Writing.

So sorry for the bright red text. it's the only way you can see the highlighter. Hope your eyes can survive. (it was easier to change the text color than the highlighter color.)

I really like to write. I like to tell myself I'm pretty good at it. So I took Freshman Writing my first semester of college. If I'm a good writer, I should smoke the class, no? 

Turns out writing is a little bit different here. I find myself more and more convinced that whatever is going on over on the east coast is right and people here are absolutely insane. 

My professor is a grad student, Ms. Collins, who has a british accent. Sometimes the british accent is all that has kept me in class. 

It's 2 AM and i've churned out 4 solid pages on this paper that's due friday. I have to get a rough draft to my 3 peer editors later today. We had a big talk about revision in class monday. Collins says that a final draft should look like a sumo wrestler with a tummy tuck (not in those exact words) compared to a rough draft (completely different). I disagree. Revision is only for papers that weren't thought out well enough in advance so that they require a second attempt on to try and hash everything out. it's also for finding things that spellcheck didn't catch.

So i come to college and get to write about facebook. #stoked. oh wait, hashtags are for twitter morons. THEY DON'T DO ANYTHING ON FACEBOOK. <<<<<<thesis right there. Let me give a shout-out to my dad for being conscious of what website he is on and not using embarrassing hashtags whilst on facebook. You are hip man. keepin up. I sincerely mean that. 

So 3 people have to read my draft of this paper about whether or not this article about facebook is rhetorically structured well. I went with the affirmative because it's a bit easier. I decided that i'd let my peer editors have a little bit to work with. Here's the paper. I highlighted the "uncensored" parts. Let me preface this with letting you know that the last paper i wrote was marked down because there wasn't "enough voice" in it. Take this. Can you tell where Jacob left the room and Captain Insano took over? 

Rhetorical Analysis
Jacob H. Ankney
Corrine Collins
Writing 150
Friendless.
 

    In his article “You Have No Friends” Farhad Manjoo attempts to persuade us through the use of various rhetorical devices that there is no legitimate reason to stay off of Facebook in today’s world, and further condones its use in our daily lives. He wisely represents both sides of the argument, which makes his statement more believable and valid, then anticipates and answers burning questions that his readers may have about the subject. He effectively structures his argument and presents it in a convincing enough way to change someone’s perspective about Facebook. 
 

Manjoo, after giving us a brief lesson in Facebook history, defines his audience. The anticipated audience and how he chooses to address them is key in his argument. There is no mystery as to whom Manjoo is talking to, because he clearly states in the second paragraph of the article that the article is written expressly “to those readers who are not on Facebook, especially the ones who have consciously decided to stay away.” This is not alienation of the audience, but merely a simple way for him to state his objective-that “there is no longer any good reason to avoid Facebook.”  Arguably, a longtime Facebook user could quit reading the article right then and there, which would be counterintuitive for Manjoo as a writer, seeing as he would want as many people reading his writings about Facebook as possible. Tailoring the article to readers who are NOT on the social network eliminates at least 500 million possible readers. But, for some reason, the human fascination with all things Facebook makes everyone, Facebook users and non-Facebookians alike, to read this article. If Facebook’s name is on it, people will go for it. Manjoo has just defined his objective: he wants to catch the people running buck the other way from Facebook, cut their Achilles tendons, and drag them back to Facebookopolis (from which there is no escape). Insert allusion to 1985 and loving Big Brother here.   
 

The attitude towards the non-Facebookians that is conveyed in this article is key to supporting Manjoo’s argument. His neutrality of diction lures the reader into a sort of psychological apnea. He talks conversationally, almost as if he were a lifelong friend, but let’s remember he’s a writer and that those people cannot be trusted. Phrases such as “    “ and his use of the indefinite second-person pronoun “you.”The last one is the biggest. The indefinite “you” makes it seem like there is a big finger pointing out of the page at the reader, stating boldly, “I WROTE THIS FOR YOU SO KEEP READING.” “You” is informal. The article is a one-sided conversation. Like a high school cheerleader, Manjoo talks until his breath runs out, and just when you think he’s stopped, he shotguns the reader down with a plethora of testimonials, generalizations, and other pointlessly unpersuasive devices. 
 

