Argumentative Paper

Batman is, by far, the greatest superhero of all time.  While some may argue that superheroes such as Superman or Spiderman are the best superheroes of all time, they must take into account three essential reasons.  First, Batman does not have any “special powers” like most other superheroes; second, his alter-ego, Bruce Wayne, is a well-respected philanthropist in his spare time; and third, he is the only superhero portrayed by an Academy Award-winning actor, Christian Bale.  With these claims, it is easy to assume that Batman is the best superhero of all time.

            Batman, unlike most other superheroes, does not have any “special powers” like, for example, Superman or Spiderman.  This makes Batman just like anyone else – only that he is a crime-fighting superhero who uses his human skills to combat the evil forces that Gotham City possesses.  Unlike Superman, who is “the man of steel,” or Spiderman, who was bit by a spider and has the senses and skills of a spider, Batman is forced only to use his wit and human strength.  In his scholarly journal, for the Johns Hopkins University Press, E. Paul Zehr comments on Batman’s lack of supernatural powers:

Possessing no supernatural powers, Batman is the most realistic of all the superheroes. His feats are achieved through rigorous training and mental discipline, and with the aid of fantastic gadgets. (p. 6)

This makes Batman easily relatable to anyone who is a fan of him.

            While he is very well-respected by his fans, he is also the alter-ego of Bruce Wayne, a well-mannered philanthropist in the fictional setting of Gotham City.  With his rich status, Bruce Wayne is able to maintain his status as a wealthy bachelor who uses his free time to contribute to charities and help the city he lives in by fighting the evil that the city possesses.

            Batman is also one of the only superheroes to have been portrayed in a feature film by an Academy Award-winning actor.  This only adds to the claim that Batman one of the most revered and prolific superheroes of all time.  In having such an astounding actor like Christian Bale portray him, Batman clearly shows why he is the best superhero of all time.

            In turn, Batman is clearly the best superhero of all time.  Superman and Spiderman, although close a close second and third, do not match up to Batman in any sense of the word.  Although people will always argue this claim, the evidence suggests otherwise.

Works Cited

Zehr, E. Paul.  Becoming Batman:  The Possibility of a Superhero.  Baltimore,            Maryland: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2008.  Print.

The Times Are-a Changin'

Tuesday night, after class, I went home for the first time in quite some time.  Though a short break, the Thanksgiving vacation has always been one I would consider to be a sweet one – something I always looked forward to.  Throughout my undergraduate years, the routine would be rather simple:  Go home and see some people I haven’t seen for quite some time, eat tons of food, and take a break before the rush of finals took its toll on me.

Well, this vacation was surely that – to an extent. I did notice something that was a bit different.  Throughout the years, less and less people go home for Thanksgiving break for one reason or another.  Some people have jobs; others have a significant other that they met in college and spend the break with them elsewhere; and, as each year went on, I noticed that we all would make less of an attempt to see one another.  I guess this comes with age and “growing up,” however, as a graduate student, I guess this is the first year I truly realized how different things really are.

While Adelphi’s five-year STEP is a great program for attaining a master’s degree one year earlier than most people would, it definitely is a “step” out of reality for those in it. Technically, we go to school for five years in pursuit of a certification that would usually take six years.  In reality, however, it seems as if we use that fifth year to stall the reality that is life by still maintaining the same breaks as a regular college student, even having many of the same professors we did during our undergraduate years.

I guess that one argument people would use is that, as teachers, we are going to have very similar breaks as those who are in college.  However, what I realized this year is that the majority of those whom I used to spend Thanksgiving breaks with don’t quite have the same time off that we, as teachers will.

Am I saying I won’t/do love the time off? Of course I do.  Anyone who is anyone should love time off where they can gather their thoughts and prepare for the various other aspects of their life.  I guess I’m just sad to be “growing up” knowing that, while I delayed this phenomenon for one more year, I will probably be building my career and life elsewhere without the comfort of Thanksgiving break – and this concept of “home” before the stress that is finals -- to always remain the same.

