Close-up of my Mind

I FEEL GREAT.

Hey there,

I thought it'd be nice to share a story I wrote in 9th grade. It's a short story of course, but it just means alot personally and well I don't know, I'm still quite proud of it though :D Hope you enjoy it whether you're a swimmer or not! ^o^
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“Swimming, from the outside you won't get it, from the inside, you just can't explain it”
-Anonymous

What a warm-up! Grabbed by the ankles, slapped in the face, swum on top of, violated and scratched, I think this could be a new record! Still rubbing my cheek where I was hit, I made my way to the marshaling table where a huge crowd was overwhelming the card-handler. I climbed over a couple people using their heads as leverage. I then spotted my card.

While walking to the benches, I tripped on a pull buoy that was lying around. What a way to start a day... I sat down, it was still a long wait before my turn. I closed my eyes, I could feel my heart beat getting louder and harder, my stomach was turned upside down, my fingers trembled, my breathing was deep and frantic and my mind trying to figure out what in the world my coach lectured me. All I remembered was BLAH BLAH BLAH. Not good.

My turn to swim was coming soon, I walked to the next row where I uncomfortably sat down on the hard, cold, wet chair. AH! Who had the idea to force swimmers into 8 year old-size bathing suits?! It felt like my legs were sealed in vacuum-packed tubes. While attempting to let my legs breath in agony, the guy beside me asked:
So, how do you feel?

I feel great... I replied although my legs were still fidgeting and my voice got a tad high when I said that. It was what my coach always told me to say.

“I don't care if you can barely walk because of last night's dryland, or if your arms feel rock-solid. It might be 5:30 am and you still have to swim. Swimmers work harder than any other sport runs, longer than any who skate around on ice, better than anyone who flings a bat in the air. So, I expect you to be in that water practicing with a gigantic grin on your face, and when I ask you how do you feel? You say... I feel great!”

I always wondered if my coach was truly evil. She was the kind of person who you love to hate, the kind of person who is nice but scares the crap out of you.

This lady in a funny fluorescent construction worker vest signaled us to move behind the blocks. It was game time. I looked at my crumpled card, I forgot I was holding it. I find it weird how it always managed to get ripped, crumpled, and wet. I gave my half-torn card to the official, he didn't seem to happy about that fact...

I stared blankly at the lane. I had to concentrate. I had to get my spastic muscles to relax. I started moving my arms in a wind-mill motion. Suddenly, I hit a woman's hand that was carrying a pack of marshaling cards. Pieces of paper went flying everywhere and landed on the very wet pool deck. Not good. This wasn't my day.

TWEET! That was my queue to climb on the block. I slapped my thighs to make sure they were awake, a traditional ritual all swimmers do. I grabbed the edge of the block and curled my toes around it.

“At your marks, *electronic beep*” I dived in a good two seconds after everyone, I could just picture my coach glaring at me... just keep swimming. As I entered the water, I could feel the cold water on my face and the world just disappearing. It was like I was alone, just me in the water, I treasured the feeling of a dive. A loud smack followed my dive, my stomach was officially in a great deal of pain. I pushed the pain away, the water ripped off my goggles, but it didn't matter. Race the clock, surpass your limits, I was here to win. As I came close to the surface for my first stroke I thought of all the things I've trained so hard for.

Stroke, stroke, stroke, I was approaching the wall for my first flip turn. I took my last breath and did on last stroke. Upside down and around, I pushed of the wall. I did a couple dolphin kicks, my lungs pleading for a breath. I broke the surface. I kicked harder, I pulled faster. Every stroke was not taken for granted, every breath was like a present. I finally got to the wall, only two more lengths of torture I told myself. It felt like my lungs were going to burst. I forced that feeling aside. The chlorine was burning my eyes, the air became more and more hard to breath. I needed to breath, I needed to see, I needed the pain to go away.

I gave my all on the last length and touched the wall. It was over. Or was it? Catching my breath, I looked up to see the horror. Sure, I had come first...for one simple reason. I was swimming the wrong stroke. I had been so blinded by the burning chlorine in my eyes, I didn't notice everyone was swimming a different event let alone a whole different stroke!

How could I have made such a huge mistake? But what preoccupied me most was: What will my coach say? Speaking of coach, I looked over to where she was standing. She didn't look overjoyed. In fact, I could see her mouthing me her thoughts. If I was closer, she probably would have thrown something at me.

I struggled to climb out of the pool. I was dead; literally. What a great day! Waking up a 6am to get to the pool in time, getting absolutely battered and violated during warm-up, tripping on a pull buoy, wearing a skin-tight swim suit, getting muscle spasms before a race, losing my goggles, having a huge red mark on my stomach, and better yet, having my coach screaming at me in the early morning. But you know what? I feel great...

