What is this bike?

• The rust of on the bike may indicate the bike stays outdoors mostly and is not well maintained. 
•  Is the bike left outside often?
• Are all bikes on a college campus like this?
• Because of the bikes age, was it left alone for a while?
• What does this say about biker culture on a college campus?
• Thin tires and mustache handlebar indicate a road bike, a bike that likes to travel at faster speeds.
• 10-speed bike indicates it is an older model. Bikes today are usually 21 or 24-speed.
• Size of bike indicates it is for an adult.
• Bike still functions properly, indicates it is used.
• Rubber tires indicate standard material. The person who rides this bike may not spend a lot of money on the bike itself.
• Brakes indicate the user wants to stop riding occasionally.
• Blue colored frame.
• Is this the rider’s favorite color?
• Is the manufacture’s color blue?

The bike that I ride... a description

            Any person, place, or thing always has some kind of backbone. For humans, it is our spine. For a place, it is the ground beneath. For the object I am talking about, it is its frame. With a blue coat of paint, it is the oldest part of the bike that I ride. Signs of age and wear can be shown in the rusting that exists around all of the moving parts. The frame starts in the center triangularly-shaped and balanced on single vertex. It is not exactly a triangle, but the metal rod on the front side is so small relative to the rest of the rods that it looks just like one. The rods are no bigger than 2 inches in diameter. Sitting on the bike seat, I see the handlebar is connected to the top and two prongs are projected forward and down to connect the wheel. The seat I am sitting on is connected and tightened to the frame with a bolt. Two more prongs project backwards and downwards to connect the rear wheel. At the base of this triangle is a set of pedals that and project off to the left and the right. I can easily touch my feet to the ground, let alone the pedals.

            As I look at the front and the back, there are two circular shaped wheels connected to the frame. The wheels on the bike are black, thin tread rubber. The tread runs in a series of straight lines that are imprinted around the entire wheel. The tire is no more than an inch from left to right and is inflated with air. This rubber itself is not directly connected to the frame. It runs around the outside of a metal wheel which cradles the rubber. The metal wheel is connected to the frame by a series of metallic silver spokes that meet at the center of the wheel. A cylinder, about the size of a hand formed into a fist, connects the wheel to the frame. The front wheel is free to rotate and the rear wheel is connected to the pedals.

            Right in front of me is the handlebar. On this particular bike, it is wrapped in white grip tape. The metal bar is shaped like a drooping mustache. You can either hold on to the bike near where it meets the frame, or you can lean over and grab it at the end of the drooping mustache. If you pull on one side of the bar, the wheel in front of you rotates. The bar and this wheel are connected through the front part of the frame. The frame does not rotate itself. I can also grip two metallic levers on either side of the bar. If I look at the lever, I notice a wire running from one to the front and from the other to the rear. They connect to a set of calipers that are less than half an inch away from the metal part of the wheels. When I pull on these levers, the calipers clinch and stop rotation of the wheel. At the point where the handlebar meets the frame, there are two more metallic levers. Two more wires run from these levers. One lever towards the pedals and one to the rear. These are connected to the driving mechanism, to a set of gears. As I move the lever back and forth, I notice that a chain connecting the gears shifts from larger gears to smaller gears and vice-versa. The other lever works does the same thing on the rear set of gears

            Below me is the seat. It is also triangular shaped and pointed forwards. It has a soft cloth surface and is filled with a firm foam. Towards the front is the point that presses against your crotch. The back half supports the middle of your rump, but does not seat the whole rump. It is slightly uncomfortable, but matches the sleekness of the bike. The seat is at the top of the rod that is bolted to the frame.

            The pedals are on either side of the bike. The pedals are metal matrices. They are connected on the side of the matrix to ‘L’ shaped rods that are opposite of each other. The rods are connected to the base of the frame and are connected to the driving mechanism. The driving mechanism is made of a series of gears and flywheels as well as a chain. Mentioned earlier, this chain connects the series of gears in the back to the series of gears in the front. All of these parts have rusted over the years and the chain has been stretched.  As I press the pedals in the forward direction on the petals, I notice that the bike starts to move as the rear wheel is connected to the driving mechanism. If I pedal backwards, the pedals are free to rotate and the rear wheel is not affected.

