Before this research paper I had never read Song of Solomon. Surprise (I'm such a bad student, aren't I?). And I'm glad I hadn't grabbed any old book--why? Because I have a terrible connection with most of them and hate revisiting explored ground. The options (of in-school books that would have been on the list. I have a much more interesting list of out-of-school books that would not have made the cut) starting from the earliest I can remember:
Peace Like a River- Allusions, Allusions, Allusions! This book would be great if it weren't so tightly knit together. What's more, I am the least religious person I know, and it's not that I hate books about religion, it's that I just don't have a connection to much of the ideas. More importantly, there wouldn't be much ground for speculation or controversy. All work has been done before me and I am quite certain I could sparknote it and write a decent paper (and probably get an A).
Great Expectations- I do not hate this book as much as most people. But that's not saying much. The problem here is that the work is less than a novel and more of a television series. I wonder if teachers will start idolizing One Tree Hill or Gossip Girl in the near future.
Beowulf and The Odyssey- I lump these together because, to be honest, I sometimes get them mixed up. It's probably because I remember sitting in class in the ninth grade, feeling awkwardly shy during discussions, and doodling all over my notes so as not to be screamed at. I also remember these books being read to me word for word. More so read at me than taught. Bad memories.
1984, Brave New World, Anthem, The Fountainhead- Dystopian literature sets me over the edge. How many times can we restsate the problems in our society? I clump these together because each paper would be saying the exact same thing. And don't think we could go about comparing and contrasting these, there is no hope-- the venn diagram would be one dystopian mass with its own gravitational constant.
Cry, the Beloved Country and Their Eyes Were Watching God- We should make a point about white supremacy and then kill every character in the novel. But for serious, I could consider doing a paper on these novels. Zora Neal Hurston's language is at least fluid and interesting. Paton also had the allusion thing going on in much less overt ways, which was refreshing.
Catcher and the Rye- Brings me back to the days when I used to write poetry starring my recurring character Gary the Canary. This was of course after the time when I used to spout emo musings about my violin or various other objects (mostly household appliances). It was a good time, not the worst of times, but saying hello to Holden after all this time might send me into regression (though Gary the Canary is worth revisiting).
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest- This is funny because before I actually read this, I read a book called Love Among the Walnuts and thought it was original. Silly me, I guess everyone wants a taste of Kesey's electric coolaid.
Huck Finn, In Cold Blood, Jane Eyre, and Into the Wild- I love these books too much to touch again. Just let it lie, why ruin that?
Catch-22 and The Great Gatsby- The other books I love enough to revisit and enjoy again. Especially Catch-22 because I have some weird emotional connection to a certain freshman relationship. The only reason I didn't pick these is because everyone else picked them, and I wanted to be original (or something). the other option was Fitzgerald's better novel (not This Side of Pardise, which actually sucked) Tender is the Night. But I guess it wouldn't have been any help to me at all on the ap exam because it wasn't on that spreadsheet.
In the end I was actually happy with my paper. My thesis--
Song of Solomon and Invisible Man both emphasize that the past is part of one’s identity through allusions and motifs; however, Invisible Man focuses on individual self-awareness apart from culture while Song of Solomon reaches identity through connection to culture.
I can really see how this paper could turn sour fast for some of my classmates. The problem is that by returning to some previously studied works, we regurgitate what we have already been told is true. Nothing is interesting, and like I said, I could probably write a paper on any one of these books in less than three hours using Sparknotes. I honestly had to stretch myself to even find a thesis for my paper. If I am correct, most everyone else's thesis went like this:
In [insert novel here], [insert author here] conveys that [insert theme here] through [insert literary technique here], [insert literary technique here], and [insert literary technique here].
Try typing any variance of your thesis into google. You will probably get a neatly packed response with a list of ideas that you could probably rip straight from wherever. Now paste my thesis into your toolbar. Incidentally, nothing of use comes up.
I'm sure the thesis was just as stale as the rest of the paper. And another one of the problems was that by the end of the process, which was stretched out well beyond what it should have been, I hated my paper. It's a shame because it's good work. It could have been really good if I had put it into prose and tightened it into a functional essay. The way it stands now, it will always be an uncompleted mass of what could have been.
So I guess what I'm trying to say is that to everyone out there who told me I was an idiot for choosing a random Toni Morrison book-------HA!
Ms. Marcy, good luck!
