COML 596 Free Writing assignment
I used to play softball when I lived in Washington, DC. I looked forward to softball season every year, mostly because our team played many of its games on the National Mall. Being at the center of such an iconic part of American history was thrilling. Playing in the wilting heat and humidity was not as thrilling. Being young, we packed beers in inconspicuous ice chests to beat the heat. I was often the pitcher on my softball team. It wasn’t my favorite position, but I wasn’t bad at it, so they let me play. I was often intimidated when the big, strong men came up to bat. I was always worried that one of the brutes would hit the ball right at me, and I would take a “come-backer” on my leg or, worse, my face. One time a batted ball actually did hit me right on my shin. It was tremendously painful. But I stayed in the game, mostly because I wanted my teammates to be impressed with my toughness. I wasn’t much of a hitter, but I enjoyed hitting the ball as hard as I could. I could usually rope the ball over the second-baseman’s head and into the outfield for a hit. I liked being on base because I wanted to score and help the team win. But that meant that sometimes I would be required to “take one for the team” and slide into second or third base. In the moment I didn’t think about the condition of the playing field, but after sliding I quickly observed the rocky dirt and dry grass surrounding the base. I usually advanced bases safely, but it was a pyrrhic victory. Seemingly once a year I would slide into a base and stand up with a tremendously skinned knee. Sometimes the wound was deep; other times it was just a scrape. But it was always huge and always right at or below my right knee. And it always HURT. Being the tough guy I thought I was, I would shake it off and continue playing. But that night or the next day I would regret my decision to slide. Being called out would have hurt a lot less. Skinned knees came with the territory, and I came to expect to get at least one a year. That’s what happens when you give 110 percent.
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COML 596 Free Writing assignment
I don't like many things. I don’t like to eat olives. I don’t like going to the dentist. I don’t like the smell of chicken manure. I don’t like being stuck in traffic. I don’t like the state of modern political discourse. I don’t like it when my son is sad. I also don’t like it when things I like come to an end. Out of all the things I don’t like, waiting in line is at the top of the list. I consider myself to be a patient person, but I really, really don’t like to wait in line. Once I have to wait in a line, I become very impatient because most things are not worth waiting in line for. A hot new restaurant is not worth a 90-minute wait. Flying in the morning instead of the afternoon is not worth waiting in interminable airport security lines. Theme park rides, movie premieres, and art gallery openings may be fun and entertaining, but you won’t find me waiting in line for any of them. I don’t mind crowds; I like a crowded bar, sporting event, or concert. It’s enjoyable to be a part of something interesting and eventful. But the resulting lines that crowds create are the unfortunate price I have to pay for my participation in live events. When faced with a line I’m always zigging and zagging, angling for the shortest wait time. Sometimes my impatience and search for a shorter line results in a much longer wait than if I had patiently waited in the first line I encountered. When it comes to waiting in line, I have no patience. |