Reflections

I learned that American culture is complicated. We have consumerism and materialism taunting shopping malls, hipsters setting a style that isn’t new, old people hating them for it, and poor people being shunned out of public space. These ideals were new to me but aren’t surprising. We grow accustomed to the way things are that we forget to analyze what’s happening in front of us so that we can understand these ideals more clearly. Through semiotics, I’ve learned that culture can be analyzed in anything and can help us understand the past, present, and future of cultures of the world.

100 Words

Through the Muddy Waters

I step in the murky water leaving my father and sister behind. As I walk, sticks and leaves latch on to me and follow me as I step further into the mush. Then it happens. Everyone goes. No horn. No gunshot. No indication that the event has started but I follow.

            The phone rings as I sit in my dorm room studying for finals before winter break. It’s my pops. He asks how things are going and eventually cuts to the chase. He tells me that he’s going to participate in a 4.4 mile swim spanning the Bay Bridge called the Bay Swim and asks if I want in. 4.4 miles, you done lost your mind! Alright, I’m in. I’m always up for new things and love the challenge.

            Now I’m getting kicked. Somebody’s ankle has left an imprint on my head. I have to look up every two seconds to make sure I’m going straight because Lord knows I zigzag. When I look up, I see these old geezers swimming past me. These bags of bones are smoking me! But I’m only focused on me. I’m not in it to win it, just to finish.  

            A quarter of a mile in and my shoulders start burning with each stroke. I expected this. It’s alright. As long as I keep this pace, the pain will go away. It’s dark; I can’t see anything. The bay is so dirty that there could be a neon dance party below me and I wouldn’t see it. I’m getting bored. Again, no scenery to look at, just blackness. Eventually, I finish. More like stumble across the line. Afterwards, I see my dad and sister and we all realize that we have dirt mustaches from the dirty water and laugh. That bay was a mess.

I find that trying new things always turns out to be rewarding in one way or another.

(300 words)

Making Fun of Living

I’ve debated my major for a while now. Coming into college, I boldly stated that I wanted to be a mechanical engineer. What I wanted to do after college, ha, that’s funny, you’re kidding right? I hid from the fact that the name of my major wasn’t the specific name of a job. I want to do something fun like design rollercoasters. I love rollercoasters so why not? This is where confliction meets me head on. I’ve recently found a field of study called Biomedical Engineering after helping build electrosurgery unit testers for an engineering project. These devices cut tissue in the body to prevent blood loss during surgery and were to be shipped to a third world country after completion. It was awesome to see that what I was building was going to help people in dire need. I’ve decided that’s the job I want to have, one that includes giving and helping to those who are less fortunate than me. I find that making a living should be more than making a paycheck. It shouldn’t be quick money that I earn to pay my bills and buy things I want. When I see the poverty of those living in third world countries, I realize that my own wealth means nothing. If I’m earning money and living for myself, I’m letting everyone around me suffer.  I want the term “making a living” to be redefined to mean doing what you want while making a difference and having fun.  When I’m ready to retire, if I didn’t make a difference somehow and have fun doing it then I didn’t do my job right.

I believe that making a living should be defined as the joy you create all through your life, whether it’s your own or someone else’s.

298 Words

Guns A' Blazing

My uncle’s property in Gettysburg encompasses an old Civil War battleground which is sacred to our nation’s history. While hunting on the land, my uncle has found rifle cartridges that have been linked to the Confederate army’s ammunition in the Battle of Gettysburg, the pivotal battle in the Civil War. After first encountering the property, one would first see an old, beat-up house. Past the Shrieking Shack is a vast amount of abandoned farmland and past that are the woods that I’ve hunted and drove ATVs in since birth. The property is filled with history, my history and the nation’s.

(100 Words)

Fender Mender

I walk in the quiet room ready to change its current state. I pick up the six-string and ring out the first note. The sound consumes me. A Fender guitar gives one of the nicest sounds I've heard. A year ago, I went to a local guitar shop and picked up a Fender Telecaster for the fun of it. I must have played for hours as I played all of the songs I learned on my crappy guitar on the Fender. The new sound gave me chills. I live for the sound, and a Fender allows me to do that. 

(100 words)

Do It Jersey Style

I grew up watching football with my dad. I loved to look up the statistics of every NFL player. With this excitement toward football, I decided to start wearing my favorite players’ jerseys. I can remember, during my early high school years, buying the largest size jersey and having the sleeves (intended to be short) hang over my skinny arms and stop just short of my hands. Looking back, the football players, or everyone for that matter, in my school probably thought I was the funniest looking kid. Oh, the troubles of a skinny kid in high school…
(98 words)

My Home is an Island?

My name is Andrew Kelley and I am a sophomore at UMBC. Home, to me, is a small town where I can walk into the local supermarket and say hello to at least ten people before I walk out. Home is a comforting place where I can take a bike ride to get to any point of interest. But more importantly, home is the place where I have access (due to my location on the water) to all of my hobbies which include swimming, fishing, and crabbing.  I call the small, yet sophisticated island called Kent Island my home.

 (99 words)