hands and directed my fingers as I completed scales for the first time. My hands were very small and it took a effort to push the keys down. As my hands slowly finished the scale my mind wandered as to why I was being put through this.
It was my first recital. Only my mother came. I was the last person to perform, meaning I was the most advanced of the students. My hands shook throughout both performances and I was using my heart beat as my metronome.
It was the talent show of my senior year in high school. I had been preparing a song for over four months. It was a jazz version of Flight of the Bumble Bee. My fingers pressed the keys with authority as my hands glided across piano. Each note had a feeling, each note showed an expression. The ending was filled with sound, it was powerful, it was glorious. The only thing louder were the roars of the standing crowd as I walked off stage. I then knew why I was put through this.

Two Essays

Death of a Moth

This was a great read, and I'm sure it's going to be a favorite for a lot of us. I think this piece really shows how important life is in all forms. It makes the reader want to appreciate his/her life, and all the life around them. After I finished reading this short piece, I found myself noticing things more outside and really enjoying the beauty of all life forms from plants to insects to animals. The harmony is truly amazing.

After Vitzel

I just liked the format of this story. The rhythm of the writing was interesting and something I would like to incorporate in my writing some how. Sometimes it rambles but the ability to make it full circle is great.

Insane in the Membrain...Insane in the Brain

Sometimes we do things for own sanity. Sometimes those things look insane to other people but are normal to yourself. I need a weight room for my sanity. I need to exercise to the point that I have to change plans to fit my workouts instead of the other way around. It sounds stupid to other people and when the ask why, I have no answer. There is no answer, no matter how I try to explain why I need to be there, they still wouldn't be able to understand. I myself cannot explain it, its just something I need to do. It's not a vanity thing, It more of a sanctuary thing. I can gather my thoughts, I can relieve stress, I can structure my life. We all have those places, mine just happens to be somewhere I can lift. At times it can be saddening when I'm in the gym instead of where my friends are, but if I don't go there is constant anxiety. In my case the gym can be damaging health rather than strengthening it.

Cellphones Ruin Life

I am sound asleep. I specifically remember my dream. I am talking to my then girlfriend and try to break the news the news that I wanted to break up with her. In the dream I was saying everything I rehearsed before. "Hey, I really wanted this to work, but there is nothing there for me." "I don't like to force things, and this feels forced". "You deserve a guy way taller than me." As i anxiously anticipate her reaction in the dream I am awaken by a my cell phone. It's a text message from Madeline "Hey you want to go running". The answer, "No." I turn off my cell phone and go back to sleep.


It is twelve in the afternoon. My bags are packed, my snacks are in a lunchbox and I just made a last run to bathroom to empty everything in my tank. I was ready for a road trip with three of my friends to California. Soon I would be soaking up the son and learning how to surf. I then feel my cellphone vibrate in my pant pocket. I figured it was one of my friends letting me know they are on their way to pick me up. It wasn't. My work called me in.


It was supposed to be the night of my first date with Jenny. She had be texted me all week and I knew she was really looking forward to it. I picked up my cellphone at 5:30 p.m. and let her know I was going to be picking her up around 8 p.m. when I get off work. On my way to work I made a stop at my friend house to drop off some stuff he left in my car. He is waiting outside for me as I pull up.
"I have good news and I have great news." He says
"What is it?"
"The good news is you don't have to go to work right now. The great news is I have four tickets to the Sun's game tonight".
Keep in mind I have never been to a Suns game and these tickets were $125.00 pop. I had no choice, you can't turn down free Suns tickets. I texted her at 5:45 p.m. fifteen minutes after I just made plans with her. To give me a little bit of credit I was honest with her and told I wanted to go the Suns game and I only pushed back the plans that night.
I picked her up at 10:30 p.m. and took her out.

Outside

Well i wish i didn't wait till it got dark to do this post...

The pool water is very still. The only ripples in the water are created from a dolphin chlorine dispenser that is wearing sunglasses and a smile so big it looks like he just got a happy ending at a massage parlor. There are some mosquitoes hovering over light I turned on, one came near me and I screamed and starting running while throwing my arms around to try and bat it away. I then immediately did push ups and spoke in a deeper tone to secure my masculinity. It has been like three minutes, I really wish i didn't do this at night. There is a full moon and the skies are clear. I see several planes going over head.

