My transformation as a writer

This is two days late; I didn't know we had a blog due.  I don't expect to get credit, but I felt like I should finish it anyway.
I had the same English teacher for two straight years in high school.  He completely redefined writing for me, from something that I dreaded to something that I didn't quite hate, but I understood.  He helped me understand that each word of a sentence, its definition, connotation, and placement has an effect that can totally alter how an audience reacts to a work as a whole.  I gained a great respect for writers and writing, but I couldn't manage to comfortably use the techniques and style that I saw in other people's work.
I came to the University, managing to get by on the knowledge I had and an occasional use of an allusion here and a metaphor there.  Cue sophomore year.  I, deciding to transfer into the Business school, had to take this class.  What could I possibly learn?  The good grades I got in my English classes Freshman year were proof that my skills were adequate.  I didn't need another review of techniques that I knew already.  My first paper and blog came and went, and I wasn't doing as well in the class as I had assumed that I would.  Criticism on my papers was on things that I hadn't thought about in huge detail.  I realized something: It's always possible to get better at writing, and the only real way to do that is through experience and experimentation.  The only way to become comfortable with using certain styles, structures, and rhetorical  strategies is by using them.  This class probably has done the most for me in my writing skills by forcing me to do things that I didn't want or feel comfortable doing with my writing. More than just improving my writing skills, the class gave me the courage try new things.  Without taking this class, in ten years, my writing might have been the exact same caliber as it was last year, but with what I learned this year, I'll be able to adopt so many new things into my writing and become comfortable using them.
My first blog described how it was difficult for me to actually sit down and write.  It is normally a chore for me to start a paper; once the words were down on the page, I had much less trouble editing and making changes.  I still believe I have that problem - it took me about two hours to write the first half-page of my last paper - but I think that I am much more comfortable in my writing now.  My eraser would be worn down after the first page of an essay.  Every sentence would be rewritten until I understood my own tone and direction with a topic.  Now, however, ideas come easier after looking at techniques in detail and discussing their use in readings.  I have been much happier with my rough drafts this year than in the past.
This class has taught me to continue writing and to test my boundaries.  There is no way that I can get better without experimentation.

My rewrite - Ed and I

As of now, I feel like I want to rewrite my first essay, "Ed and I".  This topic probably was the one that I was most excited to write about at the start, but it did not come out at all like I had hoped.  I had so many things bouncing around my head, so many great ideas and examples to use, that the entire paper ended up like a mesh of memories with no overall purpose.  I am not satisfied with my work on this paper.
Ed changed me in a few ways.  First, he opened me up to the idea that there are people that I can have a healthy, beneficial friendship with from all different walks of life.  Living so close to potentially dangerous parts of Detroit for all my life, I originally thought that it would be hard to find commonalities between people who lived there and people who lived in Grosse Pointe, which was a completely kind of place.  Even though we tended to discuss things that I would never bring up in conversation with a coworker - gun ranges, drugs, crime, sex - I eventually found myself really enjoying his presence and learning from him in a positive way.  Learning from him was never something that I would have expected to do at the beginning of the summer.  Another way he changed me was by showing me that even people who look like the worst role models can have something to teach.  Meeting Ed and spending a majority of my time with him at work actually gave the "don't judge a book by its cover" cliche a real world example.  This is the influence on me that I wanted to get across in my paper, but it didn't show through clearly enough.
The piece by David Sedaris that we read in class before the paper was due really inspired me to focus on exmamples and show rather than tell the readers about the influence a character has.  I think I might have overdone my attempts at "showing", however, and included far to little to help my audience understand.  In my attempts to write a paper about Ed, I ended up just giving example after example, expecting the readers to understand my thought process.  In this revision, I really hope to make it clear how meeting Ed changed me, not just through examples of his surprising behavior, but through how it made me feel.

Thanksgiving in the Menchl House

I wake up groggy; I shouldn't have stayed up so late the night before, but college has destroyed my sleep schedule.  I trudge downstairs, trying to avoid my heavily caffeinated parents for as long as possible, but as soon as my feet hit the kitchen floor I'm slapped with sarcastic comments about "college kids these days" and my terrible sleep habits.  They have a point, I didn't emerge from my hibernation until one.  PM.  I reach the coffee and the day begins.

