2nd annual RBKI Championship

So, I had another karate tournament yesterday, this one being at my church, where I take karate. (We have a karate ministry at church. It might sound really strange to have a karate 'ministry'. We are required to memorize scripture for each belt, and we associate each belt with one of the Fruits of the Spirit, found in Gal 5:22-23. "But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, and self-control; against such things there is no law." We use are physical skills as an outreach to demonstrate what God has done in us. And if you're thinking we're a bunch of Bible-thumping pansy's who think we take karate, you're sadly mistaken. We have one of the most comprehensive systems around. ATA Tae Kwon Doe, unless I'm mistaken, learn nine forms by they time they're black belt. We learn twenty-two. Not to mention we have Robert Blackstone as an instructor. That name probably doesn't mean a whole lot to you, but he's one of the best around, if not the best.) We had some of the most intense competition that I've ever seen. A lot more than the last tournament I competed in. I brought home two 2nd place medals, in forms and weapons, and one 3rd place in sparring. Every division was decided with about 6 tenths of a point, from 1st place to 5th in some divisions. I was beaten for first both times by 2 tenths of a point. That's how good we all were. And though I toke 3rd out of three in sparring, that was the most fun I've had in sparring. Talk about hard-core fighting. We had one tie in the younger divisions (who are surprisingly good, I'm glad they weren't in my division), and both were extremely awesome. Overall we had an incredibly good time, and I believe God was glorified through our sportsmanship and friendship.

Reader Response Essay

Matt Williams

Wendy

English 1010

October 18, 2007

Reader Response Essay

In Sanders’ essay “Under the Influence”, he describes his childhood, and how it was ravaged by his father’s alcoholism. He tells us about how he and his family never mention to anyone about how his father was a drunk, but always remain silent about it. He tells us his father’s dry spells, which were when Sanders’ sister was born, and how “the shock of fatherhood sobered him.” (Sanders 741) and he stayed sober until they moved to Ohio in 1951. “There I turned six and started school and woke into a child’s flickering awareness, just in time to see my father begin sneaking swigs in the garage.” (Sanders 741) Sanders goes on to describe how his father almost dies, and is warned by the doctors to stop drinking or the next binge will kill him. He takes what they say to heart, and doesn’t touch the stuff for fifteen years. Then after he has retired, he is offered a beer by the people helping him move, and he gets back into drinking, and it eventually kills him.

Right off the bat Sanders gets my attentions as he talks about his father. “He drank as a gut-punched boxer gasps for breath, as a starving dog gobbles food—compulsively, secretly, in pain and trembling.” (Sanders 733) Here I see just how badly Sanders’ father drank. I see the boxer gasping for breath, and I also see that hungry dog, and his analogy makes a distinct point in my mind, that his father was as addicted to alcohol as I am to oxygen. I start to realize the pain Sanders went through as a child, and I start to sympathize and feel bad for him. I also get the impression that this is not going to be a particularly happy, joy-filled essay. I get the impression that Sanders is both hurt and angry: hurt from a father who was not always himself, who wasted both time and money to the drink, and angry that his father acted how he did towards him and his family.

Throughout his childhood, Sanders remembers when he and his siblings would watch their father get out of the car once he got home from work and stager up to the house and into his overstuffed chair and fall asleep. “All evening, until our bedtimes, we tiptoe past him, as past a snoring dragon.” (Sanders 733) Here I see their fear of waking him up and feeling his wrath. He awakens the image in my mind of Harry Potter flying around a dragon trying to steal an egg out from its nest in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. With such imagery even I get fearful for him, memory or not. Once Sanders’ father finally awakened, he and his wife would argue, ending in the wife fleeing to the bedroom weeping, which leaves the father to rummage through the house. “Whatever my brother and sister and mother may be thinking on their own rumpled pillows, I lie there hating him, loving him, fearing him, knowing I have failed him.” (Sanders 734) Here I imagine a confused little boy, not knowing quite what to think, quite what to feel, wishing that there was something that he could do to make his father better, and thinking it was his fault why his father drinks.

