Dodgeball

Powerlessness is a bouncing ball. Whenever power is needed, the ball is thrown so it can explode and give combustible energy to its owner. But lately, this ball has been caught by the pro-dodge ball player, vengeance. Vengeance is swifter than powerlessness and much more difficult to control. Nobody can just junk him around a court and expect to not receive injury. During the dodge ball game, powerlessness always loses, even when it wins. It blames the victory on the team, not his aerodynamics. After a loss, powerlessness takes responsibility for not being bouncy or hard enough when thrown.

Vengeance, however, is far different. He is always willing to play hard ball. Vengeance never feels afraid; he is blinded by victory. It is all about the win for him, and he will do whatever he can to take down his opponent.

It is belief that unites and balances the two during a rough game. Belief, the elementary school teacher, can see the potential for vengeance to improve his abilities by protecting powerlessness. She sees how he could blossom into positivity. But powerlessness must be retained instead of hurled at the opposing team. It is all about the game plan that will help vengeance and powerlessness create victory.




Belief does what she can to keep powerlessness aired up while keeping vengeance from giving bruises to teammates.

Elementary, my dear Watson

I grew up enveloped in the world of Sherlock Holmes. I loved the stories of murder, mystery, and deception. I read about Irene Adler, Inspector Lestrade, and Professor Moriarty. I loved following Holmes through the investigation; he never seemed to be getting anywhere, but he always extracted complex secrets out of the tiny flake of dirt found 50 feet away from the body and solved the crime in half and hour.

Sherlock Holmes is the first real superhero. His powers of observation and deduction are beyond human comprehension. Surely he got electrocuted in his basement or bitten by a spider or something too? But, unlike Spiderman and such, he seems to be the perfect role model: inquisitive, observant, and educated. The perfect hero, right? Wrong.

For example, did you know that Sherlock Holmes was a cocaine addict? It's true. In at least one of Arthur Conan Doyle's short stories, Watson has to descend into a smoky drug den and drag Holmes (still under the influence) out to get him to talk to a client.

But Sherlock Holmes is the epitome of education and knowledge, right? Wrong, perhaps. Sure, Holmes knows everything about certain specialized subjects, such as medicine, chemistry, and distinguishing between various brands of tobacco. But when Watson first meets Holmes, Watson is amazed that Holmes doesn't know that the earth revolves around the sun. It's true, look it up.

But, no matter what else may be immaginations of our cultural memory, Holmes definitely said "Elementary, my dear Watson," right? Wrong. He never said it. The closest he ever came was the simple reply "Elementary!" And he only said it once.

Does this mean that we should abandon Sherlock Holmes as a cultural hero? No. To me, this is precisely the allure of the Sherlockian myth: that a man could have near-debilitating faults, but still be astounding at another task. Isn't being a real hero all about overcoming the odds anyway?

My guitar and Me

I was about 8 years old when I started to play the guitar. At first it was like a game. All I wanted to do was to play the guitar. Later I saw it as an opportunity.

When I learned the skill, I also learned a different way to see the world.

Music has had a positive effect in my life. After I started to play the guitar, people started looking at me differently. I was not longer Magdalena...I was now Magdalena the only girl in town who knew how to play the guitar.

Suddenly I was almost in every party, wedding or funeral. I guess that 's where my personal life went invisible. It didn't bother me...I was now the singer...I was not longer a regular or invisible person. I was now part of people's lives. I was there participating in many different stages of their lives, with my music.

Throughout the years I've learned that nothing happens by causality. I believe that there is a reason for everything. Now that I"m not longer living in my native town, I still value the great opportunity I had to enjoy many lives with my music. That feels good!!!