            The bike has the ability to move fast. With thin tires, a handlebar mustache and a light frame, it has the ability to get places it needs to in a short amount of time. The bike cannot handle off-roading very well, but it masters the road. A vehicle solely based on man-power. A great invention.

Musical Mastery

           Watching a band concert is one thing, conducting a band is another, but performing with a band is something truly special. For a short period of time, I was banded together with a group of fantastic musicians. We do not call ourselves band members or band-geeks, but we call each other family. It is one culture that has made a great impact on me as well as everyone else that took part. The whole performing with the band thing is not just the act of performing on a stage to an audience, but to the audience of ourselves in everyday life.

            The first sight reading of a piece is always rough. Mistakes are made, parts are not played, and people get lost. The melody is almost impossible to decipher and the harmony is played by the people that do not even have it in their part. A disaster is the simplest way to put it. After a week, things start to improve. People have gone home and have somewhat practiced their parts. People begin to have the motivation to improve for the better of the group. The mentality of if one person does not perform their part well, it falls on the responsibility of the rest of the group.

            When week two rolls around, melodies are becoming more defiant. Harmonies are starting to develop from their core, but are missing in some important spots. People are able to listen to each other instead of gluing their eye balls to the stands in front of them. It’s always my favorite part in band when I first hear my part line up with some other cool part in a completely different section. The first time you hear that, you know that things are coming together. You can look at that section or section member and give them a we’re-the-boss type of look.

            More practice has been achieved in week three. Harmonies are prominent and melodies are played with more confidence. Intonation is still an issue, but most, if not all the notes are being produced. The piece is starting to sound like it is supposed to. Ears are pleased. It is at this time that you begin to hear things you have not heard in the piece before. Confidence in the second and third parts brings out little frills and harmonies that the piece would be boring without. You begin to get attached to the piece. At this time, you are seeing a group of high school students transform into the talented musicians an audience sees at the concert.

            The final week rolls around and the conductor is cramming to get every single last detail out of the composition before the concert. The composer’s intent and the music that exists off the page comes to life. As one participates in the playing of a piece, once can see colors and auras fill the room from one end to another. Brilliant, vibrant, cascading rays of light of all colors clash from one instrument to the next. When a piece truly comes together, the band is united by these colors and it is felt.

Music is one of the few things that can evoke emotion out of anyone despite what language they speak, what background they have, and who they think they are. At the concert, a piece that is felt by the members of the family on stage is felt by the audience and creates a family in itself. You are not one person on the stage, but you are part of a bigger picture. Listening to every little thing, there comes a point where you know the music better than what’s written on the page. It is truly something special.

My Word

Procrastination

Procrastination: First Draft

If I could retake the Calculus 3 Exam in college, I would study a lot harder. The exam came at a point in the semester where an old, familiar phenomena of “senioritis” was beginning to kick in. It was around Thanksgiving when I began to feel this unusual wave of tiredness. Maybe it was all the L-tryptophan in the turkey that I had been eating, or perhaps it was the continual lack of sleep as my workload was increasing. There were two weeks left in the semester, the last of which was finals week. Most of this first week was either spent sleeping or procrastinating on study time. I had an entire semester to prepare for this finals week, and up to this point, I had been keeping up with my work and performing well on my exams. I was most worried about my German and Physics class, which meant that any of the studying I did manage to do went toward these classes. My standing 4.0 in my Calculus and Engineering courses had me feeling confident, resulting in less preparation time for these exams.

