PROFESSIONAL SPORTS: THE FUTURE OF TOMORROW

Do you know what I do every weekend? On a cool Saturday or Sunday evening I spend my day on my soft leather couch in my oversized jeans and my metallic grey sweat shirt; gulping down a can of Pepsi, forcing a large chunk of hot dog into my mouth, and of course, watching professional athletes perform their jobs. Yes, watch them exercise! Exhilarating, isn’t it?

           

While I cheer and shout for a wrong call is made in basketball, or football, or soccer, or tennis, and possibly lose my voice; professional athletes get paid what I would earn in about 20 years of my life in one year or a couple of months. This is just fine with me; I believe this is the future. Take basketball for example, is one season completely different from the last one? The upsets, the star-packed squads, the highlights plays are what make up a season. Usually, in my work place I try to initiate a discussion about basketball.

            “Wow John,” I said, “did you see the alley-oop dunk yesterday?”

            “No, but I am sure it was spectacular!”

            “It was more than spectacular,” I exclaimed, “a man put a ball through the rim!”

            Again and again, and oh look he did it again! Usually this is what I do while I put on a few extra pounds from eating two big Macs or my favorite, deep fried apples wrapped in bacon, yumm!! I am sure everyone would like my new look.

            But apart from that, while I admire what people consider as an “art”, (I could go to a museum and see art; at least I would be getting some exercise) my intelligence quotient is greatly depreciating. And at the same time I am wasting a lot of money paying for the sports program and buying a beer or some greasy fries at a sports stadium while the professional athletes are getting paid in the millions

           

Doctors, have a job; they save other people lives. Business men, have a job; they help increase a country’s economical standing (although, that’s a bit skeptical for U.S.A.). Fire fighters and police men have a job; they save lives and keep a country safe yet they get paid a meager salary. Teachers, have a job; they instill knowledge into young individuals that will in turn help a country be successful. Soldiers, well, they die for a country. Professional athletes on the other hand, they keep in shape, partake in a recreational activity for a living while getting paid a ridiculous amount of money, and the best part, they go bankrupt 2 years after retirement. I think this is really beneficially and highly instrumental in our society. Don’t you think?

           

What do they really do? Provide inspiration for an overweight man to dunk a basketball? Or give motivation for a lanky, scrawny boy, who possesses nimble knees and is neatly wrapped in skin; to one day throw a touchdown pass for the New York Giants? Yeah, I do not think so. 

In all truth, the next time I decide to watch professional athletes of all kind perform their jobs, I would not think about the sufficient amount of salary that I am getting through providing knowledge for young children; or my brother who lives with me because he has no job; or the soldier in Afghanistan that just happens to step on a land mine. Rather, performing my job by providing Kobe Bryant some money for his shoe line would be pilot on my train of thoughts.

           

Abolishing the teenage girl stereotype

Is the stereotype of teenage girls precise and accurate? On May 10^th, 2001 an article called Inside the Dangerously Empty Lives of Teenage Girls, written by Dr. Leonard Sax, was published. Dr. Sax, a PhD psychologist and a medical doctor, who has published two previous books concerning the effects on gender differences on learning, lives in Pennsylvania with his wife and daughter. The article’s primary focus is on the lives of teenage girls and the physical, emotional and aesthetical pressure they face throughout their lives.

            The crucial information pertaining to the exponential increase of teenage girls drinking habits is accurate which makes it very troubling. Dr. Sax compares  teenage boys, whose “use of alcohol has been pretty flat for decades”, to teenage girls drinking rate which  has been on the rise due anxiety. He argues that because girls are always worried about their physical attributes and obsessions over trivial ideas like sex, they use “alcohol [to relieve] anxiety”, at least while they are drinking. This is very true especially because of the expectation that has been set for girls in this age; females on magazine covers portray the perfect life, perfect skin, perfect hair and perfect body, and teenage girl nowadays are looking for a way to attain that particular physique. Constant thoughts by the teenage girls make them anxious and the best way to minimize that, at least for a temporary time, is to drink.