Let me talk for a minute about the fork. The fork is the ultimate utensil. If I were trapped on an island and everything I could see was edible in a very Willy-Wonaka-Ish kind of way, I would want a fork at my side. Where a knife will slice your tongue and a spoon will just leave you dilapidated from trying to fish that one last noodle out of your soup, the Fork stands tall. The four prongs of the fork represent the four values that any man must base his life on:  self-respect, wisdom, diligence, and a complete disregard for anything feminine (such as horseback riding, nail-painting, and watching movies for the plot). It cuts on its side, it pokes right side up, you can twirl noodles around it, and completely defeats the need for spatulation in your kitchen.
 

Manjoo talks about how Facebook, like the fork, is an essential item to be used in daily life with the similaeic expression “[Facebook] is now so widely trafficked that it’s fast becoming a routine social aid, like e-mail or antiperspirant.” That’s right. It’s a routine social aid. Imagine life without deodorant. That would stink. Manjoo uses everyday items that people use to interact with each other to illustrate his point. There is a certain stigma attached to people who do not use email these days. We may call them technologically challenged, behind the times, or Amish. Still, it is socially acceptable for someone not to email every day, or even own a computer. This is why Manjoo takes the simile to the next level and discusses antiperspirant. The negative emotions that swirl around the non-deodorant-wearer in a group of people are almost enough to make them a social outcast.  Deodorant is arguably one of the most widely used social norms in America, probably second only to toilet paper.
 

Questions are asked to the reader periodically throughout the article. Manjoo uses these questions as a springboard to bring about his next point. “Can I call you friends?” establishes his connection with the audience, “What’s the social utility to Facebook-why why should you join?” leads to a discussion of Facebook’s myriad benefits. Answers to implied questions like “are you staying off of Facebook because you’re worried about people knowing your business?” and “Why isn’t Facebook just a hub for the socially awkward?” show a carefully planned response to questions that people may collectively have about the network.
 

The icing on the cake of the whole argument is the ironic story of Darcy Stockton that is told at the end of the article. Stockton, who “held nothing back in describing her hatred of Facebook,” talking to magazines and the like about it, is shown as the ideal Facebook convert. She goes from utter, unbridled hatred of Facebook to the opposite side of the spectrum, similar to a man who is an atheist converting to scientology. Manjoo holds true to every tempter’s slogan-“if you just try it (Facebook), you will be guaranteed to like it.” Ending the article with a real-life scenario where a socially prominent fashion photographer vows herself to Facebook after years of hating it does nothing but strengthen every claim Manjoo has made thus far.
 

So in the end, the article is rhetorically sound. On a personal note, I cannot completely judge it objectively, because I am a Facebook user. I have a bias towards Facebook because it helps me stay connected with my mother, high school friends, and waste time when I should be writing papers for my college classes. Someone who has never even heard of Facebook, like an Australian Aborigine, would have to be the judge of that.  Again, the use of simile, loaded questions, conversationalism, and the ironic testimonial at the end make “You Have No Friends” a very persuasive article.

 The End. 

So yeah, my peer editors have stuff to work with. I just thought if i wrote the paper poorly then i'd have stuff to revise. Lesson: Write crappily so that you can make revisions and it looks like you're doing work. If you're a runner, run really slow at the beginning of the season and then speed the freak up at the last meet so you can get the coveted "most improved" award.....not synonymous with the "hardest worker" award. 

Ballin.

So today was cleaning check in Fugal Hall (that's where i live).

I had to clean the stove, oven, bathroom floor, and bathroom door.

I realize how time consuming cleaning is and how 6 men can completely destroy an apartment. One comment today was "hey guys, come look, we can see the drain in the bathtub now!" I would post before/after pictures, but I didn't take any, and I'm not sure if the before pictures (especially of the bathtub) are internet appropriate. Just think 15 Neanderthals shaved every hair on their body and dumped it in 188's bathtub. I legit have not used the tub this year because a) I don't fit inside of it because I'm 6'1 and b) Just looking at the bathtub is almost enough to give you AIDS.

After frantically sterilizing our apartment and dumping pine sol all over the carpet in an attempt to make the place smell better, I went to my first regular-season basketball game. That's right. I got signed up for an intramural basketball team.

Here we are.

Drew, Demetrius, Cracker Matt, Lamar, Michelle (cheerleader for the night), and De-Vaughn

McKenna would like a photo credit. Here's your photo credit McKenna.


We're called "The Flight of Kishkumen," which is a reference to the Book of Mormon. This evil dude, Kishkumen, fled from the righteous guys who were trying to bring him to justice, and his flight was "so speed that no man could overtake him." So I guess we're speedy. Didn't pick the name. It's a 3 on 3 team, and we play half-court ball.