I sat there in the dark attempting to study my notes. No success. None. Zip. Zero. Zip. Surprising? Not really. Bright idea, Molly. Turn on the light. What a concept. A lit room would probably make studying slightly easier. Just slightly. Can’t roommate is sleeping. Wow, this really sucks. Honestly, how am I expected to study anything in the dark? Maybe I can just explain to my teachers. Sorry professors, roommate was sleeping. No light-couldn’t study or complete my assignments. I’m sure they would totally understand. No problem Molly. Just get the assignments in at your convenience. You are the light of our lives, take your time. Ha. Not likely. That seems, hmm…, just about as probable as me making an A while studying in the dark.
Alternatives. Burn a candle. There is some light. Can’t. Fire hazard. Safety issue. Blah. Blah. Blah. Times like these make me love living in the dorms. Flashlight. Batteries are burnt out. They don’t last nearly as long as light bulbs.
My whole thought process on light bulbs gets me thinkin about my dad's theory on boys and light switches. His very deeep thinking (ha) on boys goes something like this. "Molly, boys are like light switches. They are always turned on, but you can turn them off." Wow, Dad. Thanks for that. Getting back on track though. My study habits are bad enough with my horrible attention span, and deleting my light source from the scenerio is really no help.
The light bulb seems the best and most probable solution to this dilemia, but thanks to a tired roommate looks like I'm headed to the library. What a bright idea.

Scissors are insignificant or are they.

The object I pulled from the bag was not very interesting. Scissors are used every day and I can’t really imagine someone wondering where the first pair came from or who decided to make them. The first time I used scissors I was probably five and in kindergarten. The only thing I cared about then was cutting the shapes and pictures my teacher gave us. I thought the scissors were just a useless tool if you weren’t using them to do busy work my teacher gave us.
Though I never really understood their significance then, I now know they are used for many practical reasons. They are used to cut hair, fabrics when making clothes, in surgical operations, or when building a home types of scissors are used to cut them materials needed. People buy scissors without thinking about the purchase, they just realize they needed them for whatever reason.
The first scissors were made in Egypt and they didn't look at all like the tools we think about today. They were made of two bronze clips, I guess you could call them, and were connected by a bronze spring. They were used to cut materials just as we do now, but now they are a little more advanced.

The Drinking Straw

What is one of the most important yet over looked inventions ever? The Straw.
Rarely do I ever notice such an important commodity, but just like the Post It Note I’ve sometimes wondered, “Man, I wish I would have thought of that!”
The straw as we basically know it today was invented in 1888 by Marvin Stone. The earliest drinking straws were hollow stems of grass, literally made of straw. (Hence the name.) Now, a straw is a thin tube of plastic that comes in many colors and shapes. The basic straw is a straight plastic tube about 8-inches long and is normally clear or white. The “crazy” straw is made of hard plastic and has lots of twists and turns at the top. When liquid is sucked through the straw, it quickly flows up through the winding path, for the drinker’s entertainment. The “bendy straw” invented in 1937 is a bendable straw that has an accordion-like hinge near the top for extra convenience. A straw works when the muscular action of the mouth reduces the air pressure in the mouth, whereupon atmospheric pressure forces the drink up the straw. One interesting advantage of using a straw when drinking besides convenience is the reduction of tooth decay. Using a straw reduces the liquid contact with teeth so you when you drink your sugary Dr. Pepper the straw reduces your risk of getting cavities.

Insignificant Wooden Longhorn Statue

This small wooden statue is a brownish tan color with features that are defined very well. The texture is very smooth, like it's been sanded down several times, and coated with wood-protectant. The wood is very cool, almost as if it has been sitting by an air conditioner or something. The wood is cedar, and the smell takes me back to the days when I used to hide in my grandmother's wooden cedar box during hide and seek as a kid. It has the exact same smell.

I suppose a child could play with this object, but I don't think it's meant for that. It's heavy for its size, and isn't flexible at all. I believe this is meant to be a decoration in someone's home, sitting on a mantle or fireplace. This object was made by careful carving and sculpting. The artist payed particular attention to details. The facial features, muscle features, and of course, the large horns, are sculpted very well.

These simple items, believe it or not, have brought a lot of comfort to many people. It took time and patience to create this object. Even though this object doesn't have a lot of significance and meaning, it's in many ways a simple, beautiful thing.

Highlighter

Pink Sharpie Accent Highlighter.

Long, bright pink, round, hard.

Smooth, little rivets here and there, room temperature. 