Response to Michael’s creative writing tip #4: Never trust your memory

Ah, Michael…your creative tips have truly been enjoyable to read, especially the latest one: Never trust your memory.  I believe that, as writers, there are many times that we all choose to take our ideas, whether it be creative or analytical, and save those ideas for later.  And it is true – to an extent.  Too many times we do find ourselves searching for that thought that we had once before, unable to remember exactly what “brilliant” concept may have risen.

I also do believe that this comes typically when creating a piece that requires creativity beyond a certain realm of fluidity necessary to the creative piece’s words.  While, certainly, some of this rings true for the analytical writers who may try to rationalize or question the certain motives of an author, I do believe that developing a certain proposal to defend an argument or standpoint requires thinking that is not necessarily something that needs to be remembered at a certain moment, but should be thought about over time. 

In my opinion, this way of thinking takes time that is needed in order to construct these viewpoints.  While it may be beneficial to write down the thoughts that enter our minds at a specific moment (when thinking creatively), I believe that the other (thinking analytically) may not require being “written down” right away.

The English Language Arts CST (Yikes...)

Given the ability to choose freely about exactly what to post on this blog is something I do appreciate, especially after the New York State English Language Arts CST I took this past weekend…

I can’t say that I’m the greatest English student to ever graduate out of Adelphi.  I didn’t win any special awards, and I surely lack creativity that makes one a creative writer.  But, in all honesty, I did well.  I graduated with honors in my major and really feel like I had the pleasure of learning everything I could from all of the professors from the English department at Adelphi.

So, I didn’t do too much preparation for this exam.  I purchased the book and basically did all of the practice questions.  To say that I did well on these practice questions would be a stretch, but I still took the time to look up key words and phrases that I didn’t know.  With that, I’d say I spent some time reviewing.  Maybe not enough, but I didn’t go into the exam blindly, not knowing what to expect.

Still, I found myself struggling at points in the exam.  While some questions were fair, others came down to one choice or another (and by others, I mean most of them).  The test was, for the most part, evaluating skills that left me confused, bitter, and tired by the end.  I know I am not the only person who feels this way.  But by the end of the test, I was ready to log onto the website and sign up for another…

While the essay seemed so easy that I thought they mistakenly gave me the wrong exam, the multiple choice part of the exam still left me concerned.  I really hope I passed.  Considering that this is my first time taking it, I won’t be too upset if I didn’t pass, but I do know that I do not want to sit through another three hours taking an exam where I lack confidence for every answer I fill in.  The test was brutal, and I will defend that side of the argument to anyone who wants to challenge it. 

I guess, at this point, I’ve accepted that I may not pass.  The good news is that I can take the exam as many times as needed in order to get that passing grade, so I may just use this experience as a practice test if I don’t pass this time around (which, if you didn’t get the clue already, it means that this time was definitely a time of practice).

Tap. Tap. Tap...

The sound came from inside the closet.  Quietly, I crept toward the door.  But first, I knew I needed to protect myself if it was what I thought it was.

Why would my parents decide to go out to dinner on Halloween night? I’m only 11 years old.  I knew that convincing them that it was okay to go out tonight without me was surely not a good idea.  I realized that there was no time to cry about it now.  I convinced them that I was old enough to stay home alone.  Besides, if I was the one who saved our house from the beast, I knew my parents would handsomely reward me. 

So, with this knowledge, I crept towards the kitchen, not wanting to disrupt the thing in the closet.  I looked around, frantically searching for anything to protect myself.  Across the kitchen, to the left, I noticed the knife I had been dicing carrots with before.  It was roughly at a 45 degree angle, partially inched over the lower-left part of the stove.  Seeing the knife, I slid my way across the tiled floor in my socks, knowing that it would lessen any noise I was sure to make. 

The beast shrieked again. 

