I am really not sure what theme my blog should be. I have considered many options, and none really seem to fit. But, I think I found one that I really like. I am going to write this blog as a free-write. This means that I will use my own style and persona. The writing will be purely Ian Youngs. I feel that this style will let my writing flow much better. I believe that my ideas and my feelings will be expressed clearer. It will also give the reader a more “personal” relationship with me. When people read this blog I want them to feel comfortable and chill. I’ll try not to hide anything, and keep everything in the open .
A snap judgment could go two ways with my blog. Because it is a free write and has no form, it could be seen that I am uncaring and selfish. A rebel trying to promote his own views; infecting the norm. This would be a very bad conclusion. It is true that I don’t like authority, and I have a problem with rules. But I follow them, and do my own thing inside of them.
The flip side of the previous snap judgment is a “nicer” theme. It is one where people could see that I am a free spirit, just expressing whatever comes to my mind, not caring what anyone thinks. Again I believe that this is a bad conclusion. Yes, this is free-form writing. Yes it is able to be bent and shifted at my will. But it has its limits, and I have to adhere to them. If I am given a topic, I will stick to it. I may use allusions in my blog, but the topic will remain constant.
Either way I look at it, thin slicing my blog, is not the best thing to do. Though both views that I have given are different, they are very much the same. Both views show me as something I am not. I do not want to be a rebel or a free spirit. I just want to be me. I want to write, talk, and live as me. Again this is where Blink falters. I don’t believe that any of the experiments take account of people’s personalities. I mean after a hard test where I have to make sentences out of given words, of course I am going to walk slower, or act more aggressive. The fact is that I am slower because my brain is shot from the difficulty of the test. And I would be more aggressive because of the difficulty of the test, and the time I have spent on it. That is just who I am.
I don’t think anyone can thin slice perfectly, and that is why my blog is unique. I am giving you me in the form of writing. And I do not believe that anyone can thin slice me.
Signing out,
Ian
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Memoir Essay- Baseball Memoir
Ian Youngs
Robert Bricker, Kristine Kelly
SAGES
9/21/08
Baseball Memoir
I believe that I have endured every hardship common to baseball players from jammed fingers to dehydration. But no injury was worse than the raspberries. My skin just seemed to swell, as if someone shoved a balloon under my leg and started to blow it up. The bubbles came next. Not big bubbles, more like bubble wrap. And oh, the color! The color was the worst. Bright red like a stop sign, which turned to maroon after a couple of minutes. And the darker the raspberry became, the more it throbbed.
But no matter what happened, I would play on. I had to play on. The grass and clay called to me, the field called to me, the game itself called to me. It wanted me, and I wanted it. And there was absolutely nothing that would keep me away from participating, not even my raspberries.
As I played, I got better, and wiser. And so did the game. With every new experience I had, baseball would throw me another one. (No pun intended.) If I do say so, I have been around the block when it comes to baseball. I have been on all-star caliber teams, as well as teams that should just be put out of their misery. I have hit in the .400’s and fielded terribly; and I have fielded like a pro, and not been able to hit a small planet. So, as I see it, I know baseball pretty well.
Every player has a goal. Whether it is baseball or some other sport, every player has some goal that he wants to attain. These goals are important. They are iconic moments that almost never happen. Winning a world title, getting eight gold medals in one Olympics, becoming the “world’s fastest man.” And when these events do happen, everyone knows who did them. People remember the names and pass them down through history. Jesse Owens, 1972 Dolphins, Wilt Chamberlain are names that can and will never be forgotten. I wanted to achieve one of these goals. I was going to hit a grand slam.
My last year playing in little league was one of my worst years ever. But I still wanted to go out with a bang. I wanted my iconic moment. I didn’t want fame or fortune. I just wanted people to remember what Ian Youngs did for the Indians in the Milford International Little League. I wanted to feel the glory that comes with leaving a piece of history behind. And I would do it.
If my last season was terrible for me; it was even worse for my team. We would have been in last place if not for the team that forfeited out. We were awful. In this particular game we had no chance of winning, at all.
It was the last inning of our six-inning game. I got up to bat and figured that I would do what I had done the rest of the year, strike out. I watched the first two pitches go by. They were balls. I swung at the next two, and missed. But the next pitch was different. I was able to see it. Right out of the pitcher’s hand everything clicked. I was batting, I had a hitter’s count, and the bases were loaded. Wait the bases were loaded? Holy cow, they were. Everything clicked.
I saw the spin on the ball. It was a fastball, and it was dropping. Not where I like to hit the ball, but I could see where it was going. I knew that this pitch was different. This pitch was not like the others I had seen in the game. This one just seemed, unique. I swung.