My attention span is very limited, so my mind was constantly wandering. Oh, look a new season of Real World/Road Rules challenge! Anyway so throughout this little experiment the mosquitoes just reminded me of how much I hate bugs. Then that reminded me of the giant red bump on my ass from a mosquito bight. Then that reminded me of the baboons with the red asses. Long story short I some how came back inside picturing a midget on a unicycle juggling dildos.

Basketball

Almost every weeknight my friends and I go the LA fitness in Scottsdale to play basketball. This night was no different. Tonight it was me, and two of my other friends who are look as athletic as John Goodman. One is about five foot six inches and weighs two hundred and fifty pounds. For man his size he moves pretty well, like a gazelle, well a gazelle with a broken leg who suffers from yellow fever. The other is six feet two inches and maybe weighs one hundred and fifty pounds after a big meal. He lacks hand eye coordination and he looks like he is running valet with the way he goes up and down the court. I am the most athletic of us three but the skill of basketball is beyond me. I have an easier time off the court scoring than I do on the court, and that doesn't say much about my personal life.

We call next game when we get there. The people there are skilled considering its a pick up basketball game. They hit the open jumpers, don't miss lay ups, and can handle the ball well. We were in trouble. We pick up two other players who probably couldn't even make the Special Olympic's basketball team and begin the game. The score was eleven to one after the first five minutes. Our only basket was the result of a prayer that was answered. I guess God really likes basketball, or feels really sorry for us.
The last time I was embarrassed this badly involved me, full frontal nudity, and a senior football player. Being on the freshman football team I was subject to much hazing. That day was a cold day, very cold, so everything was going against me. As soon as I walked outside with my food I saw a shadow behind me and then felt a very cool breeze. Unfortunately both my hands were occupied holding the tray of food. So not only did I loose four dollars of lunch because I dropped the tray, my ass was put on display for the entire school.

Although this game wasn't as embarrassing as getting depantsed it was a little more shameful. The only double double I was getting that night was at In and Out when we all left.

360

My friends were flying off the shelves before they ever had a chance to settle in. It seemed every time I introduced myself to someone they were taken seconds later. It was finally my turn when I saw an extremely good looking man come and take me off the shelf.

When we got to his house I noticed how carefully he took me out of the box and read the directions word for word. He set me down near his 54 inch big screen television who I quickly became good friends with, his name was Toshiba, I think he was Japanese.

The first thing I noticed when my owner grabbed my controller was how soft his hands were, he must moisturize daily. His choice of games seemed to be the usual for people his age: sports, fighting, and war games. Judging by the movies he watched, he had some infatuation with Judd Apatow. My owner uses me a lot, its almost obvious he has no life, or girlfriend, or friends in general, but god bless him he does take wonderful care of me. Every now and then I can hear him yell at his mom not to touch me, I think he has trust issues.

We've been together for two years strong now. I'm hoping soon we have the big talk and he commits by switching me to a High Definition television. I don't want to loose him though, so for now I won't push the issue.

My Children Explain the Big Issues and A Four Hundred Year Old Woman

This was the first essay that I thought was very interesting. Each of the three stories were very short yet I think they represented much more. I think the way Will Baker writes these very short stories shows how much he loves his children. Each story has it's own special meaning and it doesn't take much to get it on paper. I think that's the biggest thing i learned from this essay. That your writing doesn't need to be pages long to be effective. Efficiency of your time, your writing, and the reader's time is key.

A Four Hundred Year Old Woman was the second essay that I thought was really cool. I loved the beginning of it where it states her destiny was to become a writer in her horoscope and how she was able to achieve that. I also really liked the contrast the author is able to develop with Indian tradition, what the nuns taught her and American life. That would be the main concept I learned from this piece. Not only is contrast important to conflict, it also diversifies the piece and makes it much more interesting.