I knew that the beast was going to make its move any minute, so I had to make my way over to the closet quickly.  Slower than a mouse, I made my way over to the door.  Holding the knife in my right hand, I motioned my left hand over to the doorknob, still a few steps away. 

It’s now or never.

Inching my hand over to the doorknob, I began to open the door.  It was time to unlock it.  Not wanting to look in what would be the beast’s eye level, I watched my index and middle fingers come together, turning the lock to the right.

With nothing but fear, the door swung its way towards me.  Interestingly, the inside of the closet no longer existed.  The room, which once contained winter coats, scarves, blankets, and shoes, was now a glowing white light that seemed inviting.  Dropping the knife on the floor, I took my first step into the closet.     

My journey was about to begin.

Expecting the Unexpected: My Pre-Halloween Weekend

Hello again, all.

Happy early Halloween.  Friday and Saturday nights must have been an interesting one for countless people, quite possibly an extremely fun time for some.  My weekend was worthy of note, but not anything quite “Halloween” – like.

This past weekend, I went out east, back home out to the east end of Long Island.  I actually didn’t really have a choice in the matter, being that I had to get home to work at my family’s restaurant since both of my parents are overseas enjoying themselves for their anniversary.  Since my uncle was alone, I was asked to help out Saturday night, but went out Friday to tend to small errands I had to accomplish before the weekend came.

With that, I made my way over to the restaurant/pizza parlor that has become such an important part of who I am.  To give a brief history, in 1971, my grandfather opened the business after bringing his family over the year before from Palermo, Sicily.  In 1989, I was born. Being part of a family business has ultimately shaped much of my personality to date, considering I’ve worked there since before I can remember.  So, when asked to help out, I do.  Even when I am not asked to help, I do anyway.  It’s part of a life I’ve tried to avoid, yet still continue to accept because of the pride I take in knowing the business has such a long, rich history of family tradition.

Though the schedule tries to remain as consistently correct as possible, it never quite happens that way.  I was actually only scheduled to work Saturday night, not Friday.  Considering my friend Mike works there, I went in around 5:00 on Friday night to give a quick hello before the dinner rush came in.  Little did I know that, by 5:15, I was tied my apron on and was opening clams for Linguini White Clam sauce and preparing countless orders of Eggplant Parmigiana.   The dining room was filling up, and I happened to be the only person in the kitchen other than the dishwasher. Because my eldest brother, a Social Studies teacher in Brooklyn, had parent/teacher conferences and was stuck in traffic with no way of getting to the store before the rush hit. 

Eventually, my brother came to save me.  By 9:15, the last table left, and I was just starting to mix the pizza dough.  For the next hour, we were cutting the dough balls to the perfect weight and rolling each one up to the perfect ball.  After cutting and rolling approximately 120 balls of dough, I cleaned up a bit, went home, showered, and put on my mask: Michelangelo from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (it was actually a cheap imitation of a mask that I basically threw together at the last minute.  Give me a break, I unexpectedly worked all night).  Then, I went out with some friends and enjoyed the Friday before Halloween.

Not a bad weekend, if I say so myself.  Was it unexpected?  Of course.  But life seems to be that way, so I’ve learned to stay prepared to put on my apron whenever my name gets called.

A Close Call - Creative Writing Piece

The streets of Cairo were engulfed in chaos.  Abasi, a strong, and determined young man, wearing tarnished clothes that had not been washed in days, charged the streets with fellow protesters for the fifth day in a row.  Abasi met friends early in the morning to discuss their plans of rebellion for the day over a hearty meal of fava beans, tomatoes and pita bread.  However, a sudden feeling struck Abasi causing him to abandon his companions at breakfast with no explanation.

            Alone and on foot, Abasi entered the dangerous streets of Cairo.  He passed several houses with boarded up windows and doors to prevent more looting from occurring, while cars and buildings were still smoking from the rampage of the previous night.  Everything was shut down.  Functioning restaurants, homes, shops, and rest areas seemed to only be a memory.  Cairo: a city known for its cultural life including beautiful Islamic architecture was beginning to look about as attractive as a broken toilet.  A true cesspool of outrage. 