            In comparison, he analyzes the anxiety rate between teenage boys and girls. He disputes the fact that in relation to teenage girls, teenage boys are not extremely anxious. Dr. Sax shared his experiences with teenage girls who complain about “waking up at two in the morning upset about a pizza she ate for supper”, who (teenage girls) constantly believes in the notion that they are fat whereas they are not. He notes that in comparison to boys, who sleep in late, “eats a whole pizza for supper and doesn’t bat an eye….. and is perfectly content with his online games and pornography”, the anxiety rate of girls is much higher. Nowadays, girls are conscious about their weight and how they dress but the percentages of girls that actually have sleepless nights are low. In addition, teenage boys may possess the same problem that teenage girls have, but in a whole different context. They may wake up in the night because they are constantly bullied and ostracized or some be worried about being too fat.

            In contrast, he believed that about “36 percent “of girls “in the past year cut themselves with razors or burned themselves with matches”, because they being socially acceptable in school. He also said that successful girls, compared to successful boys do this “because they haven’t been living, they’ve been performing”. This is not entirely true because most girls that are successful are content with their lives and do not make an attempt to harm themselves. Girls who harm themselves choose to do that and are not forced to. In addition discussions on “what psychologist used to call middle childhood: eight to 12 years of age”, is discussed by Dr. Sax. Today, “there is no longer any distinction” between girls who are seventeen or girls who are twelve years of age. They all wear the same shirts saying “yes, but not with you” and the same skimpy shorts. This just shows that girls are losing their childhood and developing of sense of “whether they’re hot”.

            The article by Dr. Sax is a mixture of truths and personal beliefs and should not be entirely taken as a fact. But, some of his opinions regarding the rate of female alcoholics, pre-teen girls losing their childhood and the rise of anxiety in the female population, should be seriously taken in consideration. The article should undergo a review to establish a proper image pertaining to teenage girls.

An Unpleasant Day

                                                              AN UNPLEASANT DAY

            Getting up in the morning and having a cup of coffee is how I usually begin my day. As a hard-working doctor in my mid forties, to have a day or two off work really means a lot to my family and I; because I get to spend a lot of time with them. But today was a Thursday, a school day, so the possibility of me spending time with my children was hindered by wrong timing. Although I was a bit despondent, because I would not have any family time, I was also ecstatic that I had the chance to spend my day alone. I had a shower, I brushed my silky Mongolian hair, I put on a hooded sweater over my lanky body, I ate breakfast but, I desisted from having my usual cup of coffee. My relaxation time had begun. The couch in front of the television was the perfect destination for my day of pleasure. It was so comfortable compared to the coarse chair in my office. My derrière meshed perfectly with the leather couch and I tuned to a game of cricket. I made the right choice. The cricket game was extremely intriguing and I could not think of a better way to spend my day. But, my entertaining period was cut short. I heard footsteps coming from the kitchen and I became frightened and alert. “Did I leave the door open? Is an intruder in my house?” Thoughts ran through my head until I had an epiphany. I had forgotten about my wife.

            “Honey,” she yelled, “do you not remember we have to go the mall today?”

            My face crumpled in annoyance because my rare day of relaxation had been disturbed. I tried to distort the truth, “I thought we are going during the weekend,” I replied.

            “No, we agreed it was today.”

            She was on to me. The only way to get out of the distressing dialogue was to just comply and follow her to the mall. “Alright honey, I will be right out,” I replied with a solemn tone.

            “Thank you,” she responded, “I will be in the car.”

            Slowly, with a gloomy face and attitude, I got out of the soft couch and began my displeasing journey to the car where she waited for me. I took my car keys and my wallet. On any other day, I would be delighted. On any other day, I would have been alert. On any other day, I would have been charming. But today, I was belligerent.

            With not much zeal, I arrived at the car; a 2012 Toyota Camry. The car door opened gradually as I got into it. She was ready to go. I was not. Calmly, I put on my seatbelt and tried my best to hide my disturbed spirit. But she noticed with a quick glance.

            “Are you okay?” she asked

            “Oh yes honey”

            “Are you not excited to go to the mall?”

            “For sure,” I replied in a sarcastic tone, “I am elated.”

            She sensed the sarcastic atmosphere and stopped talking. The car was engulfed in silence. The trip to the mall was rather awkward being that we are a married couple for about ten years; but this was just one of those days. We arrived at the dreaded mall walking side by side. My hands were in my pockets because it was cold and we hurried into the mall. Immediately, she went to the women section for clothes and jewellery and my shoulders slouched. It was going to be a long day. Or so I thought.