Andrew, Matt, Jake, and I all live in the same building, while Devon hails from Wyview. He's another one of Jake's high school buddies, and is the one who started the team. The guy is a genius because he signed us up to play in the intermediate league. You'll see why.

We showed up to the game, and we're feeling pretty good because we ball it up like nobody else. We go hard in the paint. The foci of my week have been the Game tonight and the one tomorrow.

We got crushed. That probably doesn't even do it justice. Just think Lebron James versus David Beckham in a game of 1 on 1 Baskteball. Yeah, athletic as Beckham is, he's a girl. Anyway, we played three games of first to 20. 0-20, 6-20, and 17-20. Turns out Devon signed us up for the league chock-full of RETURNED MISSIONARIES. I'm the tallest guy on our team, but the opposition tonight was at least my height, plus 60 pounds of good muscle. Before the game we all introduced ourselves, and turns out we were playing against a bunch of guys who were at least 3 years older than us. They were also all married. For the record, our fan crowd was bigger than theirs. I mean, if you can't even get your wife to show up to your intramural basketball game to watch you crush a bunch of gangly (i only speak for myself) freshman, I don't think your marriage is very successful. Maybe I should just change my major right now and become a marriage counselor. YES. I feel like i've got good advise for troubled couples.


"Dude, you just got to let her know who's boss. You can't just let her walk all over you like that. You do NOT want to watch Pride and Prejudice (BBC version). Keep yo' pimp hand STRONG!"


"Hey, just do yourself a favor and don't listen to anything he says. If he ticks you off, bake some ex-lax into some cookies, and then see who is laughing."


I see the headlines: "Divorce Rate Plummets due to Ankney's New Counseling Techniques."


Obviously we were outplayed because these guys had all spent 2 years in a foreign country doing nothing but preaching Mormonism and playing basketball. Fact: When a mormon missionary is not on the street knocking on doors, he's in the church playing basketball (suit and all). It makes me think of the one episode of dragonball z that i've seen where these two guys are fighting and halfway through one guy takes his jacket off and we find that he was wearing a weight vest underneath. Suit=weight vest. take the suit off, you become akin to bambi on the court. ish.

So yeah, We got our butts whipped. but we passed cleaning inspection. I drowned my sorrows in cookies and cream milk afterwards with everyone. Such is the life. There also was a point in the night where there was a loose ball and it was on the floor and I ended up grabbing this random guy's leg and pinning him to the floor (going for the ball, of course). There were also some instances of jumping and nearly Kneeing guys in the face because they pump-faked. Earth to Mikas, you pump-faked, you got to take the punishment.

It's going to be a long season. But fun. Also, if you drink pine sol, you'll turn into superman. I told carson that today. Carson is very particular about how clean the apartment is, which is totally fine, but then he moans about how my pine sol that i'm using on the bathroom door smells too strong. PARADOX.

Dance Dance.

So I hate dancing. Like a lot.

Jake and I decided to grace one of the homecoming dances with our presence. We took dates so that we didn't look like complete losers showing up to the dance alone, and the night was pretty fun. I'd say this time around the ask-outage and the actual date were about on par with each other, which is better than anything that's happened so far out here in Utah. I took 4 of my glass bottles from my mexican soda graveyard and led my date on a treasure hunt all over campus with the messages in a bottle. Jake put his name in a plastic bag inside a mason jar full of water then flipped it over on their table. We are pretty brilliant at times.

The reply was almost equally as interesting. It led us on a wild-goose chase through the library looking up call numbers for books with notes hidden in them, the last of which was checked out.

Our dates, Becca and Carolina, volunteered setting up and tearing down all the decorations for the dance so we didn't leave until about 1245 in the morning. Super-fun. Back home, I swore off helping clean up after a dance for life, but sometimes life puts you in interesting situations.

But like I said, I hate dancing a lot.

like i've said before, dancing is just a bunch of stupid people doing basically the same stupid thing at the same time. ish. And it's all ok. drinketh the kool-aid.

There are several things that you are guaranteed to see should you attend a dance where lots of mormons are present.