This was my first semester in college, and rolling into this week was an extremely nerve-wracking experience. Teachers had converted into review mode and were no longer teaching new material. I had converted into sleep mode, but made every effort I could to absorb what the teachers were saying in class. The weekend had rolled up a lot faster than I had expected. Once I realized how much I had to do and how little time I had, my heartbeat increased, as well as my adrenal level. Monday was my first exam. My mind raced, “Monday, Monday, Monday.” My Calculus final was my first college final, bright and early at 10:00am. I had been neglecting to study for this class for a very long time. I had been to a few review sessions, but had not prepared on my own.

Saturday night came and I decided that I should at least do something for this class. After all, it was only two days away. I rolled out my textbook and notebook and reviewed one of the four units of the semester. I was not extremely productive, but after a few hours, I rolled into bed. After my daily Sunday activity of religious practice, I remembered how little I had done the night before. It was noon, and I was very tired. So instead of being a model student, I rolled into bed again. I woke up a few hours later to pounding on my door. Opening the door, I found my friend, Duke, standing and holding a controller.

“Jesse, get out here and play Xbox with me!” he said. I thought to myself, “This is not a good idea, but, one game can’t hurt.” After a few hours, I realized it was more than one game. Time had flown and when it became 8pm, it was time to get work done. I had blown off the whole day before my Calculus final, and it finally hit me that I needed to get going. I buckled down and went on a long study binge. I had a friend with me the whole time, so of course we would get distracted every once in a while by sites like Imgur and YouTube. A video of cute puppies playing with rabbits dressed as Easter bunnies was worth more of my time than studying for my Calculus final. It was 2am when I looked at the clock and realized how late it had gotten and how tired I was. I had not covered everything, but I covered enough to be ready for the morning.

The sun came up and when my alarm went off at 9:30, I rolled out of bed. I was both scared and confident at the same time. It’s a feeling like drinking a combination of chocolate milk and orange juice—it just doesn’t sit well. I arrived at my exam room 10 minutes early. My heartbeat increased more and more with each second moving closer to 10am. Tick, tock, tick, tock. I was watching the clock projected on the screen at the front of the room. When the clock struck 10:00, the teaching assistants passed out the exam. My heart was racing, palms were sweating, and nerves were wracking. I was prepared. I was ready for this. Twelve problems, no big deal. I flipped it over to begin. I panicked instantly. There were four more problems than I had expected. Why would the teacher do that to me? “Alright. Calm down, Jesse, you’ll be fine,” I thought.

I made it through the first five problems in 30 minutes. I was making good time and was on track to finish early. I got to the next problem and froze. All I could do was stare at the paper, full of words that looked like a foreign language to me. “No problem,” I thought, “just move to the next one and come back later.” However, the next problem looked just as foreign. Now it was getting more serious. I’ll just move onto the next one. This became a pattern. A paradox where my mind knew how to do these problems, but on the testing day, it didn’t. The next hour and a half resembled an exam from hell. I had calmly made it through the first few problems and then suddenly I did not know what I was doing at all. My blood pressure was through the roof until the two hours were over. By the time I turned in my exam, I had pulled enough hair off my head to create a small cat. What on earth just happened to me?

Turning in the exam with so many insufficient answers and blanks was embarrassing. It obviously seemed like I had learned absolutely nothing that semester. It was bad. Really, really bad. I could not get out of my head how awful that hour and a half had been. At this point, I calculated what I would get in the class if I got a 50% on the final—a 3.0. This was far below what I had expected. I had been doing well all semester and for one test, for one test to bring down my grade this much was a disaster. How could I have done so terribly? I was frustrated with myself. I was in denial that such a thing had just happened to me.

There was no way I was going to let this happen on my other exams. I put away my video games, distanced myself from Duke and his distractions, and moved to a quiet space. Every moment I wasn’t taking an exam, sleeping, or eating, I was studying. The following two days were successful. I didn’t bomb anymore exams and made it through finals week with little disappointment. I was very proud with the recovery that I had made, yet I was still dissatisfied with my Calculus exam. I’ll always remember that in times of despair, hope can always be found. Never give up just because one part of the bigger picture is faded. Always look forward.