We spend the hours before our relatives arrive making the house look as presentable as possible.  My mom gets this wonderful idea to make place cards for the table out of actual dead leaves, so my sister and I spend a good amount of time picking out 16 leaves that fit her rigid standards.  We're midway through the drawing and taping process when I hear the door slam and confused voices ring out.  I go downstairs and all of our relatives are wandering around the house calling out to see if anyone is actually home.  As my parents are both getting ready for dinner, I have to entertain all of our guests.  "Brad?  Could you make me some coffee?"  "Where do I put this casserole?"  My parents appear to save me from host responsibilities and I escape to the basement where all of my cousins have already made themselves at home.  I spend the rest of the time before dinner playing with the little ones, cooking, and making boring conversation with my aunts and uncles.

The food is ready.  We sit down and take turns saying what each of is thankful for.  My grandma, who had a stroke a few years ago, goes first and gives thanks for her good mind.  We do too.  After thanks giving, we set in and a happy silence fills the room.

It's late at night and I'm playing piano music with the little ones crawling over my body like little monkeys.  Their dad comes in to warn that they have to leave, and everyone, me include starts to whine. "Aw no!  You can't leave yet!  We rarely get to see all of you" I complain.  Nevertheless, it's time to go and slowly the house empties.  Another Thanksgiving is over, but the love that I got from my family, like the leftovers, will last forever.

Plans for my arguments on racial inequality in the movies

America has made great strides in racial equality in the past decades.  The gap between races socially and economically has quickly shrunk and essentially all opportunities are available to members of all races.  However, there are some areas of American society that have not improve as much as the others, namely the film market.Theatre itself has come under fire for being one of the only businesses that openly chooses employees based on what they look like and what race they are.  Actors are chosen based on what directors and producers believe will best match a character and bring in audiences.  Opportunities for black actors have grown over the years, but after examining the white audience reaction to black characters and the lack of successful black lead actors, it's obvious that the film world still holds some racial prejudice.

I'll be using several different kinds of evidence to support my argument:
IMDB might be my main source.  Although it is an open-edited source, it has accurate facts on big-name actors and the movies they were in.  I'll use the data from this to examine success of certain actors.
A study, "The Role of Actors' Race in White Audiences' Selective Exposure to Movies" is in the Journal of Communication, associated with the International Communication Association.  It describes black characters in movies and the way that white audiences react to them.  I will use results from the study to support my claim and provide potential reasoning behind why certain races don't have as much success in movies due to audience opinions.
My third source will be a newspaper article discussing the growth of the "urban" film market.  This article discusses the growing black family movie genre.  This might seem like an opposing view to my argument, as it shows that there are more opportunities for black actors, but it does support my claim.  While the "urban" film market - films catering to black audiences - is growing rapidly with stars such as Ice Cube, Chris Rock, and Tyler Perry, this separate genre is still segregated, with small percentages of white viewers.  Because of this, racial inequality is still present.

People like to think that the world is mostly good.  The virtues of mankind outweigh any problems.  However, the concept of altruism - doing good for no personal benefit - becomes unachievable due to ulterior motives that most would not consider.
Bill Gates has been lauded over his philanthropy and altruism.  After starting the multinational corporation Microsoft, Gates stepped down from his position of CEO in 2000 and devoted his life to philanthropic endeavors.  His Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation donates large sums of money every year to charities and scientific research programs.  Although his actions seem almost entirely based on the benefit of others, is Bill Gates really an altruist?  When Gates does good for others, he could have several motives.  If the situation arose that he could help someone else, he could be persuaded to act based on the good feelings that gets from helping others.  The pride that comes from this could be reason enough to continue helping people.  In this case, Gates would be, for the most part, acting purely for his own self-interest.  Also, in the case that he decided not to help, he could be haunted with regret for not acting.  The fear of guilt is also reason enough to continue helping others.  Bill Gate's philanthropy, therefore, cannot be described as altruistic, because it benefits him, helping him avoid guilt, and rewarding him with pride.
Another reason for seemingly altruistic behavior comes from an evolutionary standpoint.  If someone saves a child from an oncoming car, they could be acting altruistically, but evolutionarily, they are acting to preserve their species.  Saving a child will keep their genes in the gene pool.  In order for a species to be successful, every member should be protected.  In this case, saving the child would not be just a good deed, it would be done to better humankind.
Overall, in situations where one's actions could be described as "altruistic", there is always another beneficial product that comes with the act.  Because of this, no act can truly altruistic, because the word implies that no personal benefit comes to the individual.