Cleo 5-7
AP Literature
Monday, March 7, 2011
Monday, February 28, 2011
Hope for us yet?
I've been hooked on tea lately. It's a curiosity-- as soon as I lose the floss I have been carting around for a few months, I switch to tea. I hope this doesn't mean that I will stop flossing my teeth entirely.
This week has been all sorts of panic attacks. The debate over the HOPE GPA raise to 3.7 will happen this Wednesday. It's sad. Our entire academic career has been based around the guarantee of a free education, and now at the point when we need it most, the rug is being ripped out from under us. The other day I found myself writing a letter to our dear Nathan Deal (who probably doesn't care because he has to meet budget demands) about the drastic changes. Take GPA from a 3.0 to a 3.5 and I understand, but a 3.7! Now to be clear, I didn't think this would affect me at all. Worked hard, good grades, challenging classes. Done. But now, in the face of an endless summer stuck in two part-time jobs, I am really too lazy to handle the burden. Why should I have to, considering I held up my end of the deal?
To lawmakers the change seems like business. But there are seriously kids out there who need the extra 10%, around 1,200 dollars, for books and a decent computer. I wouldn't have had a problem with these changes until I realized that the way to calculate hope gpa is less than fair. Take all of your core classes, subtract honors and ap points, add .5 points back for ap classes. Now, don't be fooled, sure the .5 may sound reasonable, but it is compensating for the fact that any B is a 3.0. Take an ap calc class and -gasp- earn an 86-- a decent grade, and maybe you even earned a 5 on the exam. But really that grade is a 3.5, less than the 3.7 needed for hope. Take your 3.5s and average them with the 4.0s (a 4.5 doesn't exist) and you will find that your A's actually do not balance out your B's. The system does not reward for A's, but really, punishes you for B's, or (horror) C's. It doesn't seem fair. There is a disparity between the way national AP curriculum is structured (in which you need to be challenged in order to learn) and the cracked way the state determines your academic worthiness.
I honestly yearn for socialized education. At least there is some guarantee in that.
This week has been all sorts of panic attacks. The debate over the HOPE GPA raise to 3.7 will happen this Wednesday. It's sad. Our entire academic career has been based around the guarantee of a free education, and now at the point when we need it most, the rug is being ripped out from under us. The other day I found myself writing a letter to our dear Nathan Deal (who probably doesn't care because he has to meet budget demands) about the drastic changes. Take GPA from a 3.0 to a 3.5 and I understand, but a 3.7! Now to be clear, I didn't think this would affect me at all. Worked hard, good grades, challenging classes. Done. But now, in the face of an endless summer stuck in two part-time jobs, I am really too lazy to handle the burden. Why should I have to, considering I held up my end of the deal?
To lawmakers the change seems like business. But there are seriously kids out there who need the extra 10%, around 1,200 dollars, for books and a decent computer. I wouldn't have had a problem with these changes until I realized that the way to calculate hope gpa is less than fair. Take all of your core classes, subtract honors and ap points, add .5 points back for ap classes. Now, don't be fooled, sure the .5 may sound reasonable, but it is compensating for the fact that any B is a 3.0. Take an ap calc class and -gasp- earn an 86-- a decent grade, and maybe you even earned a 5 on the exam. But really that grade is a 3.5, less than the 3.7 needed for hope. Take your 3.5s and average them with the 4.0s (a 4.5 doesn't exist) and you will find that your A's actually do not balance out your B's. The system does not reward for A's, but really, punishes you for B's, or (horror) C's. It doesn't seem fair. There is a disparity between the way national AP curriculum is structured (in which you need to be challenged in order to learn) and the cracked way the state determines your academic worthiness.
I honestly yearn for socialized education. At least there is some guarantee in that.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Mr. Bloomfield's Orchard
There is a reason I go to the library, and it is not to read books that have any relevance to my life. I go in to be surprised. And lucky me, I came out with the best book I have read in ages. Mr. Bloomfield's Orchard isn't just what the title states-- The mysterious world of mushrooms, molds, and mycologists --but really an analysis on human curiosity and discovery.