            Ricki’s was our first stop. I rarely go into women’s clothing stores so I was amazed by the assorted amount of shoes and clothing they had. It was mind boggling. She went round the store and inspected most of the items; their prices, when they arrived at the store and so on. As I stared without much interest at the shoes, a young boy of an African descent passed by me. He glared at me and I gave him a quick glance. Moving on, she was in the store for a long time asking questions and discussing with women of her age group. It lasted forever. I felt ignored, dejected. At this moment, I dreamed about being home in the silky leather couch watching my cricket game. Finally, she finished her discussions and came to meet me.

            “Honey,” I said with my most pleasant tone, “are you not getting anything?”

            “No.”

            “Is there a problem? Then what was the purpose of coming to the mall.” I said in an unhappy tone.

            “Were you not listening to me,” she shot back, “when I told you that we are just going for window shopping? And I told you the purpose it to get a cheaper deal during Boxing Day?”

            “I remember now,” I said with a smile. But I did not get one in return. She meant business.

            From there on, she moved to a store named Benty, just across from Ricki’s, and I followed her. This time, my hands were in my pocket; not from the cold but because I had no interest whatsoever. As I moved sluggishly through the store, up and down the aisle, I spotted a piece of jewellery I could get for my wife for our anniversary. It was a gold necklace that had diamonds embedded in some of its holes. It was stunning. Maybe coming to the mall was not a complete waste of time I thought. Then I walked out of the store to make my wife hurry up. Again, I caught a glimpse of the African American teenager; but this time he was seated with writing on a piece of paper on a binder. He looked at my direction a couple of times but I just ignored him. Was he is any type of espionage? I thought. It is not weird to see an African American boy writing on a piece of paper while looking mostly at you I imagined. I contemplated the ideas that I had but without much prove, I neglected the situation. My wife eventually emerged out of the store and move on the next one named Suzy Shere. She was in there for a brief couple of minutes and later surface to my vision.

            “I have seen all I want to see,” she said quite enthusiastic.

            “That is awesome,” I complimented, “Are you ready to head back home?”

            She nodded.    

            Then we began our walk, side by side, my hands still in my pockets. We did not utter a word but we just exchanged glances. There were a lot of teenagers today I observed. Probably, there is an activity going on I thought. I dismissed the thought and started my plan for the remaining hours of the day. As soon as I arrive home, most definitely, I would have a Budweiser beer while watching cricket, a nice long nap, a delicious meal and some family time. Before I knew, I was already in the car driving home with a broad smile across my face.

            Out of curiosity my wife asked, “Is there something I should know about?”

            I winced, “No, not at all. I am just thinking,” I replied with a smile.

            She smiled back at me and we continued our short trip back home. Immediately, my facial expression changed; from happy to distraught because, I just remembered I have to work tomorrow.

           

The undeniable truth

Eniola Obafemi

The Reveal

Colton was intently reading the newspaper at night when Sarah, his wife, made a disgruntled comment, “Honey, there is something on my mind. Can we talk for a minute?”

            “Right now,” Colton replied rather irritated, “I am reading the paper; I am sure that can wait.”

            “But I am tired of waiting night after night honey. Please….. I need to get this off my chest.”

            Colton took off his glasses slowly; displeased and annoyed with her response he exclaimed, “Okay! What is the problem that you cannot seem to get off your chest? You can clearly see I am extremely busy.”

            The room was silent for a few minutes, and then in a low hush, Sarah replied, “I am pregnant….”

            “I am so sorry," he sneered sarcastically  "I did not hear you the first time. You are what?” yelled Colton.  

            Filled with fear, Sarah did not reply. She just stayed still for a moment. With a head of steam coming out from his ears, Colton exclaimed, “Since when did you know about this!”

            “About three weeks. I am so sorry I did not tell you earlier.”

            Colton looked at her in disgust and remarked, “Honey, I am so sorry I yelled at you at first,” he replied in a lower tone, “I have a lot on my mind and it has been a tough week for me.”

            “It is okay babe; I just wanted to let you know. Actually, I thought you would be really excited,” she replied.

            Colton looked up to his wife and remarked in a low whisper, “I am really excited for you honey,…..for us. This is one of the happiest days of my life and I am happy I am sharing it with you.”