A post based on a quote...

Hats, socks, shirts, pants, shoes, and coats.  What do all these items have in common?  They are all forms of clothing, which can turn a crazy nudist into a fully functioning member of society.  Nowadays, a strict unspoken dress code has been thrust upon the American public.  After outgrowing diapers, the only way anyone can have their ideas heard is by donning at least two articles of clothing.  However, throwing more complexity into the situation, certain staples must be worn.  Without the standard combo of shirts and pants - which absolutely must be on the bottom and shirts on top - or a dress, the individual in question might as well be wearing their birthday suit.  A vast majority of the notable figures in history wore clothes.  Even those who might have scorned the constraints that clothes place upon the body were forced to put on their cloth prisons daily.  Who knows if giants like Lyndon Johnson, John Quincy Adams, Theodore Roosevelt, Henry David Thoreau, and Alexander Graham Bell - all frequent skinny-dippers - would have chosen nudity if it was allowed of them?  Mark Twain once said, "Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society." This is a hard truth to handle.  A similar argument could be made in a land where beards designated one's social standing.  In such a world, bare-faced inhabitants would be excluded in any decision making processes.  How can something as frivolous as the hair on one's face change how society views them?   Someone who is destined for greatness may never get their chance due to their insufficient scruff.  Similarly, how can something as insignificant as the shirt on one's back determine whether they get a job, become famous, or can run for office?  For now, these clothing rules must be accepted, and a world where all states of undress are allowed is only a dream.

Risky Business

A car pulls up to the door of an abandoned warehouse and screeches to a stop.  The windshield is shattered, the engine smoking.  One man bursts from the car and limps up to the front door.  His chest is heaving and his clothes - a new black suit, tags intact - are soiled.  He pushes through into the massive whitewashed room, probably once a pristine factory, but now filled with nothing more than spiderwebs and dust.
-Hello?  Anyone?  It's Gunnar!  God dammit!
He sits down against a wall a tries to catch his breath.  He's the first one here.

Gunnar can't figure out how everything went wrong even after running it over and over in his head.  Sure he had failed before, but it shouldn't have turned out like this.  Finally the drumbeat of his heart began to slow down and he made a mental note to start working out again.  He hadn't stopped moving since earlier that day, when everything went to hell.  Maybe it was the adrenaline that kept him sprinting down the street, never pausing to catch his breath.  He had fired like a madman into the sky, a tactic that worked surprisingly well, and the crowds parted before him, this disheveled besuited man.  The case - the case!  He realizes that he should bring it inside, just to be safe - swung back and forth as he dashed over the sidewalk, threatening to throw off his balance.  He bolted across the street and directly into the hood of a car.  Getting back on his feet unfazed, Gunnar brandished his pistol, now probably out of bullets, and ran to the driver's side to pull the lady out of her seat.  Having secured a form of transportation, he could finally get to safety and meet up with the guys.
This was supposed to be a clean job: no one hurt, no police, just in and out.  Unfortunately, some punk decided to be Charles Bronson and set off the alarms.  Generally, once the alarm has been tripped, there's three minutes before the feds show.  Three minutes is a long time.  But that's why something else must have happened because not a minute and a half went by and suddenly the street outside the front door was lit up like the fourth of July.  The new guy - Eddie was his name? - just went nuts and started shooting at everything that moved, and Gunnar barely got out alive through the back door with the case. They were surrounded; the only thing left to do was run.