I never for once thought that mushrooms could be so exciting (and I miss the non-fiction novel, I should really read Stiff one more time). Bloomfield tells a story about how one of his colleagues left him a mushroom to identify. Well, Mr. Bloomfield had an appetite, so he cooked it into a stew and ate it for dinner. The colleague returned and asked him if he had identified the Boletus satanus, Satan's bolete, that he had left on Bloomfield's desk. "Amazed at my evident health, he walked away shaking his head. Satan's bolete cannot kill a mule, but it can make people shit themselves senseless...however, before swearing of all mushrooms, it is useful to acknowledge that products as innocent as Wonder bread probably have some detractors." I cannot explain my love for Mr. Bloomfield, just as I cannot explain my love for Ken Jennings's blog.
In the first chapter Mr. Bloomfield explains the nature of an oddly phallic like mushroom called the Stinkhorn. He recounts the story Charles Darwin's daughter, "For Victorians in England, sufficiently obsessed with sex to become excited by table legs, their appearance was too much to bear. As a mature woman, Charles Darwin's daughter Etty so despised stinkhorns that she mounted an anti-fungal jihad with the aid of gloves and a pointed stick. She burned the collections in secret, thereby protecting the purity of thought among her female servants." It is surprising that a mycologist could be so eccentric as to make me enjoy the study of mushrooms, as he says, "Even high school students are familiar with the warty, black zygospores of zygomycetes, although they spend far more time defiling textbook diagrams of human anatomy than understanding fungi." Haha
Wow, that was one big block quote, but still, Mr. Bloomfield is awesome :)
On a better note, this week I read Oscar Wilde's "The Nightingale and the Rose." It was sad, ironic, and painful. Sardonically beautiful.
(And I've also realized that Hans Christian Andersen's "The Little Mermaid" advocates women to shut-up and look pretty)
I never for once thought that mushrooms could be so exciting (and I miss the non-fiction novel, I should really read Stiff one more time). Bloomfield tells a story about how one of his colleagues left him a mushroom to identify. Well, Mr. Bloomfield had an appetite, so he cooked it into a stew and ate it for dinner. The colleague returned and asked him if he had identified the Boletus satanus, Satan's bolete, that he had left on Bloomfield's desk. "Amazed at my evident health, he walked away shaking his head. Satan's bolete cannot kill a mule, but it can make people shit themselves senseless...however, before swearing of all mushrooms, it is useful to acknowledge that products as innocent as Wonder bread probably have some detractors." I cannot explain my love for Mr. Bloomfield, just as I cannot explain my love for Ken Jennings's blog.
In the first chapter Mr. Bloomfield explains the nature of an oddly phallic like mushroom called the Stinkhorn. He recounts the story Charles Darwin's daughter, "For Victorians in England, sufficiently obsessed with sex to become excited by table legs, their appearance was too much to bear. As a mature woman, Charles Darwin's daughter Etty so despised stinkhorns that she mounted an anti-fungal jihad with the aid of gloves and a pointed stick. She burned the collections in secret, thereby protecting the purity of thought among her female servants." It is surprising that a mycologist could be so eccentric as to make me enjoy the study of mushrooms, as he says, "Even high school students are familiar with the warty, black zygospores of zygomycetes, although they spend far more time defiling textbook diagrams of human anatomy than understanding fungi." Haha
Wow, that was one big block quote, but still, Mr. Bloomfield is awesome :)
On a better note, this week I read Oscar Wilde's "The Nightingale and the Rose." It was sad, ironic, and painful. Sardonically beautiful.
(And I've also realized that Hans Christian Andersen's "The Little Mermaid" advocates women to shut-up and look pretty)
Monday, February 7, 2011
Untitled
Exhausted, scratching at brain, hoping something will come off like dandruff (gross!) Go to library, research ideas for a story, end up checking out a book on funny looking mushrooms. Go to work, gossip about co-workers, come home, sleep, wake up, play violin, take a moody shower. And that's about it.
I am a little disappointed in the outlines. I am worried that formatting might be going a little too far. Last semester's annotated bibliographies dragged down my average because my header wasn't positioned at the right place on the pages. Grammar, grammar, structure, structure! Not that I can blame you Ms. Marcy, I understand how atrocious these papers can be, but I just want to say that I hope it isn't like this in college. Nothing is better than writing a rough outline and then feeling my way through a paper while watching it magically develop (I guess that is why we are now being subjected to this torture).