I remember at the beginning of the year saying, “I can feel myself hitting. I can’t explain it, but I can feel it.” That day, when the bases were loaded and I had a two and two count, I could feel it. I did feel it. The ball flew off my bat.
I watched the ball elevate quite quickly. This was strange. My hits don’t elevate. They are more lobbing, even when they go far. But this one really rocketed straight up. I dropped my bat, and started towards first base. I still watched though. In baseball, this is a no-no. You do not do this. In high school, you would have to run laps if you watched your ball long enough. But I was glued to this ball. It was so out of place, so unique.
What made it even more unreal was the sound that the crowd made. Yes, I had heard the ping of the bat, but the crowd was what intrigued me. At first there was collective amazement. They all kind of spoke at once like, “Oh my god!” Then the crowd all got quiet. They had to be inside of my head thinking, “My hits don’t do that.” But this one did.
I was a halfway to first base when the ball started its decline. I cannot describe how it fell, because it just fell. Like when a pen drops or money falls. It wasn’t special in any regards.
When I was just a few feet from first, the ball stopped. This was a surreal moment. I wasn’t sure how to act. This had never happened before. Should I jump? Should I stop? I was at a loss as to what I should do. Then after I rounded first, I knew exactly what I should do.
I clapped. I clapped so hard that my hands hurt. Not like the pain you feel after you have hit the ball on a cold day, but a throbbing pain. A victory pain.
I had just hit a grand slam. The ball had stopped ten feet over the center field fence. I could see my best friend’s little brother sprinting, knocking over everyone to get the ball for me. The crowd gave me shivers. Everyone, not just my team’s parents, everyone’s parents and friends were all screaming. I could feel their excitement. I was their excitement.
My cheeks expanded so far as I rounded third base. I wanted everyone to see my smile, to see my pride as I triumphantly trotted towards home. I crossed home plate, that white spot of glory, that speck of ivory that gave our team runs, and me a place in history.
My team jumped all over me. Everyone jumped on me. Coaches and staff, almost everyone that could leap on me, did. And I leaped too. I don’t know why we were jumping. Was it to celebrate our four runs? I don’t think so. Was it tradition? Possibly. I think it was because a grand slam is so rare, that it deserves celebration. It is the royal flush, the 300, the 19-0 season. That is why we jumped. We all knew that we would probably never, ever be able to bounce and leap like this again.
Anybody walking by would have thought that we had won the game. It was so noisy. I could swear the whole field, no, the whole neighborhood was saying something about this hit. There was nothing silent at the time. Every alarm, clock, dog, cat, fish, beeper, cell phone, pager, went off to show appreciation for my rare feat.
I could have floated. I could have wafted off with a breeze. I had done it. I had completed a task that can and will be remembered. Kids may go pro, or become doctors or world leaders, but they cannot say what all baseball players dream of saying, “I hit a grand slam.”
I know that this story sounds very grandiose and overplayed, like something out of a cheesy baseball flick. But that is how I can remember this moment. If you come from the town I am from you will understand.
Milford is a medium sized city where sports are not really high on the priority list. So when something big happens, everyone remembers. For instance, when I remember the crowd going absolutely crazy and everyone jumping; that is all absolutely true.
There is the possibility that I was wrapped up in my elation in that moment that everything seemed overblown. I don’t doubt that this was the case, but I would rather have people enjoying themselves rather than being bored.
I would like to concentrate on the part when I zeroed in on the baseball. This moment really happened. I felt as if I was in the Matrix. Everything about that moment seemed to be in slow motion. I was so focused on that pitch that I was able to zero out everything around me.
This may sound like a superhuman ability, but this is not the only time when I have focused on something this hard. I was able to do this many more times in my baseball career. When I zero in on a pitch everything else means nothing. Everything else is nothing.
I can actually remember when I hit this ball. I can see exactly where the ball was when I started my swing. I can remember the moment after it left my bat. There is so much about that moment that I can recall that it scares me.
I chose this moment because it was the defining point of my team’s year. We rarely won and played horribly. Anything that could go wrong with a baseball team did. But at the moment I swung at that pitch, our team was special. We were the Milford International Little League Indians, the comeback kids. And I was Ian Youngs, the kid that hit a grand slam on a cloudy summer afternoon.
That one moment changed our team. For that moment in time we were the all-stars, the MVP’s of the Little League World. That is why this moment sticks out in my mind. I had changed the entire face of my little league team. I was the icon. I was the kid that hit the grand slam, the kid that achieved history.
