Describing Interesting And Notable Antics

One of my bookish pet peeves is title ambiguity. What I mean by this, is when the author of a book dwarfs the title, or the latter is a character’s name. The image above is a prime example of both. Sometimes magnifying the name of the author is a choice, done to attract attention to a famous person’s books regardless of their quality. Other times it is done accidentally, through careless planning. No matter the reason, it is ANNOYING. I much prefer the title to be larger. In particular instances like Silas Marner by George Eliot or Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë, even if one has read the book, it is easy to mix up the author and title. On more than one occasion, I have seen books like these shelved incorrectly at bookstores or libraries. Rather reasonably, in my opinion, the staff accidentally alphabetizes them by title rather than author, making it difficult to locate them when needed. Plus, you really can’t get a good idea of what a story is about if it is only a character’s...

So I finished reading The Crucible by Arthur Miller, and let’s just say I have mixed opinions about it. Now, I think it was an alright play as it served its purpose of accurately portraying the Salem witch trials through the dramatic arts, by my standards. Though it succeeded in this task, that does not mean I do not have any issues with it, besides the frustrating and inevitable plotline of such a story. Throughout his play, Miller used a lot of big words that went way over my head, and I spent a lot of time defining them. Examples of such words include, corroborating, calumny, prodigious, defamation, and abrogation. After reading several definitions, I sometimes still could not understand a word’s meaning. To some degree, I do not mind the use of these difficult terms, as many scholars were likely more versed in English vocabulary than the average English speaker now. Even so, I still found it bothersome to spend so much time on online dictionaries instead of reading a...

Alright, we’ve reached the final part of this series . . . I hope. The third time I fractured an arm was in the tenth grade. Now people say that badminton is one of the least dangerous high school sports out there, but even if that’s true, that doesn’t keep strange injuries from happening. So if you haven’t guessed already, this story begins during a badminton tournament.  The start of the day went as expected—I one a couple games, but lost most of them. Around noon, I was in the middle of a heated match with a worthy opponent, and though she was winning, I was sure I could make a comeback. I should probably mention that I play singles. As we battled for every point, I kept a watchful eye out for any mistakes from my competitor. Then it happened. She flicked the shuttle high into the air. If I could only get under it, I might have a chance at dealing back a smash and winning the point. Then it happened. One moment I was leaning deep backward to reach the bird, and t...

As I’ve mentioned in my previous arm breaking post, I have had multiple fractures to my upper limbs. My second occurred in the Eighth Grade. On that fateful slushy, February morning, I was taking public transit to school as per usual. All seemed fine as I reentered the cold air upon exiting the bus. I hadn’t missed my scheduled ride, and was bound to arrive on time. All I had left to do was cross a six-lane main road with the traffic light, walk less than a block, and I’d be there. I pressed the button to request the pedestrian walking signal, and waited impatiently at the curb. Then the light changed, and began to cross the street. However, I had still yet to make it halfway, when I slipped. On some stupid stretch of idiotic slush. That was all it took. Foolishly, as I fell, I stuck an arm out to brace my fall and keep my head from hitting the tarmac. In hindsight, I should have curled inwards, ball-liked, protecting my cranium with encircled arms. At least I had the brai...