Also, my paper isn't on Invisible Man, it's on Song of Solomon. I don't want an even compare/contrast between the two. I want it to be 60/40 or even 65/35 because I feel as though my audience (that is, you) has a background on Invisible Man and doesn't need a walk through of every allusion. The focus, I feel, is not proving that Invisible Man is about individualism, it is about proving that Song of Solomon is not about individualism. So I want to treat the elements in Invisible Man more like assumptions because, I feel, that will make a more sophisticated paper.
I am excited to discuss more existentialism in class. Nothing is better than thought-provoking debates. The only thing I ask is that everyone keeps an open mind and remembers the Little Prince! :D
I am a little disappointed in the outlines. I am worried that formatting might be going a little too far. Last semester's annotated bibliographies dragged down my average because my header wasn't positioned at the right place on the pages. Grammar, grammar, structure, structure! Not that I can blame you Ms. Marcy, I understand how atrocious these papers can be, but I just want to say that I hope it isn't like this in college. Nothing is better than writing a rough outline and then feeling my way through a paper while watching it magically develop (I guess that is why we are now being subjected to this torture).
Also, my paper isn't on Invisible Man, it's on Song of Solomon. I don't want an even compare/contrast between the two. I want it to be 60/40 or even 65/35 because I feel as though my audience (that is, you) has a background on Invisible Man and doesn't need a walk through of every allusion. The focus, I feel, is not proving that Invisible Man is about individualism, it is about proving that Song of Solomon is not about individualism. So I want to treat the elements in Invisible Man more like assumptions because, I feel, that will make a more sophisticated paper.
I am excited to discuss more existentialism in class. Nothing is better than thought-provoking debates. The only thing I ask is that everyone keeps an open mind and remembers the Little Prince! :D
Monday, January 31, 2011
Oh what a beautiful mornin'...
So we just finished King Lear, and I just finished Just Friends, a memoir by Patti Smith that details her unbreakable friendship with Robert Mapplethorpe. There is no reason I have just talked about these two works side-by-side. You cannot compare them, but each of them has made me think if only a little.
I cannot blame King Lear for wanting to be loved. Perhaps he went about it the wrong way, and maybe he was a bit pre-mature in allotting his kingdom to his daughters (but it needed to happen at some point). The parallel with Gloucester, I think, emphasized Shakespeare's motif of disguise and deception. The only way I can look at this play is by envisioning two trains about to intersect, and I am not sure if much could have been done to stop it. Oh sure, King Lear could have listened to his advisers, but that never gets anyone anywhere. And Gloucester should not have talked about Edmund's mother like that.
On to the more interesting stuff. I've always wondered what I would do with my life. Truth be told, I don't have an interest in anything. I don't like math or science, and literature, for the most part, keeps me entertained but not much else. Patti Smith and Robert Mapplethorpe were literally starving artists. And it's weird too-- it seems as if Patti Smith had never been an artist until she left for New York and met Mapplethorpe. She moved from one medium to the other, experimenting in drawing, poetry, and finally music (how someone acquires musical ability in such a short time I will never know). She and Mapplethorpe lived at the Chelsea for some time and took part in the tail end of the Andy Worhol hysteria. It was as if all she did was decide "I'm going to be an artist today." And I'm really annoyed too. I'm waiting for the time when something will interest me and I find a calling.
I'm sure most of you know that Mapplethorpe died of AIDS. When I read this part of the memoir I nearly choked. I knew it was coming, but nonetheless, it was sad, not only because it was heart-wrenching, but because it was real and it had happened. It has been too long since I have read a non-fiction novel (does this classify as a non-fiction novel? it should) and I have forgotten how much of a greater impact stories have when they are true and written in words that a reader can relate to.
Okay, back to work. And we played through some of the Oklahoma! music today. So excited!
I cannot blame King Lear for wanting to be loved. Perhaps he went about it the wrong way, and maybe he was a bit pre-mature in allotting his kingdom to his daughters (but it needed to happen at some point). The parallel with Gloucester, I think, emphasized Shakespeare's motif of disguise and deception. The only way I can look at this play is by envisioning two trains about to intersect, and I am not sure if much could have been done to stop it. Oh sure, King Lear could have listened to his advisers, but that never gets anyone anywhere. And Gloucester should not have talked about Edmund's mother like that.