~pat

What does it mean to be a swimmer?

Hiya,

I had a different swimming blog before, but I think I should just write on this one, it is my part of my life anyways.. So I'll be importing the post I really like ^_^

Enjoy! :D

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Some people say swimming isn't a sport. Micheal Phelps proved that wrong. Some people now wonder what it means to be a swimmer... so what does it mean?

Being a swimmer means working hard to achieve what you want. Ignoring the people that say you'll never be what you aim to be and constantly pushing your limits. Working yourself to the bone so you can get that gratifying feeling at the end of each workout.

It's knowing that every stroke you take, takes you a step closer to what you truly want to become. Every flipturn can turn your world upside down. Every breath is a present you give yourself.

Being a swimmer means waking up early when everyone is sound asleep to dive in a pool to do what you do best. To swim in whichever conditions may present you in the best way you can.

It's trusting yourself and your coach to mold yourself into a better swimmer.

Being a swimmer is knowing that there is no such thing as limits. What you set your mind to do is what you can do. We've all learn from Phelps that impossible is nothing. Achieving your dream and goals can always and will be in arms reach if you set your mind that way. You can always go a little further.

It means to aim for excellence on good days, on bad days, on all your days. It's to focus on aiming for the best.

It's coming to the pool on a bad day and having your teammates cheer you up and make you forget. It's having you plow your anger out in the water and release that tension. Dump all your emotions in the water and leave practice fresh like a new slate.

Being a swimmer means loving your team. Loving the laughs, the moments, the relays, the events, the meets, the never-ending sets...together. Having them encouraging you at your worst and best events. Losing your voices together at competitions cheering for each other; and learning from your mistakes.

Being a swimmer is loving the sport.

~pat

Edgar Allan DOH!

Hiya,

Well we had to write a comparative analysis for english. I thought I'd post it.. why? I dont know :3 And btw, my vocabulary is no where near the one I used in this essay... online thesaurus FTW? XD

Anywho, I'm comparing Edgard Allan Poe: The Tell-Tale Heart to the Simpsons: The Tell-Tale Head..

Tell me what you think! :D Well if you actually survive reading the whole thing.

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Edgar Allen DOH!

Edgar Allan Poe's “The Tell-Tale Heart” has been the inspiration of many movies, radio plays, and other modern day pop culture such as The Simpsons' episode “The Tell-Tale Head”. Although The Simpsons' remake greatly differs from the original Gothic story, it still holds the same basis. This demonstrates that despite both versions have the same concept, the original “The Tell-Tale Heart” can be interpreted in many ways. By comparing the atmosphere set, the vocabulary used, and the two protagonists, it is easy to see why each version would be best suited for its time period.

Firstly, the level of intensity in both stories is very distinct. Edgar Allan Poe sets a more eerie atmosphere compared to The Simpsons' comical satire. “The Tell-Tale Heart” is very psychological and suspenseful thus putting the reader in the killer's unstable state of mind. Every thought, every movement, every emotion that the murderer feels is portrayed through the words written by this classic Gothic author. He writes: “I saw it with perfect distinctness-all a dull blue, with a hideous veil over it that chilled the very marrow in my bones...” By reading that segment, Edgar Allan Poe provides a sense of imagery that throws the reader right into the twisted mind of the protagonist. “The Tell-Tale Heart” has unequivocally more depth than the doltish show The Simpsons.

On the other hand, the mood in “The Tell-Tale Head” created by The Simpsons is much more relaxed and farcical. Instead of being a heart throbbing thriller, the popular cartoon has downgraded the literature classic into a plain and simple, everyday television show. During the twenty minutes of animation, most its time is taken up by the mindless actions of Homer and his son. The atmosphere in The Simpsons' re-make is crude and far from Edgar Allan Poe's elaborate setting. This television series has no merit as an adult or near-adult program due to the fact that its humor mostly revolves around bodily function and slapstick behavior. It treats major social issues like child abuse with equal contempt such as Homer's constant throttling towards Bart. However, The Simpsons' is still a satire and these actions are all candidly part of the nature of this series. Evidently, “The Tell-Tale Head” is destined to today's society where most of the audience only awaits the next tedious joke.

Secondly, the vocabulary used in each variation of the story also demonstrates how both contain elements adequate to their time period. Edgar Allan Poe narrates the thought process of a troubled person using a more complex and explicit style of writing. He depicts fully developed ideas and accords an importance to the small details such as the setting and mood. Furthermore, the Gothic author writes with only one purpose: To indulge an absolutely petrifying experience to his readers through his stories.