Stopped Short

It was a K-Mart in Southern Scottsdale. The aisles were flooded with last second shoppers trying to fill their carts with enough crap to keep their young ones content. My parents left me in the care of my brother, Reza who is eleven years elder. I was only two at the time. He would take my stroller and weave me through aisles like he was in Nascar. He saw my parents from across the store and made a full sprint while pushing my stroller to them. Once there, he stopped on a whim. There was one problem, I wasn't fascened in. As soon as he stopped I went flying foward and just landed on my face. He still tells me this story and has to take fifteen second breaks to catch his breath from his excessive laughing. I never laugh when I hear it.

Unfortanetly this wasn't the last incident involving my brother with a sibling. My sister is the middle child, seven years younger than my brother. When she was an infant my brother felt a little bit of jealously. Well at least enough jealously to pile several pillows on top of her and do body slams repeatedly. He still tells her this story and has to take fifteen second breaks to catch his breath from his excessive laughing. She never laughs when she hears it.

When my parents came to America from Iran, they weren't as aware of child saftey as they should've of been. My brother was an infant, when they decided to make a road trip to Las Vegas. When they first arrived their at midnight they decided to hit the nickle slots in a Casino outside the strip. One problem, Reza was a baby and there was no way they can be gambling and watching him, so they had to make a choice. At this point commen sense would come knocking at the door and one would stay with the child and one would go inside to gamble. Unfortantely they left commen sense in Iran, I think they traded it for a sandwhich of some sort. So because my infant brother was already asleep in the car, they just decided to wrap a blanket around him and leave him their so they could go spend countless hours at the slot machine. Seven hours later my parents come back, my brother is still asleep, and they move on to their next Casino. My dad still tells him this story and has to take fifteen second breaks to catch his breath from his excessive laughing. He never laughs when he hears it.

My family is fucked up.

Pineapple Express

I don't go to the theaters much but I did recently rent Pineapple Express. This movie inspired me in many ways. It is the exact style of writing I am i trying to put on paper. It has everything, a great plot, absolutely hilarious dialogue, and most importantly it has great situational comedy. That is something I'm trying to work on. I think I am able to create good interior thought in my writing and decent humor, however I believe the true art of comedic writing needs to have funny situations. Pineapple Express had all of those, from the awesome one liners to the absurdly hilarious car chase scenes. What is amazing is that it was not only funny, it was a great movie. Usually comedies aren't taken seriously as theatrical art, however this movie should be in that category. I know I don't have the ability right now to create something as awesome as this movie, but it will be something I will be working on constantly and try to somehow harness a little bit of what this movie achieves. The ability for Pineapple Express to be a great film before it is a great comedy is what I will really try and incorporate and translate in my writing.

Sensitivity

I just finished a set of shrugs at the Gold's gym in Scottsdale. It was mid afternoon and the gym was fairly empty except for the few regulars that I see on a daily basis. From the corner of my eye I see Larry walk up to me. Larry was five foot eight inches, had tattoo sleeves on both his arms and was a fairly lean guy, I think he weighed around one hundred and forty five pounds. I have known Larry since I joined the gym about three years ago. As he is walking up to me, he takes his headphones out so I knew he was about to say something.
"Hey Ali, do your nipples ever get really sensitive?"
"What?"
"Do they ever like hurt when you work out? Mine are killing me."
"Maybe it's menopause. You experiencing any hot flashes?"
"No man, this is the first time I've had this."
Now I have known Larry long enough where he would be able to ask me this type of question, however I never would've of expected it. He continued his workout and finished his set.
The gym is a very awkward place for guys. Most guys feel so secure in there that they are not afraid to reveal any kind of information regardless of how well they know you. There were countless times I would have to sit and listen to guys brag about all their sex stories literally ten minutes after I met them. One instance involved an underage girl. Yea some of things guys say to each other are pretty disgusting. I can almost guarantee if a girlfriend was to hear some of things coming out of their boyfriends mouth in the gym, they would be in for a long talk.

