A Paddle in the River - Original Writing
Admittedly I was not expecting a stroll along picturesque canyon
scenery when the activity of gorge walking was announced, despite the
region's hilly nature, but neither had the prospect of preparing for
full blown assault down a river in its upper course occurred to me.
Snowdonia is abundant with water of all descriptions, from the mists
that drift across the mountain tops, to the waterfalls and rivers that
forge their way towards the coast. It is safe to declare that not one
part of this activity included walking; wading, staggering, stumbling,
even plummeting maybe, but definitely not walking. From the moment the
coach set off from base camp, and parked on a dusty cobbled road, I
was awaiting the activity with anticipation. Then, to my shock,
following the inquisitive cries from surrounding pupils, the
instructor bluntly likened the activity to a, 'dip in a pond'.
A wetsuit has always been an item of clothing designed for
reassurance. Whether it be surfing in the Pacific, or even paddling
off the coast of Scotland, a wetsuit is made to protect you from
bitter waters. Strangely however, the suits flung on a trailer which
we were told to wriggle ourselves into left me feeling helplessly
exposed. The fluorescent orange shoulder patches were in tatters, and
the zips on your back jammed and in some cases were non-existent. In
tandem with the mild yet prominent sewerage stench, I was beginning to
feel uncomfortable. After grabbing a helmet capable of fitting, and
struggling to put on a life jacket, we began an ungainly stagger up to
the start of our activity. The ascent proved a challenge, the ...
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...sed my
numb arm and wiped a bead of sweat from my brow, before loosening my
collar. Suddenly my life jacket became a worthless chunk of yellow
padding. A cheerful Mr Allen below, perching on a boulder, did little
to boost my confidence. Hell's demons were playing cunning tricks on
my mind: Is the plunge pool deeper enough? Are you certain you will
not scrape your back on the side of the rock face? I was superman, as
I teetered nervously off the edge and plunged down. All I could see
was a blur of rich green leaves, jagged rocks, and finally Mr Allen's
freckled face before I was consumed by the effervescent potion.
As I plodded slowly back to the coach I had time to reflect. There was
no doubt that the activity has been unusual and exhilarating and,
after one sniff, I could safely say it had been a, "dip in the pond".
Life can sometime bring unwanted events that individuals might not be willing to face it. This was the conflict of O’Brien in the story, “On The Rainy River”. As the author and the character O’Brien describes his experiences about the draft to the Vietnam War. He face the conflict of whether he must or must not go to the war, in this moment O’Brien thinking that he is so good for war, and that he should not be lost in that way. He also show that he disagree with the consbet of the war, how killing people will benefit the country. In addition O’Brien was terrifying of the idea of leaving his family, friends, and everything that he has done in the past years.
than I had hoped. I decided to venture, as I called it; on a long and hopefully
“Two roads diverged in a wood and I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.” At some point in life one is faced with a decision which will define the future, but only time will tell whether or not the choice was right or wrong. The Boat by Alistair MacLeod demonstrates that an individual should make their own decisions in life, be open to new experiences and changes, and that there is no way to obtain something, without sacrificing something else.
The relationship you have with others often has a direct effect on the basis of your very own personal identity. In the essay "On The Rainy River," the author Tim O'Brien tells about his experiences and how his relationship with a single person had effected his life so dramatically. It is hard for anyone to rely fully on their own personal experiences when there are so many other people out there with different experiences of their own. Sometimes it take the experiences and knowledge of others to help you learn and build from them to help form your own personal identity. In the essay, O'Brien speaks about his experiences with a man by the name of Elroy Berdahl, the owner of the fishing lodge that O'Brien stays at while on how journey to find himself. The experiences O'Brien has while there helps him to open his mind and realize what his true personal identity was. It gives you a sense than our own personal identities are built on the relationships we have with others. There are many influence out there such as our family and friends. Sometimes even groups of people such as others of our nationality and religion have a space in building our personal identities.
I closed my eyes as I was looking about to the pond. I wanted to remember this image so I could think back when
I froze. I had forgotten about the dance and now was uncertain about whether I was going or not. "Yeah, probably," I answered. She nodded and we discussed other things, but my mind never wandered away from the question she had posed. Suddenly, the bus appeared and I climbed on and took a seat in the front. I needed some time to think.
Have you ever dreamt of your dream house? Have you ever wanted to invest in the stock market? Have you ever dreamt of winning a large sum of money in a short time? If so, I strongly advise you to read the short story ‘Paper’. In the story, Tay Soon and his wife dreamt of owning a big house so they tried their best to collect their money to buy it. As the stock market was growing interest at that time, they decided to invest some money in the market so as to pay their house. Luckily, they won the money for their house in the market. However, they were so greedy that they continued investing in the market. The market crash came and they lost all their money. Because Tay Soon could not accept it, he went mad. Finally, the madness drove him to death and his mother decided to build a paper house which he had dreamt before. In ‘Paper’, Catherine Lim uses irony to admonish people not to be greedy; otherwise, a person may lose his life and family.
Have you ever thought that it is not the dreams you possess that form your path in life, but the influence of the people with whom you surround yourself? The author of “The Boat” composed a theme to the story to relay the message that you should not let the opinions of others have a controlling influence on your decisions in life. There are many narrative techniques that this author used to communicate the theme of this story. Three of these specific and effective techniques are: narration in first person; past and present tense narration; and repetitive narration. Each of these techniques contributes to the effective communication of the theme.
My writing as a poet has been heavily influenced by writers like Langston Hughes, Nikki Giovanni, Alice Walker and Slam poets such as Black Thought and the Last Poets. These writers write and speak about the struggles and uniqueness of Black culture. Their individual experiences and political stances as well as the influences of other artist are evident in their work. For example in Giovanni’s poem “Revolutionary Music” she quotes some of the lyrics from Sam Cooke and James Brown to illustrate her personal views on racism and the equal rights movements. Hughes in his piece titled “Message to the President” skillfully incorporates the political events of his time into his poem using it to sardonically articulate his view on racial inequalities that were occurring in his time. Black Thought and the Last Poets utilize jazz and urban hip hop along with their idea of Black to relay their message.
jumping, pushing and head-banging. In all this chaos I suddenly felt out of breath, we all clambered out of the pit and onto the steps. One of my friends kept asking me if I was OK and I said that I felt really out of breath and had a sharp pain in my chest. We came to the conclusion that I had probably cracked a rib.
So, I had went pass Children’s Fairyland, crossed the gardens of Lake Merritt, and walked the small path in all joyfulness through the oak trees and daisi...
see ten metres in any direction but I knew that I had to venture on to
for the rest of my life. For I am a neglecter of the love that was in
I wandered around the path near the lake because it was always peaceful and quiet there in the morning and the trees that hung over the wide walkway only drew me in more. The cool wind blew continuously, and some of the leaves that barely hung on to the branches were pulled along with it. They floated while dropping slowly, and one of the leaves chose my head as a landing spot. I brushed my hair with my hand, not caring if doing so messes up my hair, since the wind already accomplished that job the second I took a step outside my house.
In the distance, the trail along which I had been walking wound through a thick velvet fog. Lining the path were tall trees that stoo...