When placed in juxtaposition to The Simpsons' common usage of slang where the characters usually point out their first thought in any given situation, it is evident that primitive yellow cartoon would not be a good fit for the nineteenth century. If the show would have employed the same vocabulary as Edgar Allan Poe, it would most probably not have the same celebrity-status it holds presently. Seeing as today's television audience prefers the senseless humor The Simpsons provide over the Gothic literary classic.

Thirdly, when comparing the two main characters, the difference in personality is brought out. In “The Tell-Tale Heart”, the main narrator is a disturbed psychopath who stalks his victim and is unable to control his emotions. On the contrary, in The Simpsons' “The Tell-Tale Head”, Bart is an average youth who has only acted upon peer pressure. The popular television show has stripped away the deep psychological traits of the killer and replaced them with the more superficial emotions of a 10-year-old boy.

Moreover, Edgar Allan Poe's intention was to create a good piece of horror with the objective of terrorizing his readers while The Simpsons' goal is to simply provide a form of comic relief. This is why each story is better destined to its intended audience. Edgar Allan Poe's readers search for a moving literary experience compared to The Simpsons where their audience tends to prefer the genuine ludicrousness of the show.

In conclusion, when examining the original literary classic of Edgar Allan Poe to the famous sitcom's remake presented by The Simpsons, it is clear why each is better suited for their era and designated audience. In our current generation, people have lost the interest of a good piece of literature and have instead taken up the enjoyment of bad unrefined comedy. It is sad to see that our present day society's quality of entertainment is disintegrating. In the nineteenth century, there was no way that such a burlesque style of entertainment would become a hit. Edgar Allan Poe provided a lasting intellectual psychological thrill that would daunt the mind of his readers. Under modern times, The Simpsons' “The Tell-Tale Head” is perfectly satisfying to our twentieth century society who has forgotten the hair rising thrill of a cordial literary classic, but instead replaced it with a mere parodic lampoon.

-pat

WW1: Finished Project

Hey,

So as I said, I'd post my WW1 project :D I actually REALLY like how it turned out (and plus I'm done a week early, skills!) I'm actually so proud right now. I'm so cool right, being excited about a school project? O.o But I think it turned out really authentic? GAH, I'm always so excited for projects. I guess it's just my thing, I don't know.

But here it is, tell me how it is! :D

I really like the bow. I think it goes great with the tones.

The photos I took are simply printed out.

The aged letters! :D they smell really good, because I dipped the letters in vanilla tea :3

A close-up of the letters. The brown is a mix or tea and coffee! Cool eh?

We had to have the IDs of the people writing the letters. I like how these ones turned out :D I burned the edges.... it was pretty fun. Quite scary though. And I only managed to mess up once (whole paper burned up O_O)

Anyways, I'm quite happy at the moment. Although I have a comparative analysis for english. I have to compare Edgar Allen Poe's "The Tell-Tale Heart" vs the Simpson's "The Tell-Tale Head". Pretty cool English teacher right? Bad thing is I have one day to write it.. tomorrow =.= Ah well.

~pat

Quietly ahead

HAI.

Ha! I'm actually not going to make a photo post this time ^_^ Surprised non? I'm just going to type away my fascinating (not) life here. Anyways, life without swimming is really different. I won't say I have more energy... but I have more time! I'm ahead in almost every subject! How does that work? o-o Swimming is really a weird sport, and surprisingly gives you super homework speed powers. I really don't see why people complain about the amount of homework, there's no stress without swimming! It may be a pain but I'm not as pressured. I'm just really shocked :P But I guess it's a good thing ^_^

Anywhoo, you know how's there these people who just get along with everyone and everything? I find that really cool! Unfortunately, I'm part of the awkward group XD But that's okay, cause that's makes me different. And different is good! :D But seriously, they get along with everyone! It's so amazing :D

I ask myself what could they possibly be doing, but the answer is actually really simple. They're just really outgoing and not-shy.

And it all comes down to: Patty is very shy and quiet. ^_^ But that's okay, cause I don't mind being quiet :D I like to think that as much as everyone tries to act a certain way, they're true nature is bound to reveal itself at one point. There was a quote on HOUSE that i really liked:

"Who you are never changes but what you are never stops."

Or was it vice versa? I really can't remember... fail I KNOW. But whichever way it is, I think it's pretty deep and interesting. I saw that episode a while back and still remember! I guess it really marked me. But it's an interesting quote isn't it?

Oh and a thing that has really been bugging me lately is the people's ignorance at school. For example, in history class today, we watched a mini documentary on WW1. We saw actual footage taken at that time and like scenes of battles, and people running out of the trenches. It was very depressing! But some people laughed! THEY LAUGHED! These people lost their lives to defend civilization and peace, and they're laughing at their deaths? I find that just absolutely sad. Or maybe it was just me because I'm really emotionally sensitive? o-o

Anyways, that was my mini rant.

~Pat