Robert Bricker, Kristine Kelly
SAGES
9/21/08
Baseball Memoir
I believe that I have endured every hardship common to baseball players from jammed fingers to dehydration. But no injury was worse than the raspberries. My skin just seemed to swell, as if someone shoved a balloon under my leg and started to blow it up. The bubbles came next. Not big bubbles, more like bubble wrap. And oh, the color! The color was the worst. Bright red like a stop sign, which turned to maroon after a couple of minutes. And the darker the raspberry became, the more it throbbed.
But no matter what happened, I would play on. I had to play on. The grass and clay called to me, the field called to me, the game itself called to me. It wanted me, and I wanted it. And there was absolutely nothing that would keep me away from participating, not even my raspberries.
As I played, I got better, and wiser. And so did the game. With every new experience I had, baseball would throw me another one. (No pun intended.) If I do say so, I have been around the block when it comes to baseball. I have been on all-star caliber teams, as well as teams that should just be put out of their misery. I have hit in the .400’s and fielded terribly; and I have fielded like a pro, and not been able to hit a small planet. So, as I see it, I know baseball pretty well.
Every player has a goal. Whether it is baseball or some other sport, every player has some goal that he wants to attain. These goals are important. They are iconic moments that almost never happen. Winning a world title, getting eight gold medals in one Olympics, becoming the “world’s fastest man.” And when these events do happen, everyone knows who did them. People remember the names and pass them down through history. Jesse Owens, 1972 Dolphins, Wilt Chamberlain are names that can and will never be forgotten. I wanted to achieve one of these goals. I was going to hit a grand slam.
My last year playing in little league was one of my worst years ever. But I still wanted to go out with a bang. I wanted my iconic moment. I didn’t want fame or fortune. I just wanted people to remember what Ian Youngs did for the Indians in the Milford International Little League. I wanted to feel the glory that comes with leaving a piece of history behind. And I would do it.
If my last season was terrible for me; it was even worse for my team. We would have been in last place if not for the team that forfeited out. We were awful. In this particular game we had no chance of winning, at all.
It was the last inning of our six-inning game. I got up to bat and figured that I would do what I had done the rest of the year, strike out. I watched the first two pitches go by. They were balls. I swung at the next two, and missed. But the next pitch was different. I was able to see it. Right out of the pitcher’s hand everything clicked. I was batting, I had a hitter’s count, and the bases were loaded. Wait the bases were loaded? Holy cow, they were. Everything clicked.
I saw the spin on the ball. It was a fastball, and it was dropping. Not where I like to hit the ball, but I could see where it was going. I knew that this pitch was different. This pitch was not like the others I had seen in the game. This one just seemed, unique. I swung.
I remember at the beginning of the year saying, “I can feel myself hitting. I can’t explain it, but I can feel it.” That day, when the bases were loaded and I had a two and two count, I could feel it. I did feel it. The ball flew off my bat.
I watched the ball elevate quite quickly. This was strange. My hits don’t elevate. They are more lobbing, even when they go far. But this one really rocketed straight up. I dropped my bat, and started towards first base. I still watched though. In baseball, this is a no-no. You do not do this. In high school, you would have to run laps if you watched your ball long enough. But I was glued to this ball. It was so out of place, so unique.
What made it even more unreal was the sound that the crowd made. Yes, I had heard the ping of the bat, but the crowd was what intrigued me. At first there was collective amazement. They all kind of spoke at once like, “Oh my god!” Then the crowd all got quiet. They had to be inside of my head thinking, “My hits don’t do that.” But this one did.
I was a halfway to first base when the ball started its decline. I cannot describe how it fell, because it just fell. Like when a pen drops or money falls. It wasn’t special in any regards.
When I was just a few feet from first, the ball stopped. This was a surreal moment. I wasn’t sure how to act. This had never happened before. Should I jump? Should I stop? I was at a loss as to what I should do. Then after I rounded first, I knew exactly what I should do.
I clapped. I clapped so hard that my hands hurt. Not like the pain you feel after you have hit the ball on a cold day, but a throbbing pain. A victory pain.
I had just hit a grand slam. The ball had stopped ten feet over the center field fence. I could see my best friend’s little brother sprinting, knocking over everyone to get the ball for me. The crowd gave me shivers. Everyone, not just my team’s parents, everyone’s parents and friends were all screaming. I could feel their excitement. I was their excitement.
My cheeks expanded so far as I rounded third base. I wanted everyone to see my smile, to see my pride as I triumphantly trotted towards home. I crossed home plate, that white spot of glory, that speck of ivory that gave our team runs, and me a place in history.