            Still alone floating around the streets, Abasi began to fear for his wellbeing.  He had an uneasy feeling in his stomach, as if something horrible would soon happen if he did not act immediately.  Determined to change his current mood, Abasi continued forward on his mysterious journey.

            Abasi then saw his neighbor Archna on the sidewalk passing by.  Archna was slightly younger than him, but he had always thought she was a very cute girl, whom he predicted would one day turn into a beautiful woman.  Abasi briefly greeted Archna with a smile, but after shortly realizing he had no time to stop and chat he continued walking.  After a few more blocks of drifting, Abasi noticed Archna had been following him.  “I can’t hang out right now Archna,” shouted Abasi.  Though he seemed dismissive, the lovely young lady remained in his proximity.

            The streets painted with skid marks reeked of burnt rubber and turmoil.  Abasi felt as if he was about to explode like the many buildings in the city’s warzone.  “Abasi!” shouted a tender voice.  It was Archna, this time only a few feet behind the young man.  “I don’t think you should be alone, the police will mistake you for a looter.”  Archna’s concern made Abasi want to compliment her on her beauty, but he held back.  “I’ll be fine on my own, you’re the one who shouldn’t be alone in this part of town,” replied Abasi with a skirmish look on his face as if he had been looking directly at the sun.   “Where is it that you’re going in such a hurry?  My parents said everyone in our neighborhood was supposed to meet by the mosque at noon.  Why don’t you come with me?” asked Archna.  Her eyes, which to him seemed deeper than the Nile, caught his attention.  He could feel her look judging him as if she knew exactly what was wrong.  He had to go.  “I have to go, I’ll meet up with everyone later..I just have to go now!” shouted Abasi.  Archna’s eyebrows crinkled in curiosity.  “Okay, well, I guess I’ll see you later,” she shortly replied.  She then quickly turned around and marched in the opposite direction. 

            Abasi was now almost running through the disastrous city.  His legs were stiff and straight, similar to the walking motion of the Frankenstein monster.  Weaving in and out of tanks and army vehicles Abasi began to think about Archna.  Perhaps he was rude to her, but it was for her own good.  He had to be alone right now.  He had to keep moving.  He would apologize to her later, and perhaps comment on her beauty.  The thought of her allure reminded him of how Cairo was once a physically admirable place.  Such a thought     temporarily relieved Abasi of the agitated sensation he felt deep inside him.  However, the sounds of gunshots in the distance quickly stole any feelings of composure away from him. 

            Abasi began running at full speed.  He had almost made it to his goal.  It was in sight, but the faster he ran the further it appeared.  Each step seemed an eternity.  Abasi’s toes began to curl and his forheard started to perspire profusely.  His palms sweating with his pulse exploding Abasi felt ill.  Doubts began to enter his mind, and he considered abandoning his mission.  His vision became cloudy as he felt no control over himself.  He was so close.  The pain would soon be gone.  The end of his suffering was becoming more and more familiar.  Abasi began to think of his parents- he wanted them to help him.  Just as his agony peaked to a place he had never experienced, Abasi loosened his belt.

The sounds of terror echoed the walls of the public restroom as Abasi let out a serious fudge dragon.  The dookie appeared to be larger than King Tut’s tomb.  Abasi’s suffering had finally vanished.  He then promised himself never to eat fava beans for two days straight ever again.  Now that his internal struggle had been conquered he was able to pursue his participation in the revolution.  He would go on to join his fellow rebels to flush away the oppressive ways of Mubarak, and perhaps have a go at the relationship he could now confidently spark with Archna.  

Finding a Way to Deal...

Hello again, everyone…feels good to be back to a free-write.  These last couple of weeks have been pretty eventful.  I guess I’ll use this blog as a little vent session to make up for it.

