Story #43, CELTA Weeks 7-8

Some more factual information behind the CPE fiction article "The local hero". You can find a full article here https://www.nytimes.com/1995/10/05/nyregion/girl-s-death-is-attributed-to-rabid-bat.html

STORY #14 is about something that was supposed to help me stand out but instead sank me down.

You see the irony here, huh?

So where do I begin? This is the video I recorded for the #TheReservoirTimelapse contest run by #davidduchovny and #akashicbooks.

I had a bunch of ideas for the video but the point is that I gave up the idea of a sunset/sunrise right off the bat since it was an obvious choice. You just google the “time-lapse vid” and tell me what you see. Anyway, it had that being-like-everyone-doing-like-everyone ring to it.

I wanted to claim all the credit for my creation. But how can I claim credit for something that has always been there? I mean, I needed it to be the thing that’d not just be there, but be there because of me. I wanted to do something that would require effort. And somehow I was certain, it’d stand out in the flow of sunsets and sunrises. Like it would be waving at you — come here, look at me, here I am⠀- refreshing and original. Well, I believed t was entertaining, easy on the eyes, and unique. But maybe in the eyes of a stranger, it was nothing short of dull, mediocre, and unoriginal.

I lost. It took me about twenty minutes to wallow in my own misery, but then I thought “what the hell”? I can’t really blame the guy for wanting to see another record of the sun painting the sky with every color of the rainbow, can I? So what if the man has a penchant for looking at the sunrise-sunset-sun-sky-etc.-thing? It’s up to him. On a related note, I could use that as an opportunity to turn my loss into a win. So here I am - turning it into a story, for the sake of mastering my writing skills.

And this is what I have to say. It’s no big deal. It wasn’t the first time when I failed, and most likely not gonna be the last one. As DD so much likes to recall himself - try again, fail again, and for crying out loud - fail better.

P.s. Please, be gentle, I did that shit for the first time ever 😉 (painting by numbers, I mean).

P.p.s. I know I might sound a tad envious but this is benign envy! Chill out, I’m 100% happy for those who won.

Story #78 is a poem inspired by a 2-word prompt "I'm from"

In the box of my memories is my Granny’s garden with yellow cherries  and apples,

And a merry-go-round where I was dizzy and sick,

All those cherries - slimy white purée on my black polished shoes. 

In the box of my memories are old fashion magazines that belong in a toilet,

And brown acidic paint Mum brushed the floors with.

In the box of my memories are the solo trips of a six-year-old me through the maze of streets, 

The smell of halva I tended to buy after school

And the traces left by the sharp blades of scissors I fell onto, giving me scars and scares.

In the box of my memories are the late-night X-files reruns,

The smell of the dead in a morgue,

and 180 questions to swot for my forensic exam.

In the box of my memories is my white wedding dress, two babies breathing into my chest,

All my dreams -broken, forgotten, the ones that came true.

Let me put ‘em aside - those memories - and make more room for the things to come. 

Story #76. Based on the prompt: 'Surprise!' They cried, leaping out from behind the door.

“Surprise!” They cried leaping out from behind the door, and the glass of water she was holding, slipped out of her grasp and shuttered.  She bolted down to clean the mess and peered sideways at her unsolicited guests shifting from one leg to another. One of them, Tom - she recalled vaguely - tiptoed around the shards and intercepted her hand, reaching for paper napkins in the bottom drawer of the desk. 

“I’ll do that, don’t worry.”

The words broke the spell, prompting others to hurtle towards the couple on the floor. Flowers were put into vases, cake was set on the desk, candles were lit, and presents were stored in the corner of the room. 

“Didn’t mean to scare the shit out of you.”  Someone offered and the woman huffed a laugh.

She took a moment to meander around the office, gauging mentally whether she’d be able to take all the wrapped-up boxes and bouquets to her car in one go and then backed up and plonked down on the chair. A high tower of a cake leveled her eyes. 

“Make a wish,” Tom encouraged.

I’d like this day to start over, she said in her head and blew the candles.

Story #71 is about how I became a member of a 5 AM club.