My team jumped all over me. Everyone jumped on me. Coaches and staff, almost everyone that could leap on me, did. And I leaped too. I don’t know why we were jumping. Was it to celebrate our four runs? I don’t think so. Was it tradition? Possibly. I think it was because a grand slam is so rare, that it deserves celebration. It is the royal flush, the 300, the 19-0 season. That is why we jumped. We all knew that we would probably never, ever be able to bounce and leap like this again.
Anybody walking by would have thought that we had won the game. It was so noisy. I could swear the whole field, no, the whole neighborhood was saying something about this hit. There was nothing silent at the time. Every alarm, clock, dog, cat, fish, beeper, cell phone, pager, went off to show appreciation for my rare feat.
I could have floated. I could have wafted off with a breeze. I had done it. I had completed a task that can and will be remembered. Kids may go pro, or become doctors or world leaders, but they cannot say what all baseball players dream of saying, “I hit a grand slam.”
I know that this story sounds very grandiose and overplayed, like something out of a cheesy baseball flick. But that is how I can remember this moment. If you come from the town I am from you will understand.
Milford is a medium sized city where sports are not really high on the priority list. So when something big happens, everyone remembers. For instance, when I remember the crowd going absolutely crazy and everyone jumping; that is all absolutely true.
There is the possibility that I was wrapped up in my elation in that moment that everything seemed overblown. I don’t doubt that this was the case, but I would rather have people enjoying themselves rather than being bored.
I would like to concentrate on the part when I zeroed in on the baseball. This moment really happened. I felt as if I was in the Matrix. Everything about that moment seemed to be in slow motion. I was so focused on that pitch that I was able to zero out everything around me.
This may sound like a superhuman ability, but this is not the only time when I have focused on something this hard. I was able to do this many more times in my baseball career. When I zero in on a pitch everything else means nothing. Everything else is nothing.
I can actually remember when I hit this ball. I can see exactly where the ball was when I started my swing. I can remember the moment after it left my bat. There is so much about that moment that I can recall that it scares me.
I chose this moment because it was the defining point of my team’s year. We rarely won and played horribly. Anything that could go wrong with a baseball team did. But at the moment I swung at that pitch, our team was special. We were the Milford International Little League Indians, the comeback kids. And I was Ian Youngs, the kid that hit a grand slam on a cloudy summer afternoon.
That one moment changed our team. For that moment in time we were the all-stars, the MVP’s of the Little League World. That is why this moment sticks out in my mind. I had changed the entire face of my little league team. I was the icon. I was the kid that hit the grand slam, the kid that achieved history.
Monday, September 8, 2008
4th Hour Blog
An appropriate question for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame is, “What doesn’t it offer?” Aside from the obvious answer, it contains many iconic pieces of history. From props in music videos, to guitars and drums, even to original records, the Hall of Fame is home to a great history of music.
But what is so great about Britney Spears’ outfit? And who was the genius that let The Backstreet Boys have an exhibit? These are not breakthrough artists! These are not bands that have reshaped the musical world. I mean is Nick Lachey really comparable to Michael Jackson? In any way I think not.
So what causes this rift in musical option? I completely recognize that opinions and tastes differ, and respect all of them. But what is it that makes the jacket from thriller more iconic than a stool that Madonna sat on? Why am I drawn to a saxophone played by Stephen Kupka of Tower of Power rather than the shoes of Elton John?
A fourth hour activity seems pivotal in discovering why this is. What is it about certain artists that people enjoy and that others despise? Just watching where people go first in the museum will be an adequate way to start off this experiment.
As for the other suggested activities, I am drawn to two of them; the Cavs game and the Museum of Art. These are maybe the two most different activities that could interest me, but they have really griped me into looking further into them.
A Cavs game would be easy to do. Looking into each decision that a player makes and seeing what his thought process might have been. Analyzing his approach and furthermore the result of his actions. Another thing that can be looked at is the “team approach”. How each team pulls off their respective plays, and how each team reacts to different strategies by the opponent could be explored further. And let’s not forget, all of these situations are all split second decisions, making incites and predictions hard to make.
The Art Museum was originally my least favorite. But after taking everything into account, I think it could be some fun. What makes something a luxury? I believe it is something that is rare and hard to attain. A leather chair, I mean a real leather chair, is a luxury. One that feels already broken in and makes you feel all warm and gooey inside. However I do not see a cell phone as a luxury. In the times that we live in a cell phone has become a necessity. Looking at all the objects and deciding whether or not they could benefit me would be a fun fourth hour activity to do.
I believe that no matter what, I would be able to find something interesting to do no matter what activity we pick.
That’s it. Signing out,
Phluph
But what is so great about Britney Spears’ outfit? And who was the genius that let The Backstreet Boys have an exhibit? These are not breakthrough artists! These are not bands that have reshaped the musical world. I mean is Nick Lachey really comparable to Michael Jackson? In any way I think not.