Untold Stories

After finishing my workout at the Gold’s Gym in Scottsdale I drove home, still experiencing the endorphins spreading through my body. It was one of the three hundred days of sunshine Arizona encounters a year. As I neared my home I noticed several cop cars driving in the other directions, it was a little bit out of the ordinary, however not enough to raise any suspicion. When I turned at my light I noticed our local NBC, CBS, and ABC news station, as well as a helicopter leaving the area. At this point my only thoughts are confusion and curiosity. Once I pulled into my cul-de-sac I saw dozens of police cars, two ambulances, and a fire truck. This is a nice neighborhood, this isn’t supposed to be happening here, at least that was my first thought. Then I noticed crime scene tape surrounding my house. My garage door was open, there were two police officers inside. Still, my mind couldn’t comprehend what it was seeing; I was trying to make sense of something that made no sense. The police officer stopped me, and asked who I was, I told him I lived in that house. He nodded his head, and lifted the crime scene tape to let my car through. With the fear of hearing his answer, I asked, did something happen at my house. He said no. I could finally breathe. However I was still confused why there were cops in my garage, and crime scene tape on the outside of my house. Once I pulled closer to my garage I saw several strangers sitting in folding chairs. A detective approached me and said, “Hello, I think I spoke to your wife already inside…” to which I immediately interrupted, “That’s gross, that’s my mom”. He then explained there was a hostage situation with one of my neighbors, and they were using my house as an evacuation site for the rest. The neighbor apparently had an medical condition and threatened to throw his daughter off a balcony, and once the he was convinced to set her down, he was shot and air lifted to a hospital. Just the sight of dozens of cops and crime scene tape around my house without knowing the situation was enough to give me the biggest scare of my life. Just the idea of something happening to my family so unexpectedly gave helplessness a whole new level.

The only person more stubborn than me, is my brother. So when he is says he is ok, he convinces himself he is ok. Midway through med school my brother had began to experience some pain in his neck, and he immediately dismissed it. Ironically, he was becoming a doctor so he should have known better. However the difficulty and competitiveness of med school discouraged to miss his classes to address this issue until he had no choice. The pain in his neck had begun to grow in a lump, and then a bigger a lump, and then a bigger lump. While in an elevator at Midwestern Medical school my brother collapsed and was sent to a hospital. There the doctors said he had a growth in his thyroid and it needed to be removed immediately through surgery. It was a relatively safe surgery, however there was about a five percent chance my brother would loose his voice, resulting in the end of his dreams of becoming a surgeon. Thankfully the surgery was a success, and he was out of the hospital in a couple days and back inside his medical books. Although the doctor said it was just a growth, my brother still insisted to have a biopsy. About a week later my brother came up to me and told me they found cancer inside the growth and they would have to flush his body with radiation. He sounded so incredibly calm and worriless that his demeanor was enough to diminish my nerves. Three years later my brother is fine, with by far the cutest two year old son you will ever see and another on the way. He is currently surgery resident at Maryland University in Baltimore.

Growing up I had to deal with a lot of arguing between both my parents. In fact those are the only memories I have when I think of us as a family. I’d really don’t think it bothered me growing up because I was so used to it. There were times were 911 was called, but no one was arrested. However this is one specific moment growing up that will never leave my memories. I was eight years old and my mother was reading a book to me in my room. My parents were having another on going argument at the time. Mid way through the story my father walked in holding an eight inch butcher knife. My mom didn’t budge, either did I. I was only eight I had no idea what was going on, and really didn’t react at all. He grabbed my moms hand and then took the flat sides of knife and rubbed each side on the top her hand. I can’t remember what he said, but I know my mom didn’t say anything. He then left, and my mom finished the story. I don’t know what happened after, I don’t think anything did. My parents are still married today and the arguing is no where near what it used to be. It seems an argument breaks out biannually, one threatens to leave the country, then other says go ahead. Two days pass, cooler heads prevail and things are fine. I respect neither of my parents because I think they are both childish and frankly deserve each other. All I know is my marriage will be nothing like theirs.