Whenever I tell people that I usually wake up at the crack of dawn, their eyes go wide like two saucers. I then instantly bombarded with questions of how, why, and who on earth forces me out of my bed at such an ungodly hour. Once the initial shock settles though, and I share that getting up with the sun comes along with turning in with it, I'm rewarded with a look of utter disappointment. It is as if I was supposed to give them a magic pill of how to be an early riser maintaining a routine of a nightcrawler.

Sorry guys, you can’t expect to pop up eureka moments if your body’s basic need for sleep goes unmet. The membership at the club comes with a price - I gotta hit the hay before the ripe hour of ten.

So what’s the catch in being a lark? First and foremost, I have two completely quiet and uninterrupted hours to exercise, read, write and go over my agenda. Today my routine is heavily scripted - not a minute is wasted in vain. I also manage not to skip my breakfast (remember, it’s your most important meal of the day) and hardly ever feel rushed (bonus point: no added stress.) As a result, I feel accomplished well before most people hit the snooze button.

Ironically enough, the miracle morning of my first 5 AM awakening wasn’t miraculous at all. When my daughter was still a toddler, I put her to bed around nine. Since it isn’t uncommon for a newly-minted mother to feel extremely drained by the evening, I usually started snoring even before my little bundle of happiness/misery. As a result, my body had enough time to recharge its batteries, and by 4-5 AM I would wake up well-rested, replenished and all ready to jump on the world. Now I don’t even set an alarm - my biological clock is in perfect tune with my brain.

It’s possible that you already a morning person, it’s just your morning starts at 1 PM. Pun intended and achieved. But, if one day you choose to join the 5 AM club for real, I bet you will never find yourself mourning the fact that you’re no longer sleeping in the morning.

That's the story behind the fiction article about the local hero.

Story #6, CPE Review “Paradise Lost” by John Milton

Prompt⤵️

A literary magazine has invited readers to submit reviews of classical books that seem to have been undeservedly forgotten. You decide to submit a review of a forgotten classic you liked. Your review should briefly describe the book, explain why it deserves to be remembered, and assess the importance of classical literature.

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"Better to reign in Hell than to serve in Heaven." There's hardly a person who'd never heard these words from the monologue delivered by Satan in John Milton's work "Paradise Lost." In his quintessential poem, epic both in scale and ambition, Milton wrote in a state of total blindness, claiming to have divine inspirations that approached him nightly.

A tragic and powerful piece whose legacy didn’t endure as firmly as one of its remarkable quotes. Beautifully and somewhat encyclopaedically, Milton explores the ideas of salvation and redemption and tells a tale of a war that rages across Hell. Outlining the portions of the Bible, he puts the story of the Fall of Man in the center of his immense drama. A fallen angel, vain and full of pride, Satan is the projection of all too human temptations that compel readers subconsciously to sympathize with him.

“Paradise Lost" is a book of questions, daunting and intense, that deserves to be remembered. As you submerge deep into philosophical matters of the nature of a human being and its purpose on Earth, you are compelled to re-conceptualize entirely your ideas of Hell, Heaven, God, and Devil. What makes it even more valuable is a chance Milton hands over to readers to analyze the evolution of the English language through his poem's lines. "Paradise Lost" allegedly gave us more than five hundred English words, such as "satanic" or "terrific," and negative forms of already existing words like "irresponsible" or "unprincipled." It also provides us with a new angle to look at the overall poetic genre. The poem doesn't rhyme; instead, Milton uses blank-verse: ten-syllable metrical lines.

The book is a classic once it withstands the test of time. Classical literature encompasses different periods of history; therefore, it enhances our comprehension of human nature and sets the basis for broader vocabulary and a profound understanding of the language, its origins, and functions. Even though most classical characters we see in the canon books might not be applicable today, the message they carry is timeless, and their merits cannot be undermined.

X-Files fic recs

I'm still a bit of a Tumblr newbie, but it's about time I posted some fic recs.

This is a small sample of recent favourites - there's SO much good stuff out there, by some hella talented writers ❤️

I know I've missed some - let's call it Part 1!

The Unseelie Court by @slippinmickeys

Epic case file, gripping and masterfully written. This one was like watching an episode live, back in 1990-something.

The Course of True Love by XFNessy

Another brilliant long-haul read with great character development (I'm in awe of how people plan and structure long fics like this!)