So what causes this rift in musical option? I completely recognize that opinions and tastes differ, and respect all of them. But what is it that makes the jacket from thriller more iconic than a stool that Madonna sat on? Why am I drawn to a saxophone played by Stephen Kupka of Tower of Power rather than the shoes of Elton John?
A fourth hour activity seems pivotal in discovering why this is. What is it about certain artists that people enjoy and that others despise? Just watching where people go first in the museum will be an adequate way to start off this experiment.
As for the other suggested activities, I am drawn to two of them; the Cavs game and the Museum of Art. These are maybe the two most different activities that could interest me, but they have really griped me into looking further into them.
A Cavs game would be easy to do. Looking into each decision that a player makes and seeing what his thought process might have been. Analyzing his approach and furthermore the result of his actions. Another thing that can be looked at is the “team approach”. How each team pulls off their respective plays, and how each team reacts to different strategies by the opponent could be explored further. And let’s not forget, all of these situations are all split second decisions, making incites and predictions hard to make.
The Art Museum was originally my least favorite. But after taking everything into account, I think it could be some fun. What makes something a luxury? I believe it is something that is rare and hard to attain. A leather chair, I mean a real leather chair, is a luxury. One that feels already broken in and makes you feel all warm and gooey inside. However I do not see a cell phone as a luxury. In the times that we live in a cell phone has become a necessity. Looking at all the objects and deciding whether or not they could benefit me would be a fun fourth hour activity to do.
I believe that no matter what, I would be able to find something interesting to do no matter what activity we pick.
That’s it. Signing out,
Phluph
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Blog 2
Since there was only one Sages class this week, there is not much to say. Since I showed up a bit late, due to a new schedule, I missed the first part of our discussion. But I was able to catch the end of the middle and end.
I won’t go into detail about the questions because I want to focus on the fourth hour activity. I heard some really interesting ideas. The Cinamatique seems really cool. Aside from watching film, I think it would be fun to look at the human psyche of the characters. Educationally, I think this will be the most stimulating activity. Movies can be interpreted in so many ways that we, as a class, can come up with many different ideas and opinions.
The activity I would want to do most is the major sporting event. Since Cleveland is a major sports city, it will be very simple to find an event to go to. Football is just starting up, and the Browns and Bengals will be playing. It will be quite easy to see how these teams fare this season. It will be fun to see how each person in our class will predict each team will fare (if that is what we want to do.)
No matter what we pick, I am sure that I will be able to make it fun for myself. I am looking forward to do this assignment. Signing out for now,
Phluph
I won’t go into detail about the questions because I want to focus on the fourth hour activity. I heard some really interesting ideas. The Cinamatique seems really cool. Aside from watching film, I think it would be fun to look at the human psyche of the characters. Educationally, I think this will be the most stimulating activity. Movies can be interpreted in so many ways that we, as a class, can come up with many different ideas and opinions.
The activity I would want to do most is the major sporting event. Since Cleveland is a major sports city, it will be very simple to find an event to go to. Football is just starting up, and the Browns and Bengals will be playing. It will be quite easy to see how these teams fare this season. It will be fun to see how each person in our class will predict each team will fare (if that is what we want to do.)
No matter what we pick, I am sure that I will be able to make it fun for myself. I am looking forward to do this assignment. Signing out for now,
Phluph
Monday, September 1, 2008
Blog 1
As this is the first post, I am not sure what I should write. Classes start and end, rehearsals begin and finish, not much went on. As Kurt Vonnegut put it, “So it goes.”
In Sages we went over our material for the year. It is pretty simple. From what I was able to discern, our class is going to do some work on how we think. Why is it that thinking fast and accurate is an essential tool? In class we brainstormed why this is in fact, a fact. When it comes to sports you need to have good reflexes and decision making skills in order to play well and help your team win. As a driver of a car you need this skill to weigh situation to not only save your life, but pedestrians as well. Having this quick snapshot mind is just so helpful.
However it can also be a terrible thing. When some people see an electrician or a plumber, they automatically assume that they are not smart, thus putting them on the lower rung of the social ladder. But a deeper look reveals why this is false. Is it not important for an electrician to install all wires properly to make sure that a house does not short circuit; or a plumber to make sure all pipes are secure to prevent a leak? Just because these people do not have a Ph.D. and a certificate on a wall doesn’t make them dumb.
If class this week has taught me anything, it is to be careful in my thoughts. Just because something looks shady doesn’t mean that it always is. I should refine my skills at discerning the facts, and look past what could stop me from being a better person.
Signing out,
Ian
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