The 5 Commandments of Mormon Dances:

1) Thou Shalt have at least one, if not more, couple Swing dancing AT ALL TIMES. no matter how fast, slow, or what genre the song is (such as hip-hop), this is like REALLY REALLY important. Swing dancing seems to be the mark of the "sophisticated" person at a mormon dance. Almost as popular as the socially unconscious of when to swingdance couple are the guys who will take a girl who has absolutely no idea how to Swingdance and attempt to teach her within 5 to 10 minutes how to get flipped around and thrown up in the air by him. Maybe the chicks dig Swing dancing, but I think it just puts a big label that says "TOOL" on your forehead.

2) Thou Shalt Do The Worm. Somebody please grace us again with this invertabraeic dance move. Yes i just made that word up. I do what i please. It's not like we didn't get enough of it in the 90s with the "blue da ba dee" song. The worm says to me "Hey, I have no friends, so i will wallow on the ground flopping around like a dead fish and maybe people will like me."

3) Thou Shalt Have the Sweaty Guy. Lets be honest with ourselves. There's always the one guy who's got mad BO and has sweat through his undershirt, collared shirt, and sweater vest and is still on the dancefloor, letting everybody know who is the boss. We're all too polite to let him know that we don't want to swim in the secretions of his sweat glands, so we just hope the 5 foot "no man's land" radius that surrounds him will give him the hint.

4) Thou Shalt Dance as Whitely as possible. Just watch hitch. Will Smith will teach you.

5) Thou Shalt Have Someone attempt to Breakdance. Pop it, lock it, and please leave. Breakdance is a lot like sarcasm: everyone thinks they know about it and how to use it but there are few that actually do. unless a guy walks in with a linoleum mat and his own boombox, i'm not going to be impressed.

1, 2, 4, and 5 are pretty much all the same thing, but repetition means that somebody doesn't get it.

I'm also in a "prank war" right now. i think for it to be a war i have to acknowledge that the opposition has some chance of winning, so for lack of a better phrase we'll call it a prank annihilation. I am the annihilator, in case you haven't figured out. It all started with Carolina and Becca (the two chicks jake and I took to homecoming, respectively) stealing kevin's stuffed moose this afternoon named "mooseleinni." Recon Mission alpha went and recovered it, but then Andrew's beloved texas flag was stolen. cardinal sin. So, being one to look out for my roommate, I went with jake and kevin, stole a star wars poster, an oven door, then waterballooned becca and carolina. That's what they get for lurking around the guys dorm all day every day. There were a couple tense moments when I was worried the RA would get called on us, but it looks like we're safe for the night. witness protection. There was also a large discharge of nerds underneath our door at about 1145 this evening. but who cares. I already know what i'm doing with them. What a waste of valuable candy though. I said to Jake at one point in the night (because i have a hard time recognizing and remembering the names of chicks i've taken on dates) "dude, those are the girls we went to homecoming with, right?" I'm wondering what brought on this onslaught of unprovoked prankage. For the legal record, Everything that I do is in self defense. Sure, America didn't start world war II, but We definitely nuked japan and ended it.

You mess with the bull, You get the horns.

It's an Elephant, but that's beside the point.

Social Dance.

College is all about making mistakes.

then learning from them.

The biggest college mistake I've made thus far is taking a social dance class.


As discussed before on this blog, out here at BYU people are crazy about dancing. I don't understand the obsession. I took social dance because I needed an extra half credit in my schedule so I wouldn't get kicked out of school. I should have taken something else. biggest regret of my life right here.


BYU is supposed to have almost a 2:1 girl to guy ratio. So it only makes sense that there are about 6 more guys than girls in my social dance class. yeah. way to go with the stats.


I figured dancing would be a good thing to learn. make me more cultured (if that were at all possible). I thought it would be a good way to meet new people. What i didn't realize is that the majority of the guys in class with me are there looking for their social life. I don't think they'll find it there. Here at BYU, there are 2 types of guys: Men who have served their 2-year LDS mission, and those who haven't. Returned missionaries, or "RMs" have the stigma attached to them of being at school just searching for a wife. not without reason though. Yeah. there are awkward RMs in my class looking for freshmen to marry. nuts. There is also a 40+ year old woman in the class. not cool. yes, getting an education is important, but the time in your life has passed to take classes with 18 year old guys. they don't call this school the cougars for nothing.  This is what online classes were invented for.


Social dance is the class i worry about failing the most. The teacher does not give As on tests (it's his policy), and if you can't dance, you fail. I TOOK THE CLASS TO LEARN HOW TO DANCE. HELLO.


Life is terrible from 11 to 1150 mondays and wednesdays.