In my first blog, I gave a brief history of the NBA Lockout and how it has affected my life.  Well, something pretty awful happened.  NBA commissioner David Stern announced the cancellation of the first two weeks of the NBA season.  There hasn’t really much else to say about that.

However, something pretty awesome happened.  Both the NBA TV and MSG networks have been playing classic NBA games from the early ‘90s (since it is considered illegal to play any games that contain any NBA players that are currently playing in the league because the lockout disallows it). 

There are a few ways of reacting to this.  While, on one hand, I am saddened that training camp hasn’t begun on time and the first two weeks are cancelled, I am happy to see that these networks are playing classic games from a time period that ultimately made me a fan.  The gritty-ness that these players displayed (before absurd player and TV contracts came into play) reminded me of why I became an obsessed fan. 

During this time, the league displayed players who placed commitment above all.  Their physical and mental makeup was designed around a team concept rather than any individual accolades.  These players would never pull a Lebron James and decide to join the “enemy.”  They remained committed to their cities, striving to give that city a time to remember through sports.

Leaving your respective cities, unless you were traded, was basically unheard of.  Players based their contracts around the success of their team, relating their contracts to other players on their team because they ultimately wanted to win in the city that they played in.  Were they still making millions of dollars?  Of course!  This is America, where famous people rule just about everything.  These players, though, gave their fans a different feel. 

So, while the league continues this absurd lockout, I’ve found a way to get my basketball fix.  I hope that, through this process, today’s players realize just how awesome that time was for basketball fans.  Maybe they can learn a thing or two.

Critical Lens Essay (Revised)

“Art is the lie that makes us realize the truth.”

Pablo Picasso

According to Pablo Picasso, “Art is the lie that makes us realize truth.”  In other words, all forms of art, including novels and plays, show us an ever-present reality that are ably seen through a work of art.  This is shown to be true in The Things They Carried, written by Tim O’Brien, where the author uses his experience in the Vietnam War to create fictional stories that craftily describes the feelings of war. This is also evident in the play, Death of a Salesman, written by Arthur Miller, where he skillfully uses his fictional play as a way to depict the lives of certain characters in postwar 1950’s America.  Both stories inherently portray usages of tone through their stories to help their audience see how art reveals truth through their works of art.

            In his fictional novel, The Things They Carried, Tim O’Brien creates many different war stories during the Vietnam War.  While Tim O’Brien clarifies that he was in the Vietnam War, he creates these stories as a form of art to dexterously describe a soldier’s feelings during the war.  For example, in one chapter titled “The Man I Killed,” the author artfully describes the story about the Vietnamese soldier he killed.  In doing this, he describes the most intricate details, describing the soldier as a “dainty young man (p. 118).”  In the process, though, O’Brien later writes, “I want you to feel what I felt.  I want you to know why story-truth is truer than happening-truth” (p. 171).  Tone is represented here in a dreary state.  This allows the reader to experience something that may or may not have really happened.  While he admits to the story being a “lie,” he uses his words to make the reader feel this “truth” that often comes from the art of story telling. 

            Similarly, in Death of a Salesman, Arthur Miller uses his fictional play to create a critique of 1950’s America. Willy Loman, the play’s main character, has a belief that someone who is “well liked” equates to success in the world.  He says, “The man who makes an appearance in the business world, the man who creates personal interest, is the man who gets ahead. Be liked and you will never want” (Act I).  However, as the play goes on, Willy begins to realize that happiness is something that one cannot attain simply through being “well-liked.” In this scene, the tone seems hopeful, but not quite believable.  Willy’s tone seems to be something that he does not necessarily believe, but he has used it in hopes of “getting ahead.” Ultimately, Willy kills himself by the end of the play, tragically unable to “get ahead.” Through his artful techniques, Arthur Miller reveals a character that lives by a concept that leaves him upset with the state of his life.  Being “liked” never helped Willy become successful; it only led to his demise. 