On to the more interesting stuff. I've always wondered what I would do with my life. Truth be told, I don't have an interest in anything. I don't like math or science, and literature, for the most part, keeps me entertained but not much else. Patti Smith and Robert Mapplethorpe were literally starving artists. And it's weird too-- it seems as if Patti Smith had never been an artist until she left for New York and met Mapplethorpe. She moved from one medium to the other, experimenting in drawing, poetry, and finally music (how someone acquires musical ability in such a short time I will never know). She and Mapplethorpe lived at the Chelsea for some time and took part in the tail end of the Andy Worhol hysteria. It was as if all she did was decide "I'm going to be an artist today." And I'm really annoyed too. I'm waiting for the time when something will interest me and I find a calling.
I'm sure most of you know that Mapplethorpe died of AIDS. When I read this part of the memoir I nearly choked. I knew it was coming, but nonetheless, it was sad, not only because it was heart-wrenching, but because it was real and it had happened. It has been too long since I have read a non-fiction novel (does this classify as a non-fiction novel? it should) and I have forgotten how much of a greater impact stories have when they are true and written in words that a reader can relate to.
Okay, back to work. And we played through some of the Oklahoma! music today. So excited!
Monday, January 24, 2011
Without Fear of Wind or Vertigo
We're drawing near to the end of King Lear, and I am excited to start something new. Don't get me wrong, I love the acting in King Lear, but now that we have read it, I am upset that we didn't read Hamlet. As was said in class, "Reading King Lear will give you an advantage on the exam because everyone will be writing on Hamlet." Okay, sure that might give us an edge, but where does that leave the student? Great, we will be the only ones who haven't read Hamlet. But I shouldn't be complaining; I'm sure both plays are equally as interesting and integral to our education.
That being said, I am wondering when this creative writing will begin again, or if that was just talk. Not sure, but I am super excited for my directed study on fairy tales this semester. I just finished a fairy tale called "The Selfish Giant" by Oscar Wilde (did anyone else know that Oscar Wilde wrote fairy tales?) and I actually really liked it for its simplicity. It's funny-- now that I'm reading into it, fairy tales are a creepy way for writers to regress into their childhoods. I can't decide if that's a good thing or not. Either way, I will be writing, narrating, and accompanying my own fairy tale :D
And it is also great seeing the progression of fairy tales. The earliest version of Snow White included a poisonous comb, which moved on to a very tight corset, and then a poisonous apple, which is cured by Prince Charming's love (also something about cats who turn into princes). In fact, the story goes that the prince found Snow White and bought her off the dwarves, and then Prince Charming dropped her casket so as to dislodge the poisonous apple from her throat (the Disney version is so much more romantic!) And also the violence which befalls the evil queen-- boots full of hot coals or simply a burning. What surprised me the most is that this Snow White does not reflect a mother's jealousy of a daughter's youth, as the stories might suggest, but rather a young girl imagining being abused by her mother/step-mother because she is jealous of the attention her father gives her mother. Freud is everywhere!
Anyways, I went to see 127 Hours this weekend and wound up sitting way too close to the screen. Suffice it to say, later that night I suffered from an uncomfortable bout of vertigo, which reminded about this chapter I read in If on a Winter's Night a Traveler ages ago (if anyone was curious about the title of this post). If you are into stream of consciousness or just plain scatter-brainedness, then maybe you should read it.
That being said, I am wondering when this creative writing will begin again, or if that was just talk. Not sure, but I am super excited for my directed study on fairy tales this semester. I just finished a fairy tale called "The Selfish Giant" by Oscar Wilde (did anyone else know that Oscar Wilde wrote fairy tales?) and I actually really liked it for its simplicity. It's funny-- now that I'm reading into it, fairy tales are a creepy way for writers to regress into their childhoods. I can't decide if that's a good thing or not. Either way, I will be writing, narrating, and accompanying my own fairy tale :D
And it is also great seeing the progression of fairy tales. The earliest version of Snow White included a poisonous comb, which moved on to a very tight corset, and then a poisonous apple, which is cured by Prince Charming's love (also something about cats who turn into princes). In fact, the story goes that the prince found Snow White and bought her off the dwarves, and then Prince Charming dropped her casket so as to dislodge the poisonous apple from her throat (the Disney version is so much more romantic!) And also the violence which befalls the evil queen-- boots full of hot coals or simply a burning. What surprised me the most is that this Snow White does not reflect a mother's jealousy of a daughter's youth, as the stories might suggest, but rather a young girl imagining being abused by her mother/step-mother because she is jealous of the attention her father gives her mother. Freud is everywhere!