The Finer Things by @spookyshipperfics

This was such a fun (train) ride. The premise had me gripped and there were some really tense moments (I also like a bit of Diana angst!)

Just Friends by @spookyshipperfics

I had to add another by Spooky Shipper. A more light-hearted (and hilarious) piece about Skinner fretfully observing his agents at a party.

California Dreaming by @heresince93

Really nice, well-written AU piece. Scully, a pediatrician with a young daughter, literally collides with a handsome guy (who now?) on her morning jog.

Here's a Hand in Thine by @leiascully

Mulder invites Scully to the Lone Gunmen's New Year's Eve party. This was so entertaining and I loved the tension.

Gingersnap by @cecilysass

This is such an original, fun fic. Scully is in a cookie-baking frenzy and Mulder tries to help (and cause mischief). In the midst of a hilarious scenario they are both still so in character, and I love that.

Shut up, Mulder by David S

Thanks to @thatfragilecapricorn30 (via @unremarkablehouse) for posting about this one on Tumblr, or I never would have seen it.

A brilliant, and highly hilarious, stakeout romp as Scully gets impatient and Mulder struggles with car sex logistics.

The clouds are raining cacao and cocaine by @meriwetherwrites

I need to read more Krycek fics. This was equal parts funny and hot. Mulder and Krycek investigate a small town where the inhabitants have seemingly lost their inhibitions. Need I say more.

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If I've incorrectly deduced you're not Tumblr - or I've tagged you incorrectly - please yell at me!

Story #61 "What is a good teacher?"

Originally written as a CELTA admission essay.

What is a good teacher? What qualities one should possess to be considered a poster child for teaching? And who is to tell a good teacher from the bad one, and make the final decision? They say “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” Perhaps, to an extent, it’s fair for a good vs. bad teacher as well.

When I did my TESOL course a year ago, I was asked to write an essay on my teaching philosophy, and at some point, I started contemplating what a good teacher was in my opinion, and whether I, myself, met those standards. I might repeat myself here with what I wrote in the past, but thinking back now, I stand by my words. 

I’m firmly convinced that a good teacher is a teacher who knows how to convey the information they prepared for the lesson and is able to present the material in a practicable and entertaining way, as well as be capable of engaging students in different communicative activities to provide them with vocabulary and grammar sufficient for successful communication. That kind of teacher knows the ultimate goal of any exercise they give and sets short-term and long-term aims for themselves and their students.

A good teacher knows how to encourage a student to use actively the learning strategies such as asking questions, making notes, and not being afraid of making mistakes. They can explain that experimenting with the language is impossible without mistakes, and get sure students feel confident enough in a classroom. As a rule, a good teacher sticks to the 80/20 strategy and knows how to reduce teacher talking time and increase student talking time.

They want to pass on not only their knowledge but their passion for languages and sow the seeds of the idea that any learning indeed is an exciting process a student can benefit from. A good teacher strives to show their students that there is no extrinsic motivation they need to study as they can find it within themselves. As a teacher, I try to be that source of motivation and enthusiasm for my students.

Story #69, which is a positive travel experience.

“Look, we gotta go there,” said my travel buddy Katya showing me the first photo that came out as she googled Austria. The photo showed the tiny alpine village of Hallstatt, nestled between a mountain and a lake with a mouthful of a name. 

The vista rendered me speechless and was enough of a reason to say yes to a holiday, yes to Austria, yes to Hallstatt.

Between us, Katya and I have five kids and the power to move mountains when it comes to traveling without them. Ironically enough, our choice fell on that postcard-perfect Instagram-worthy place at the heart of the Alps. 

Three train journeys, two soaked-through backpacks, and one ferry cruise across the lake later, we finally arrived in Hallstatt. The place, included in the top ten places to visit while in Austria, miraculously wasn’t swamped with tourists. We took a leisurely funicular ride to the skywalk observation deck, enjoyed a cup of Viennese coffee with a piece of the Sachertorte, walked up the path for another hour, and then set off on a hike back, all the way snapping away left, right and center.  

Snap and we were 900 meters above sea level. 

Snap and we were inside an old salt mine. 

Snap and we stood in front of the stained glass windows of the old Protestant Church on the main square.

Snap and we were back home, locking away new precious moments in a memory box along with a few hundreds of photos capturing those unforgettable instants.