Intro of Self

I come closer and closer each day to being the spitting image of my grandfather (I was raised by my grandparents after my parents divorced when I was four.) He is a natural storyteller, and he can find in his assortment of homespun tales and common sense parables the one that suits any situation imaginable. “There is something to learn with each challenge,” he would say to me when I felt that the pressure was too much and I could not withstand the strain. Alongside advice of this nature, he would and still does state that “A wise man learns not only from his own mistakes but from the mistakes of others.” He uses long pauses to build the dramatics and the solemnity, while adding side notes (tiny stories within the main story) to assist in the complete understanding of the idea that he is conveying through the tale. As a kid I hated his long, arid stories and his twisted, confusing parables; I--for most of the time--could not find the correlation between the present issue at hand and the wordy parable that he would choose to explain and express his view of it. However, age and responsibility have brought with them the full circle of understanding to my inferior, adolescent thoughts of the world at large.

His wisdom, which he tried relentlessly to instill in me, is coming to the surface little by little with the passing of each hazy day that flies on past me. I, being raised to revaluate the things I readily believed and being confident in myself to ask if I did not fully grasp the content presented to me, find the search for knowledge to be a rewarding quest. Richard P. Feynman, a mathematician and physicist, said that people are entertained when they learn even the smallest amount of information about something they did not know previously.

In my high school years in the Eastern Panhandle of West Virginia, I first began my love for the English language. Coach Bill Arnold, my 9th grade English teacher, was the first teacher to push me and open me up to the world of literature. He taught me how to diagram sentences, and thanks to him, I had a prom date that very year. Joe Vincell, my 12th grade Literature teacher, moved me from the timeless classics of the common man like Jack London and Ernest Hemingway to the true mastery of craftsmen like John Milton and William Shakespeare. He supported my writings and was willing assist me by sitting down with me to discuss any grammatical or stylistic problems that would arise. Mrs. Taylor, my English 101 teacher, was a pain. I do not mean she did not know the rules of the English language or was not friendly, but she knew exactly what students commonly missed on her first of four four page essays; however, she would not let the class know until she handed the essay back--all but two of the students failed it. The idea of setting up one’s students for absolute failure is repugnant in my view.

Blogging is something I just got into about six months ago, and I would use my site as a site to post my essays on any topic that my little heart dared. Within the several months that I have been blogging, I have researched any papers ranging from religion and the Constitution to racism and the Rebel flag to Jazz great Thelonious Monk and inventor Johann Gutenberg. I love reading; it can be tiresome but always enjoyable. I read two books at a time--one fiction, one non-fiction. Breaking them up gives me a weekly variety.

I am an English major with emphasis on writing; my aspirations are to fully round my grammatical and mechanical skills and improve my literary abilities. I am also double minoring in sociology and journalism; I have plans to go into print journalism for my master’s.


This is the first essay I had to turn in here at Marshall. I got it back today, and I got a 100% on it. It is a nice way to kick off my Marshall career. I think I should thank Mr. Joe Vincell and Coach Bill Arnold for their largesse--that is, for honoring me by sharing their time, patience, and knowledge--of the English language--to a young dull-witted student; however, my disapproval of Mrs. Taylor’s plebeian teaching methods still need some due gratitude. Knowing this is just my first Marshall grade, it may seem that I am overly excited, but I assure you I am not, it is only that I am pleased with the grade--I do not feel this is my best writing, but that is how life is.