            Sarah moved closer to him and rubbed his back with a delicate touch. “Honey I have been planning for the child too, where the crib will be and the clothes she would wear”
            With a distressing look, he starred at her and muttered "Did you just say 'she'."
            "I beg your pardon honey," she replied with a glow in her face.
            He shot back, "No, I did not say anything."

            Sarah returned back to rubbing his back while Colton ducked his head between his head and a tear drop cascaded down his eyes; because he knew he had been cheating on Sarah.

An unimaginable life

Extremely vivacious and boisterous, I consider my inexplicable charisma spontaneous. I am an immovable force who has fought wars in the Balkan and Congo. I am an irresistible individual who derive pleasure in scaling walls and crushing massive blocks of ice located in the North Pole. I speak 50 different languages fluently and in my spare time, I just love to eat a sandwich.

Billions of individuals have fallen at the power and strength that I possess. Billions of individuals have noticed my name and personality on the front cover of Times magazine and the Rolling Stone. Billions of people have been associated with me, for I am the head of an underground military organization. Billions of people wish they were me.

Occasionally, I enjoy the cool summer breeze and late night walks on Saturdays. On Sundays I partake in deadly missions, more deadly than the killing of Osama Bin Laden. But I do not suffer from post traumatic disorders. After my missions, I embark on a run to the peak of a mountain on the Alps to have my Zazen. Yes, I do speak Japanese. When I am bored, I build railways more than 100,000 feet, in my swimming pool. Then, I shower.

I invent gadgets before they are invented. I break records before they are considered broken. I create slangs before they are used. I am my own person. But I still hug my mother when I get home.

In the late 90’s, I freed Nelson Mandela from jail although people say he was released. Manchester United tried to recruit me at the age of 8. I declined. Remarkably, I am the subject of major researches and -documentaries  which all led to production of sport drinks. I reincarnate political and religious figures such as Mahatma Gandhi and Abraham Lincoln for a 5 minutes evening discussion. Barack Obama is my brother.

My deft touch and quick thinking while playing soccer made the likes of Cristiano Ronaldo and Messi to retire. I was tagged the next big thing in soccer. I possess a 58 inch vertical, but you do not see me bragging about it on a college application. I have defeated great Chinese opponents in games of ping pong. I love the taste of KFC chicken nuggets and Wendy's baconator. I have a .6% body fat.

Winning the Nobel Peace Prize for single-handedly for the killing Moammar Ghadafi was no big deal. Winning Beyonce 6 Grammys awards in one night for writing and choreographing all her songs was okay. Winning a Jiu Jitsu contest in Taiwan and lotto 649 was amazing.  But the game of tic tac toe stands to be my major foe. It is ridiculous.

I have lived with monks for 2 years, wrestled bulls, maintained a 4.2 grade point average, separated siamese twins and danced with Michael Jackson. Next on my resume is to have the experience of attending college.

Writing Elements

ELI

          Elements in writing are masterful in conveying ideas. A silent room in a hospital is the setting of the short story Eli, from Vincent Lam’s novel, Bloodletting and Miraculous cures. A notorious man named Eli, is arrested by two officers, a male and female, and brought to a hospital for medical attention to be given by Doctor Fitzgerald. The short story illustrates the use of three key elements: foreshadowing, theme and conflict.

       

         The author uses the element of foreshadowing to make the reader think ahead and anticipate the conflict, dilemma or predicament. This type of the device comes in play at first when Eli has a conversation with the doctor in the silent room. After the conversation, the doctor learns about some information on how Eli attains his cut on his head and later confronts the police officers. During the dialogue, the female officer emphasizes that the doctor should “watch [himself] with Eli” telling him that “[Eli] is quick.” As the story develops, the statement then proves to be a turning point in the short story. As the doctor stitches the cut on Eli's head, “[he] [lunges] quickly” with a “flashing surge of movement” to take a bite out of the doctors hand. The new cut on the doctor’s glove is later identified to be contaminated with HIV. 