Anyways, I went to see 127 Hours this weekend and wound up sitting way too close to the screen. Suffice it to say, later that night I suffered from an uncomfortable bout of vertigo, which reminded about this chapter I read in If on a Winter's Night a Traveler ages ago (if anyone was curious about the title of this post). If you are into stream of consciousness or just plain scatter-brainedness, then maybe you should read it.
Monday, January 17, 2011
La Noyee
Wow, a ten day weekend, and I still don't have my work done. I did read a lot of Steven Pinker though.
For those of you who don't know, I have decided to take up the accordion. Maybe it was on a whim (as are most things I do) but I have had a fascination with the accordion for a really long time. It may seem like an obscure, dorky instrument, but if you listen closely to commercials on t.v. or songs by your favorite bands, you might be surprised to find that the accordion is pretty ubiquitous.
Yesterday I waltzed into a monthly meeting of the Atlanta Accordion Club. I think I was the only one there who was under the age of 50. The first challenge I had was actually transporting my accordion to the meeting place, which included me finding a parking garage and then walking down the street with an accordion strapped around my shoulders. "Hey, what's up I play accordion."
When I walked into the meeting, the first thing Biff (I can't believe I actually met someone named Biff!), the club president, did was write my name into the line-up. Basically everyone performs a maximum of three songs. "If you feel too nervous to perform, don't worry about it."
"No, I want to."
Surprisingly, I wasn't nervous. A couple invited me to sit with them, so I sat and chatted about the accordion and my college plans as if they were grandparents I was trying to impress. We drank lemonade and listened to the other performances, which included a bunch of sad songs from the 50s (okay, pretty cool music actually) until it was my turn. I walked up to the stage, strapped the accordion on and said, "So I've only been playing for a couple of weeks. Criticism is appreciated."
I played a French waltz. I don't even remember being nervous because everyone at the meeting was old and accepting. Once I got into the music, it was as if I wasn't even a beginner. I struck the last chord and everyone clapped. They were all amazed that I had only been playing for a couple of weeks.
"You going to play us some more?"
"That's all I got-- two weeks of work right there."
From there people gave me compliments, including a man who had played accordion in Epcot Center for 20 years. They offered to give me accordion lesson books and new straps to replace my rotting leather ones. A woman approached me and said that I gave her courage because, although she had been playing accordion for 20 years or so, she was too nervous to perform.
All in all, Accordion Club was a great new experience.
For those of you who don't know, I have decided to take up the accordion. Maybe it was on a whim (as are most things I do) but I have had a fascination with the accordion for a really long time. It may seem like an obscure, dorky instrument, but if you listen closely to commercials on t.v. or songs by your favorite bands, you might be surprised to find that the accordion is pretty ubiquitous.
Yesterday I waltzed into a monthly meeting of the Atlanta Accordion Club. I think I was the only one there who was under the age of 50. The first challenge I had was actually transporting my accordion to the meeting place, which included me finding a parking garage and then walking down the street with an accordion strapped around my shoulders. "Hey, what's up I play accordion."
When I walked into the meeting, the first thing Biff (I can't believe I actually met someone named Biff!), the club president, did was write my name into the line-up. Basically everyone performs a maximum of three songs. "If you feel too nervous to perform, don't worry about it."
"No, I want to."
Surprisingly, I wasn't nervous. A couple invited me to sit with them, so I sat and chatted about the accordion and my college plans as if they were grandparents I was trying to impress. We drank lemonade and listened to the other performances, which included a bunch of sad songs from the 50s (okay, pretty cool music actually) until it was my turn. I walked up to the stage, strapped the accordion on and said, "So I've only been playing for a couple of weeks. Criticism is appreciated."
I played a French waltz. I don't even remember being nervous because everyone at the meeting was old and accepting. Once I got into the music, it was as if I wasn't even a beginner. I struck the last chord and everyone clapped. They were all amazed that I had only been playing for a couple of weeks.
"You going to play us some more?"
"That's all I got-- two weeks of work right there."
From there people gave me compliments, including a man who had played accordion in Epcot Center for 20 years. They offered to give me accordion lesson books and new straps to replace my rotting leather ones. A woman approached me and said that I gave her courage because, although she had been playing accordion for 20 years or so, she was too nervous to perform.
All in all, Accordion Club was a great new experience.
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