Throughout the essay, I get the feeling that Sanders is writing this essay with a feeling of sorrow. “In a matter of minutes, the contents of a bottle could transform a brave man into a coward, a buddy into a bully, a gifted athlete and skilled carpenter and shrewd businessman into a bumbler. No dictionary of synonyms for drunk would soften the anguish of watching our prince turn into a frog.” (Sanders 735) The word choice that Sanders uses here paints us the picture of someone becoming their opposite: the courageous man turn tail, friend turned enemy, the successful businessman turned into a bum, prince turned into frog. Here Sanders relates to us how he was deprived of his father throughout his childhood.

Throughout the essay I feel a sense of anger towards those who supply alcohol. “Because the Mom and Pop who ran the dump were neighbors of ours, living just down the tar-blistered road, I hated them all the more for poisoning my father. I wanted to sneak in their store and smash the bottles and set fire to the place. I also hated the Gallo brothers. . . I noted the Gallo brothers’ address . . . because I meant to go out there and tell Ernest and Julio what they were doing to my father, and then, if they showed no mercy, I would kill them.” (Sanders 737) I can definitely feel Sanders’ anger, and a lot of it. He uses a lot of passion while imagining how he wants to punish those who have caused his father to lose his right self. I can understand his anger, and I also understand his passion in his hatred, because he loves his father, but hates the drunken version of him.

Sanders lets us in on his religious views some, or at least how he was raised. “Our neighborhood was high on the Bible, and the Bible was hard on drunkards.” (Sanders 737) He lets us know here that he was raised in church, and was exposed to the Bible. “‘Wine and new wine take away the understanding.’ declared the prophet Hosea. We had also seen evidence of that in our father, who could multiply seven-digit numbers in his head when sober, but when drunk could not help us with fourth grade math.” (Sanders 738) I get the impression that Sanders believes this statement from the Bible, and I agree with him in that belief. “Bible and sermons and hymns combined to give us the impression that Moses should have brought down from the mountain another stone tablet, bearing the Eleventh Commandment: Thou shalt not drink.” (Sanders 738) I get the impression from this quote from Sanders’ essay that he cannot stand drunkards, and once again, I find myself and my values re-enforced by the essay.

Sanders goes on to talk about a story from the New Testament. “The scariest and most illuminating Bible story apropos of drunkards was the one about the lunatic and the swine.” (Sanders 738) The story he is referring to is about a demon-possessed man, who is possessed by multiple demons, who could not be bound by any chains, and who hurt himself with stones in the graveyard. When Christ sent the demons away, they asked permission to go into the swine. “But I thought of the redeemed lunatic, who bathed himself and put on clothes and calmly sat at the feet of Jesus, restored—so the Bible said—to ‘his right mind’” (Sanders 738) Sanders takes this Bible story and relates it to his father. While the man was not a drunk, but was demon-possessed, the same concept of being out of ‘his right mind’ applies. He even goes so as to believe that his father was possessed by demons. I can see from his thoughts that his father might be demon-possessed that he clearly thinks that alcohol is evil, and the drunkenness is a grievous evil.

Towards the end of the essay, Sanders lets us know how he feels about social drinking. “I still shy away from nightclubs, from bars, from parties where the solvent is alcohol.” (Sanders 744) I get the impression that he is against drinking for the sake of entertainment, for the sake of fun. He is afraid that he will become like his father, and he does not have any wish to do so. But he isn’t against drinking entirely, which confuses me. “I still do—once a week, perhaps, a glass of wine, a can of beer, nothing stronger, nothing more. I listen for the turning of a key in my brain.” (Sanders 744) Here Sanders admits to drinking, but I get the impression that it is almost as if drinking is compulsory for him, which is why I am confused. I do think part of why he drinks once a week is so that he will not be tempted to go on a binge if he is denied (whether or not he denies himself of it) alcohol. But he is cautious, which leads me to believe he is a very wise and cautious man. He always makes sure he doesn’t hear that key click which opens the door to his second version or self.