The Real Happy Meal

Eleven years before I was born, my brother was. Reza was like a second father to me, in fact if my real dad was anymore of a douche bag I would've emancipated myself and made him my legal guardian. However my dad was able to cap off his douchness at the amount I was able to tolerate, so emancipation wasn't necessary. My brother has been the biggest influence in my life, from my studies, to my discipline. If I was to step ot of line, not only did he have an asswhooping ready for me, he also had an assignment. I might have been the only eight year old to almost read an entire encyclopedia set. His unique way of punishment taught me responisibility and shaped me into the person I am today. I can remember of one specific moment in my life where the true essence of my brother is present.
I sat in my chair anxiously looking at the school clock waiting for the minute hand to tick so I can be released from this child prison. I finally heard the bell and ran my six year old legs through the hallways weaving through people like a car through traffic. I desperately waited to see my mom so she can take me to the comforts of my of my Super Nintendo and Lazy Boy. To my surprise I saw my brother loitering near his car. As I approached him he told me the bad news, that I had to see the dentist. He smirked as he saw my smile gradually turn into a frown. Silence filled the car on the way to the dentist's office, I thought he was about to say something, but it turned out only to be a sneeze. As we drove I get more nervous and the tension is growing faster than bacteria on day old raw meat. Suddenly I saw him pull into a shopping center no where near the dentist’s office. My brother looks at me asks, “You hungry?”. The dark cloud over me was overpowered by the sunshine glimmering off the McDonald's arches.
From that moment on I knew every ass beating I took, every encyclopedia article I read, yes even the one on South African Crickets, was worth having a big brother. Sometimes I do need to remind him I'm an adult now, well at least legally, but in the end, I wouldn't change a thing about him.

Fate

For almost three years I was at the mercy of a five foot, one hundred and four pound woman. Her porcelain skin perfectly complemented her blonde hair and green eyes. She wore her sundresses almost as beautifully as she wore her smile. Her name was Polly, my name is Ali, her boyfriend's name was Mike.
Throughout my senior year in high school Polly and I had become better friends, and our friendship grew exponentially as college began. She moved to Texas and I decided attend Arizona State, however my feeling for her only grew stronger with each weekly phone call. Oh, and Mike, yea he also stayed in Arizona. They had been together for almost three years in what seemed to be a relationship that would never end.
In the first semester of my sophomore year at Arizona State I received a phone call from Polly, she was in tears, and I loved the sound of it. For the next two hours she explained how she broke up with Mike and how she finally realized how awful he was for her. My voice was sympathetic, my thoughts were "cha ching!"
That November she told me she was heading back in town for Thanksgiving break. I was in my car when I decided to give her a ring that weekend. I picked up my cell phone and held down the "4" key, she was speed dial four behind two of my best friends. After a few rings it went straight to her voice mail, I was not expecting this. The message I meant to say, that was in my brain as I heard her voice mail, that was about to come out of my mouth in a sarcastic manner was, "you not picking up your phone is putting a stranglehold on our friendship". Now I will repeat, this was what my brain and my mouth had agreed upon before that little beep started her voice mail. Keep in mind that I have yet to express to Polly my true feelings about her. What came out of my mouth instead I can not exactly explain. Beep..."Hey Polly, you not picking up your phone is putting a stranglehold on our marriage...". At this point I had one of those pull the phone away from your face and scream fuck as loud as possible moments. However this was not an option, I was a leaving a message and could not just start breathing heavy into the phone, so I had to think of something quick. I followed that brilliant comment, with an equally an brilliant one, "oh, where did that come from? Well, give me a call back when you get this." And she did give me a call back, immediately after I hung up the phone, so I knew she had not listened to the message yet. I started to coach myself a little before I picked up the phone, "Ok Ali, use your English major skills to tell her not to check her messages without actually telling her not to check her messages,." After we exchange hellos the first thing I say is, "hey, whatever you do, don't check that message I just left you, there's no reason to, your talking to me now, lets just cut out the middle man." She suspiciously said ok and we set up a later date to get dinner.
That dinner was the last time we spoke to each other for over a year. I recently saw her again where I planned to explain everything to her. However after seeing her I realized that my feelings for her were no longer there. We made simple chit chat for an hour, said our goodbyes, and will most likely never see or talk to each other ever again.