            Although two very different stories, both Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried and Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman reveal truth through clever techniques.  In The Things They Carried, the author uses creative language in his novel to portray gruesome events of a war.  In using the creative technique of describing a war that he was a part of, he ably describes events using his story-telling abilities to craft feelings of a soldier in the war.  Like Tim O’Brien, Arthur Miller uses his play to create characters that are affected by their surrounding world.  In his wonderful ability to create characters that define a time period, Miller allows his creative ability to resonate through his playwriting, a technique that ably defines truth through a fictional play.   

            “Art is the lie that makes us realize truth.”  In Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried, truth is realized through O’Brien’s war experience, especially his experience of “the man he killed,” is well described through his ability to describe a story that didn’t necessarily happen to him, but probably happened to a soldier in the war.  In Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman, Miller writes of a character who slowly realizes how his philosophy that someone who is “well liked” is one who succeeds fails him, leading to his demise.  In the process, both stories use tone as a form of enhancing Picasso’s quote.  In the postwar state that America was in, Miller evokes a tragic character in search of deeper meaning in his life.  Both works of art, although quite different, portray art as a form of truth through the authors’ skilled ways of doing so.

The Five Paragraph Essay (Yikes)

“Art is the lie that makes us realize the truth.”

Pablo Picasso

            According to Pablo Picasso, “Art is the lie that makes us realize truth.”  In other words, all forms of art, including novels and plays, show us an ever-present reality that are ably seen through a work of art.  This is shown to be true in The Things They Carried, written by Tim O’Brien, where the author uses his experience in the Vietnam War to create fictional stories that craftily describes the feelings of war.  This is also evident in the play, Death of a Salesman, written by Arthur Miller, where he skillfully uses his fictional play as a way to depict the lives of certain characters in postwar 1950’s America.

            In his fictional novel, The Things They Carried, Tim O’Brien creates many different war stories during the Vietnam War.  While Tim O’Brien clarifies that he was in the Vietnam War, he creates these stories as a form of art to dexterously describe a soldier’s feelings during the war.  For example, in one chapter titled “The Man I Killed,” the author artfully describes the story about the Vietnamese soldier he killed.  In doing this, he describes the most intricate details, describing the soldier as a “dainty young man” (p. 118).  In the process, though, O’Brien later writes, “I want you to feel what I felt.  I want you to know why story-truth is truer than happening-truth” (p. 171).  While he admits to the story being a “lie,” he uses his words to make the reader feel this “truth” that often comes from the art of story telling. 

            Similarly, in Death of a Salesman, Arthur Miller uses his fictional play to create a critique of 1950’s America. Willy Loman, the play’s main character, has a belief that someone who is “well liked” means that they are a successful person in the world.  Her says, “The man who makes an appearance in the business world, the man who creates personal interest, is the man who gets ahead. Be liked and you will never want” (Act I).

However, as the play goes on, Willy begins to realize that happiness is something that one cannot attain simply through being “well-liked.” Ultimately, Willy kills himself by the end of the play, tragically unable to “get ahead.” Through his artful techniques, Arthur Miller reveals a character that lives by a concept that u leaves him upset with the state of his life.  Being “liked” never helped Willy become successful; it only led to his demise.

            Although two very different stories, both Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried and Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman reveal truth through clever techniques.  In The Things They Carried, the author uses creative language in his novel to portray gruesome events of a war.  In using the creative technique of describing a war that he was a part of, he ably describes events using his story-telling abilities to craft feelings of a soldier in the war.  Like Tim O’Brien, Arthur Miller uses his play to create characters that are affected by their surrounding world.  In his wonderful ability to create characters that define a time period, Miller allows his creative ability to resonate through his playwriting, a technique that ably defines truth through a fictional play.   