Throughout various places in the essay, I am affected emotionally. Sometimes I fell pity, sympathy and sorrow by the pain a young boy feels at the thought that it is his fault his father drinks (“I was flung back into boyhood, acting as though my father would not drink himself to death if only I were perfect” [Sanders 743] ). At other times I feel anger and hatred when Sanders describes how he would love to burn down the store and kill the Gallo brothers. Mainly I feel sorrow for this boy who had to go through life with only half a father.

Bottles

When I hear the word "bottles" I think of two things, typically: baby bottles and liquor bottles. I usually think of baby bottles more often, because my oldest brother has five kids and my cousin has five kids as well. But every now and then I think of liquor bottles, because I have a friend whose wife struggles with drinking, and I have some friends who drink as well.
Drinking (responsibly, at least) is not bad in and of itself. Unless you are out drinking uncontrollably and getting drunk all the time, drinking can be ok. But you have to be careful with it. you shouldn't drink around those who struggle with it as an addiction. Doing so would tempt and encourage said alcoholic to drink. But , as it does cause problems, it would be wise not to dink at all. It would be better not to risk getting drunk, getting addicted, or encouraging someone else to drink.
When I hear the word "bottles" I think of the time when one of my co-workers bought some liquor for one of out other co-workers, the buyer being twenty-one and the receiver being eighteen. I'm also reminded of when I was called naive and innocent at work because I did not know what some of drinks were that they were talking about. I'm reminded still fo the story of David and Bathsheeba. David gets Bathsheeba pregnant while Uriah, her husband, was at war. David then calls Uriah back so that Uriah will go home to his wife and David won't get caught. Uriah instead sleeps with the guards at the foot of the castle. David then decides to get Uriah drunk so that he will go home to his wife, but even when he's drunk he won't go home to his wife. He didn't think it was fair for him to go lay with his wife while his fellow country men were still out on the battlefield fighting. In the end, David has Uriah killed in battle and takes Bathsheeba as his own wife. He ends up grieving the whole 9 months of the pregnancy and loses the baby. Nathan the prophet rebukes David after all of this.

Abuse

The bedroom scene where David's sister is thrown against the wall hits somewhat close to home. There is a little girl and boy at church who are going through a similar situation. Their parents are divorced, and momma has a boyfriend, who is abusive. Yet there is silence. The mom will not report the boyfriend, most likely out of fear that no one else will "love" her, so she chooses the abuse over loneliness, even though it hurts her and her children.

Frustration

I can get so frustrated at times, whether it is with myself, objects or tools, or other people. When I clean the pool, and the vacuum decides it wants to stop working and mess up, I get angry and frustrated with it (though admittedly its human error a lot of the time) and want to just stop before I get even angrier and end up breaking it in my frustration.
At work, I can get frustrated with my co-workers. I don't care so much about them not working as their being in my way of working. If you're gonna stand around and talk, get out of my way!

Yard Work

As the only guy in my house, I typically (well, always) have to take care of the yard. I am the one who has to mow the lawn, weed-eat, etc. I don't typically edge the yard, though. Momma usually does that, because she does it better than anybody else.
I remember when I was younger and could never finish mowing the lawn in one day, whether or not it was because I was lazy or unskilled. I remember what should have taken about an hour and a half I always managed to stretch into three days. It felt like I was always mowing, and that I never got to do what I wanted because I was always mwoing. I remember those days when I didn't really know how to use a mower, and the days when I couldn't get it to start.

life

So, right now life is both really good and really hectic. I'm working four days out of the school week, which isn't too bad, i'm used to it. I've got a calculus test wednesday and I don't understand half of it. But this weekend is gonna rock! This is a karate tournament I'm competing in saturday, and I'm competing in forms, weapons, and sparring. I'll do really good in forms and weapons, but sparring is just for the fun of it. I'm not the best in the world, but I'm not too shabby. This will be my first open tournament, so I'm excited and nervous at the same time. We've also got our school tournament coming up on the 27th, which is going to be a lot of fun. I've actually got a good shot at making grand champion that day. Depends on how good I do at sparring. One guy I think I can beat, the other I will be really surprised to beat. I should do really good at forms and weapons. My friend Kayce thinks she's gonna beat me at weapons. I laughed at her. Haha. She is good though, so it won't be easy to beat her. But I'm not gonna tell her that. (Unless of course she's reading this. lol)
College isn't as bad as I thought it was gonna be. So far the only hard part is keeping up with the blogs. For the most part, you don't have to do homework. That's great and that stinks really bad. I really need to keep up with my calculus homework so I don't panic each time we have a test. Last test I didn't understand the stuff until the class before the test. Right now I only half understand the stuff. But I've got time to study a lot tomorrow. So I should be good.
Well, if you have made it this far (I know it isn't too far, but still...) congratulate you on not dieing of boredom.