Smells like plastic and potent chemical smell from the ink.

Click click click is the noise it makes as I pop the clip on the cap and tap tap tap is the sound it makes as I hit it on the table.

The plastic is smooth in my mouth and hard on my teeth as I bit on the cap.  

The Paperclip

The paper clip is a wonder of simplicity and function, so it seems puzzling that it wasn’t invented earlier. The paper clip is a device that can held several sheets of paper together by means of pressure: it leaves the paper intact and can be easily removed.

A paper clip can be found almost everywhere. Everybody has at least one at home, in the car or in their workplace. This little thing has become very essential in our daily lives.

It is believed that the paper clip was invented in 1899 by William D. Middlebrook. For centuries, straight pins, string and other materials were used as fasteners, but they punctured or damaged the papers. While the paper clip seems like such an obvious solution, its success had to wait for the invention of steel wire, which was "elastic" enough to be stretched, bent and twisted.

The paperclip has also served as a symbol of unity. During World War II people from Norway wore them on their lapels as a symbol of resistance against Nazi occupation during World War II. In 1998 it was also used by a group of students that wanted to have a project where each victim during the Holocaust would be represented by a paper clip. Millions of people all over the world responded to it. They ended up with more than 30 million paper clips.

Although colorful plastic materials and new shapes have challenged the double-oval steel-wire paper clip over the years, none has proven superior. The traditional paper clip is the essence of form follows function. After a century, it still works. Isn’t that great!

Mirror, Mirror, on the wall...

Supersitions about mirrors have been around since the age of mirrors began. Mirrors were originally pools of dark water which evolved into polished stones used to reflect images. I can't imagine the quality was very good! Eventually mirrors were made out of polished glass and molten precious metals. (Now they're just cheap silver material attached to glass--sold for a buck at your local Dollar General.) But the myths and stories behind the dreaded mirror have been around since the beginning.

It is said that a mirror is a reflection of the soul--that it cannot ever lie. The danger behind this thought is that a mirror can be broken. We've all heard that if you break a mirror, it's seven years bad luck...but why? When you break a mirror, legend has it that a piece of your soul breaks off too. Your soul is a precious thing--you only have one--you don't want to break it! However, there is a cure: Wait 7 years! The soul regenerates in exactly 2556 days! Yep, that's 7 years--coincidence huh?! Break the mirror but not have an extra seven years to wait it off? Simple--grind the mirror into dust. (What this does, I have no clue, but that's the rule!) It is also extremely unlucky to see something in the mirror that is not actually there. Remember, mirrors don't lie! It could be the soul of a long lost relative of a southern family that forgot to cover the mirrors during the wake of a dead person. The souls, when leaving the body and heading to the great hereafter, sometimes get caught in the uncovered mirrors during the mourning period.

So whether you believe in superstitions or not, it's usually not a good idea to mess with mirrors. I really don't know anyone who has an extra seven years to wait around for the dead guy with a deep southern accent to leave.

Just One Bite

There it was, just sitting on my desk, staring at me. It wanted to make me feel guilty, I knew that. It wanted to torture me. It knew what I had done, or not done as the case may be. Its existence was intended for practical purposes, probably just to help out a good-natured elementary school teacher, yet it threatened me to do something that I knew I had no time to do, and for that reason, I must break it down…make it weak.

“WHY ARE YOU HERE, MR. APPLE?!?!?!” I screamed at it.

I knew that my anger would take it off guard. It was expecting love and devotion. It wanted me to use it, to sit its smooth, cool body on top of some papers and let it stare at me with affection, but I was too damn hungry to let that apple stay. And what’s worse is that even if I had given in to its seduction, my appetite would not have been satisfied. For this apple, sadly, was not a red-glistening Fuji or a tart, lime-green Granny Smith. It was orange. It was orange and translucent. It was gross. Yet, it made my mouth salivate. The evil queen was offering this amber apple to me, but I would be smarter than Snow White. Because I know that amber does not taste good. Amber is fossilized tree resin, and no matter how beautiful its shape, I would resist. Although, it would be far easier if I had not skipped breakfast this morning.