            “Art is the lie that makes us realize truth.”  In Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried, truth is realized through O’Brien’s war experience, especially his experience of “the man he killed,” is well described through his ability to describe a story that didn’t necessarily happen to him, but probably happened to a soldier in the war.  In Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman, Miller writes of a character who slowly realizes how his philosophy that someone who is “well liked” is one who succeeds fails him, leading to his demise.  In the postwar state that America was in, Miller evokes a tragic character in search of deeper meaning in his life.  Both works of art, although quite different, portray art as a form of truth through the authors’ skilled ways of doing so.

To Write Or Not to Write

Hello again, all.

Tomorrow, my eldest brother is renewing his vows with his “soul mate.”  Although they married one another last year in a small ceremony, they decided to have a huge party with about 120 of their closest friends and family and have the wedding they felt was long overdue.

While I’m all about drinking and having a good time, I’m not too keen on being surrounded by people I have no interest in seeing or talking to for six hours.  I get through it with no problem, and usually come out of the whole experience avoiding any fake conversations, but I tend to make it the best experience I can.

With that, I’ve been asked to give a speech at my brother’s vow renewal.  This should be something that I plan beforehand so that I won’t make a fool of myself and just drunkenly rant about love’s ultimate meaning and how marriage culminates all of that and blah blah blah, right?

Well, it looks like I’m going to let the alcohol speak for itself. I’m not sure why, but I guess I feel like it’s more natural to speak when there isn’t a piece of paper in front of my face. What I want to tell them, though, will probably go something like this:

“I understand there are many in search of wicked adventures (and don’t get me wrong, I’m always down for some fun), but I think that we also all search for a form of contentment within ourselves that we can implement into our daily lives.  I guess this happiness has a way of finding itself through our growth as human beings living in this ever-changing world – a transformation that we all hope to share with someone else in our lives.

Anton Chekhov once said, ‘Perhaps the feelings that we experience when we are in love represent a normal state. Being in love shows a person who he should be.’  I believe that our journey is illuminated by the gratification that life has when we meet that special person.  Besides for the fact that I believe you two have found this, I am hopeful that everyone in the room can experience that. It’s a special feeling.  Cheers, all.”

Wow, maybe this blog helped me write my speech.  Maybe I’ll just drunkenly rant.  I guess we'll just have to see where the scotch takes me.

A "Real" Beginning

Recently, I took the time to read blogs of the other students in a graduate course of mine.  While most students chose to introduce their blog with a proper introduction, I realized how selfish I was by not introducing myself to every kind soul who takes the time to read this little blog of mine.  So first, let me write that I’m sorry about that.  Second, here goes:

To all you bloggers who care to know, my name is Alexander (Alex works just fine, though I tend to sign all of my papers as Alexander rather than Alex, a minor itch that I still can't seem to comprehend). I tend to have many of these little itches that I try and tolerate, mainly because of my need to have things work a certain way.

Making decisions has never been a strong suit of mine.  Growing up in a small town on the east end of Long Island, I had a tough time trying to figure out my “future.”  I think that, at that crossroad between high school and making a decision regarding what college we want to attend, we often times struggle to make any decision about our future on our own.  In doing this, I believe that we tend to make decisions that our parents would make rather than decisions that we actually want to make.

So, with that, I began my college career at Manhattan College in August of 2007 with a plan to graduate with a degree in Accounting by May of 2011.  Thankfully, I did graduate on time in the May of 2011.  However, my graduation robe had Adelphi University written on it, and my degree was in English Literature with a minor in Secondary Education.  Talk about opposites, eh?

During that experience, I both made and maintained friendships that have surely shaped much of myself today.  And, in that process, I was able to both keep and maintain passions of mine that have grown to new proportions in the process.

While my love of literature has always seemed to be an important part of me, it was only until college that I realized that I could make a career out of reading books. Pretty cool, right?  With some of the most professional beings I have ever met, Adelphi’s Professors enlightened my love for literature unlike anything I’d ever experienced, enhancing my love for thinking analytically just that much more.

