In Writing 150, our teacher asked us to write the longest sentence we could. I wrote a sentence that was 327 words in 7 minutes, but I wanted to see how far I could go (1289). This was my morning.
In the morning, a beautiful morning, with birds chirping and car horns blaring (because it is the city, and such car horns are blaring at me, due to my bicycle riding), I rode, quickly and eagerly, towards one of the highlights of my day, which is to say the best part of the day, quite quickly, to say the least (so fast that as I met with a young fellow from my ward that he said “dude, you were cruising!”), due to the fact that I woke up late; so late, in fact, that I had six minutes from the time I awoke to the time that I could be there punctually (though punctuality had never been a priority, nor now, nor likely would it ever, unless a gross change in personality occurred), and, knowing that I would be late, tried my best to be there as fast as I could, that I might not miss a single minute more than needed from my favorite class, for my favorite part of the day was a class, and not only a class but a true institution of language, the so-called “Writing and Rhetoric” class, lead by none other than the glorious Captain, Gina Schneck, herself, the teacher that would lead me to this point, writing a sentence that compares to none other in the way that, overall, it covers such a mundane, obvious, and boring subject as being late to my favorite class with such flowery, intense, emotional language, which might be a sign that hypotactic, or periodical, sentences are overrated, misused, or perhaps arguably useless, assuming that varying sentence length is overrated, misused, or useless, which, I suppose, is not at all true, considering that as one varies sentence length, one also is able to keep the reader aware of what is being written, as a circus, with its three rings, keeps any and all people paying close attention to the amazing and dazzling showings there, what with the elephants and the tigers and the fire eaters, the trapeze being strung as a clown dances and juggles with his troupe, a man being blown out of a cannon, tumbling in the air with the same precision and grace as any ice skater or ballet dancer that one might watch, the ballet itself being a musical and amusing medium of art, one that is under-appreciated and in this day and age, one that people commonly relate to those with Gatsby-level wealth, one that they would and could not attain in all their days, despite them waking early (unlike myself) and working extremely hard, so hard that they truly have put their nose to the grindstone and put all their effort into success, and even then they might not attain the level of wealth that Gatsby had, that level of wealth that allows one to go to the ballet, which ballet has dancers of such grace that the man blown out of a cannon might also have, unexpected, to be sure, which man is found at the circus, the Greatest Show on Earth, even, which show is very much like this sentence, in that it distracts the audience in one way to put off the finale for the purpose of anticipation, which anticipation, if attempted to hold the audience for too long, becomes boredom, which then explains why the circus might have such large, independently interesting shows within the one, unlike this writing which, while descriptive and analogous and (in some peoples’ opinions) interesting, might not hold the attention of every reader that graces its pages (whether literal or metaphorical pages, due to the fact that we are, indeed, in the modern age, that digital reading has expanded to the point of having libraries rent out electronic versions of books and that entire stores have bankrupted due to not capitalizing on the idea of digital reading, even my own favorite book store, Borders, which is no longer with us, and one must resort to my lesser favorite bookstore, Barnes and Noble, for books, which is a sad day indeed, due to the fact that Borders was a better books store, but a simple miscalculation in societal trends lead to the end of an entire business, a true shame), yet this writing does, in fact, attempt at holding attention and, much like a circus itself, this writing and its writer does realize what it is and what it is saying and what it is trying to do, which is to create a sentence sizable enough to fulfill an assignment given by the afore-mentioned Captain Schneck and, although class has been over now for more than a hour, the writing itself lives on, past what the Captain, as the class so affectionately calls her (and not in an effort to get on her good side, for she doesn’t play favorites, and, truth be told, I feel uncomfortable calling her that and would rather, in many cases, call her Mrs. Schneck, due to the fact that she is married and that it would bring a more professional atmosphere to the relationship, not that there’s a relationship that is unprofessional between me and Mrs. Schneck, just that I don’t always feel comfortable while not calling a teacher something other than a title and their last name, but I suppose that could be due to the thirteen years in a school system where that was the norm, and that the teachers were teachers first, and not students at all, whereas Mrs. Schneck and my other current teacher, Dennis Wloka, my German 201 teacher, which class I’m able to be in due to my time in Germany, an opportunity allowed my because of my father’s work, as they required a network engineer on-site as part of a contract with the army, and seeing as my father fit the requirements and applied, he filled that intra-company position, which lead to my living in Heidelberg, Germany, entering into an International school and taking German classes that my current university, Brigham Young University, credits as a German 101 and 102 class, so that I might take German 201 with Dennis Wloka, my only other teacher at this time, whom I call Dennis, and this relationship also feels less professional, and these opinions of calling my teachers by titles is not to say that a school situation needs to be professional, and if punctuality is any measure, I am not professional in the least, but this desire to call my teachers by formal titles should come out of habit and comfort), has expected, and truly past what this author has expected, especially considering that there is real work needed to do, considering that there are papers to revise for my favorite class, Writing and Rhetoric, and there’s a paper to finish, and there is German homework to do as well, which German homework I will likely turn in late, sadly, but I will turn in today, if given enough time following my work as a store clerk, a wholly uninteresting and, honestly, unwanted job, but one that pays the bills, as people say, and one that I hope to replace with one as a student employee at my university, not due to an overt devotion to the school, and definitely not persuaded by the salary, which would be less than my current employ, as well as less time working, but due to the flexibility, that they might work with my schedule, a needed aspect as I transition into full semesters in August, as Fall semester here begins, and being able to be employed is a true necessity of being a student, especially here at BYU, that I might take classes, such as my favorite, Writing 150, which is Writing and Rhetoric, to which I was late today.
Mountain Midwest Conference 