        
             The author heavily explores the theme of deception. Fitzgerald as a doctor, is being extremely deceitful. Although doctors are under oath to treat all patients equally, Fitzgerald is hurting Eli indirectly. After being bitten by Eli, he makes a proposal to police officer to brutalize him, inflicting on him “multiple bruises on his limbs and torso.” Additionally, the theme of deception comes in play when the police lie to the doctor about Eli obtaining his cut on his head by falling down while in custody; but Eli later reveals to the doctor that the police hit him with a “sucker punch” because he did not answer an interrogation question. The main truth is that the two professions, the doctor and the police, will never reach a true solution for a problem if they keep deceiving each other.
     
          Equally important, conflict is a very useful element that the author employs. First, the author engages the reader by using conflict between doctor Fitzgerald and the police officers in form of a dialogue. They both keep valuable information from each other; the officers conceal the fact that Eli was brutalized by them and the doctor never reveals to the officers that Eli has the HIV virus. This leads to a series of confrontations between the two occupations and brings about minimal trust. Additionally,Vincent Lam utilizes the conflict of the doctor versus his thoughts. In this case, the doctor has an internal conflict when he tries to decide what will be best solution to be given to Eli to make him "learn respect" after Eli took a bite of his hand. Also, the doctor has to choose between 'creating clean paperwork" for Eli and inflicting pain and suffering on both Eli and the police because he blames both the parties for the bite on his hand. Later on, he chooses inflicting pain on Eli by darting a "tongue depressor.... further into [Eli's] mouth" until he grunts and gags for while as well as planting a "scissors on the stretcher within the reach" of Eli's right hand so as to cause suffering to the police officers.

         Thus, the elements Vincent Lam employs in his short story which include foreshadowing, the use of theme and conflict, are the three key writing styles that brings out a deeper understanding of the relationship between the doctor, officers and Eli. Also, these writing components reveal the motive of each character in the short story which readers realize and anticipate the next possible predicament or dilemma in the story. This goes to show that the uses of writing elements are extremely important in bringing out the main issues in a piece of writing.
     

The Encounter

George looked up from shoeing the horse to see the outline of Curley's wife in the doorway of the barn. They were alone. Immediately, George's facial expression change drastically; from glowing with joy to feeling nauseated. His lips trembled in horror, feeling the tension in the air. Suddenly, he started sweating bullets.  His hands were sweaty then he stopped shoeing the horse. He was transfixed with what he was seeing. A brilliant light beamed through the barn doorway revealing Curley's wife. She stood against the door in a slantly position caressing her silky black hair cascading down her shoulders.  Her lips were ruby red and reflected like glass due to the sunlight. Her icy blue eyes stared intently at George. Then she smiled. George's eyes were still engaged on the magnificent creature that is Curley's wife. Still in awe, he spoke stuttering, "Say, what....... what you doin' here."
    She walked with an angelic stride towards George and spoke "I thought you only work on the ranch," she said, "what you shoein' a horse for?"
     "Crooks ain't here," George replied " and time is money here, the boss tells me to do sometin' and I do it."
    She stopped in her stride and sat on some hay. "It's pretty cool in here," she said while playing with her dress, "don't you wanna just stay here, now's as good a time as any."
    George looked at her in a pleading manner, "You are barking up the wrong tree," he said. There was fear in his eyes, but he still fixed it solely on her.
     "Can't a girl just talk to someone!" she barked. Then back in her calm state she said "What's your deal anyways?"
      George was stiff as a board "Ma'am I think you should go back to your home," he said looking down at the ground.
       She smiled and sighed, "That's not a home, I don't even like Curley" she said in an attempt to butter him up. "I just wanna be as free as a bird and talk to someone."
     Although George was tempted to talk because of her plea he said, "Ma'am I don't want you stirring up trouble, You seem nice and all but I don't want to get canned."
       Not paying attention to George, she started to pour out her emotions. "Goddam it, haven't you been listenin' to me, I hate his guts. I can't even go a day without crying in that house, his crazy that's what he is. I want to talk to a guy a like you, seem like your heart as good as gold and you won't go out blabbing to the other guys." Her voice went soft and calm, "I never met a man I didn't like, but Curley is just as mean as a snake."
      But George just stared at her with his eyes cold as icicles and didn't say a word.
    "Won't you talk to me," she said in a cold whisper.
George came close within two feet of her, with cold hands, warm heart and whispered, "It'll be okay." Before she could talk, he bolted out of the barn and into the field although he forgot to finish shoeing the horse.