Tragedy and how it Affects Us

Matt Williams

This weekend, Taylor Bradford was shot on campus, and died shortly thereafter. It hasn’t really affected me like it has some people. I didn’t actually know him. It is almost like some distant feeling of sorrow. I’m sad that one of my fellow students has died.

It has affected me, though, in that it has once again shown me just how quickly life can change, and in some cases, end. Most of us take life for granted. We tend to think there will always be a tomorrow. Well, that is not always so, as in Taylor’s case. Life can end, just as abruptly for us as that bug that hits your windshield. It has reminded me to live as if it were my last day, and it has reminded me to let the people I love know that I love them, just in case I don’t get to see them again this side of eternity.

Family, friends and God

So, this past weekend was pretty much amazing. I went up to Jackson, TN saturday to help my sister and husband unpack their stuff in the awesome new house. I mainly help put together bookshelves. I left around lunch time, though, to go hang out with a friend from middle school (I lived in Jackson from 4th grade to Halloween of 9th grade) with, and whom I haven't seen in almost a year. We do lunch at Chick-fil-a, stop by Toys R Us to pick up some gifts cards for some little kids, and walk around Union University (where she goes to school) until 2 so she can show me her dorm. The whole time we're together we're just talking about God and about missions (we both don't really know what God has in store for us as far as life goes, but we both have a heart for missions) and other cool stuff. After I got done hanging out with Shannon, I finished helping my brother-in-law put together the other bookshelves that they had (I actually left while him and my brother were putting together the first one). Throughout the time with Shannon, God just used her to remind me of some stuff that I needed reminding of.
On Sunday, in Sunday School, I was reminded of something else, something that is as awesome as anything else I know. As a Christian, I am an adopted son of God, co-heirs with Christ. According to Roman law, adopted children weren't considered second class, but equals with the other children, having full legal rights to inheritances and property. As an adopted son, I have full rights to everything the Father has. I had forgotten that I am able to tap into God's power, and by doing so overcome these temptations that like to haunt me, so to speak. God is amazing.
"For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord." Romans 6:23

personal evaluation essay

Matt Williams

Wendy

English 1010

October 1, 2007

Self-Evaluation Essay

My first paper was due on the 25 of September, and was a textual analysis essay, 2000 words. So, to start of my incredibly ingenious process, I chose the most interesting to me, Prime Directive, and read it through. A couple of days later, I start to write the essay, and I sit down and read through the essay again, this time with a pen. I underlined anything that I found interesting, cool, thought-provoking, or that I thought would be useful in explaining what I thought Griffith was trying to say in his essay. After I finished reading it, I started writing, and I wrote about the essay chronologically, as that seemed to me to be the easiest way, since I had underlined different quotes throughout the essay. I gave some explanation of the essay, and as I said what I thought Griffith was saying, I used most of the quotes I’d underlined to highlight what I had said.

I think as a writer I started learning to be more expressive of my own opinions. And I mean started. I doubt I am yet as good and expressive as I need to be. As a reader, I don’t know that I changed a whole lot. I think I have started reading assigned texts more analytically, but probably not a whole lot as of yet. I don’t believe that I changed any as a person, though I might be more aware and more disgusted by the things humans can come up with to torture other humans.

I’m not sure yet what I will do differently next time. I haven’t received my paper yet, so I’m not sure where my mistakes are. I might start a little earlier though. While I didn’t skip my other classes for the sole purpose of writing the essay, I would have had to stay up all night to be able to finish it. So, I won’t under estimate how long it will take me to finish a paper next time.