Also, I was able to maintain my love for basketball as well (remember the first blog?!).  A perk of going to such a small university, I was able to be in charge of Adelphi University’s Club Basketball team as both the President and Head Coach.  During this process, I developed the knowledge of creating plays, running practice, and traveling to schools all over the east coast United States.  An experience I am ever-grateful for, I still maintain a close relationship with the new President and Vice-President, keeping the game close to myself as a mental escape.

With that, I have revealed some things about me with the hopes that you may get to know me a bit better.  My intentions for this blog seem to be a venting session, although that could change throughout this exciting process.  Ciao, all.

Locking Out: Football Begins With a Bang While Another Lockout’s Future Awaits

Roughly three weeks ago, fans all over the country were questioning if the NFL Lockout would end, leaving millions to wonder how they were going spend their Sunday afternoons without their beloved football to enjoy with friends, family, and a whole lot of beer.

This past Thursday, The National Football League (NFL) gave their fans a reason to rejoice, kicking off their season with a thrilling opener with two of the game’s best teams. In an exhilarating game that went back and forth from the very start, the defending Super Bowl Champion Green Pay Packers secured their first victory of the season with a goal line stance against the Super Bowl XLIV Champion New Orleans Saints, 42-34.  While Saints fans may have left the game upset that their precious team from New Orleans may have let one slip away, fans all over the nation exulted knowing that football was back.

Some 1,000 miles away from Green Bay, Wisconsin, as football fans began their celebrations of a new season in tact, players, owners, and executives of the National Basketball Association (NBA) met in New York City to discuss labor negotiations.  While the NBA’s owners have locked out their players since July 1^st, little progress has been made, making the chances of the NBA season beginning on time rather doubtful.

Though lockouts are often times rather confusing, the owners’ lockout on their players mostly comes down to financial disagreements.  As the old collective bargaining agreement expired, owners of NBA franchises had complained that they have lost, in total, roughly $400 million this past year alone.  However, the players have countered that, declaring that the league is only setting records with ticket sales and revenue, and that only few small market teams, if any, are losing money. 

In the old collective bargaining agreement, the owners claim that the salary’s old structure allowed for too many large contracts to be signed, resulting in absurd amounts of money being given to players who may be un-deserving of the contract given.  Because of the way the collective bargaining agreement is structured, owners are often times locked into these players even after the player is a useful asset to their team, losing millions of dollars per year.  In the process of disagreeing, both the league owners and Players’ Association have sued and counter-sued, respectively, claiming unjust practices on various issues throughout the process.

Though progress seems to have been made, the NBA season beginning on time (or at all) still seems in doubt, unlike the NFL season, which had to happen.  Recently, my friend Max and I had discussed the possible losses that both the NFL and the NBA would lose if their seasons had not begun.  With some research, I found that NFL games are the most lucrative and expensive rights of any American sport.  Considering that the games are only on two to three days a week, television networks bid billions upon billions of dollars in order to have certain NFL games broadcast on their television networks.  In an astounding difference, the NFL’s television market value is a whopping $20.4 Billion compared to the NBA’s deal worth roughly $3 Billion.  In essence, there was simply too much money to lose if there were no NFL season. The pressure to have a season begin on time rode on the NFL’s team owners and its players, knowing that any financial disagreements regarding a few million dollars were better to settle on right away than the billions of dollars that would have been lost otherwise.

Whereas progress seems to have been made, the search for an NBA season still keeps me searching ESPN.com daily in the hopes that the lockout will end.  Money aside, I love the game too much to see this season wear away because of financial disagreements that I still cannot understand.  I mean, what’s a $99 million salary versus $100 million one? To me, it doesn’t make any sense.  And although I was enlightened to see that the NFL season began with a bang (and that I am able to watch my beloved Giants this coming Sunday), I still cannot imagine these coming winter months without my NBA on TNT Thursday nights to keep me going to bed a contented man.