What a good blog looks like...

Hey there! :)

So today I'm finally gonna post about what or how a good blog looks like.
After looking up the blogs from the list of the best blogs from last year, I've seen that they've all got one thing in common. The posts are published on a regular basis, they're rich in variety and with a lot to read. And that's exactly how I think a good blog should look like. That's also how my blog should look like in the future. I don't assume that I will have problems with the variety, but I'll definitely have to try harder to be a consistent writer and providing longer texts. They are all posting about stuff they're interested in or passionate about. That's also what I would like to do. Even if some topics may do not seem so interesting to you lot in the first place, I still hope that maybe you'll enjoy reading about them, because of the way I'm writing about them.

From the list of last year's best blogs, here are my personal favourites:

• http://fortymillionminutes.blogspot.co.at/
• http://hashtagdavids.blogspot.co.at/
• http://aleksapaleksa.blogspot.co.at/search?updated-max=2013-10-26T19:34:00%2B02:00&max-results=3&start=6&by-date=false
• http://verenaandthecatssmile.blogspot.co.at/search?updated-max=2014-06-20T14:06:00-07:00&max-results=7

The ruins of North Brother Island

Welcome to New York!
Between Bronx and Queens lies a little island - the North Brother Island. Have you ever heard of it? Me neither, and actually that's not surprising. No one is allowed to set foot on the island. It's abandoned for about 50 years now.

                                                                                              Photo: Google Maps

North Brother Island lies in the Hell Gate, a narrow tidal strait in the East River. It got its name from the dutch word "Hellegat" due to the heavy currents in this area. Indeed, hundreds of ships sank in the 19th century, because of the difficulties they had to face when sailing through the Hell Gate. And actually it's still no piece of cake to master these currents.
South Brother Island is the other one of the two islands. They both were discovered in 1614, only a few years after Jamestown, but because of the above-mentioned currents, both isles stayed uninhabited until 1885. By that time, the city of New York decided to build a quarantine hospital on the northern island. Many, at that time, lethal diseases as leprosy, tuberculosis, smallpox or typhus were spreading all over New York. The Riverside Hospital - as it was called, was perfectly located. It was close to the city, but, on the other hand, also perfectly separated from it by water. By 1890, the hospital was bursting at the seams. The sanitary state must have been gruesome. Not only was there a lack of medical tools but also of personnel. And as if this wouldn't be enough, in 1904, a paddleboat sank in front of the island and over 1000 passengers died. Most of them were women and children of New York's German immigrant community. Only about 300 people survived and saved themselves onto North Brother Island with the help of the hospital staff.
Underneath the people living on the island was, unfortunately, also a famous one. Unfortunately, because the reason why this patient is famous, isn't really the best. I'm talking about Mary Mallon or also "Typhoid Mary".  Mallon emigrated from Ireland to the US and worked as a cook for affluent families. She was later identified as an asymptomatic carrier of the pathogen associated with typhoid fever. She was presumed to have infected 53 people, three of whom died, over the course of her career as a cook. She was twice forcibly isolated by public health authorities and died after a total of nearly three decades in isolation, in 1938. A short time after, the hospital was closed.
Nevertheless, the history of North Brother Island doesn't finish here. After the Second World War, veterans were living on the island for a few years, subsequently heroin junkies went there for rehab. Rumour has it that most of them weren't there of one's own free will and maybe that's also a reason why the rehab mostly wasn't really successful. Anyway the rehab centre closed its doors in 1964 and it's since then that the access to the island is denied.

                                                                                                            Photo: 2E

The whole island is ragged now. The hospital and the few other buildings are ruins. And so, this deserted island turned into a place of deep mystery and enchantment. It must give you goosebumps to stand somewhere on this isle, knowing the history, but not exactly what happened on here; seeing the red bricks of the walls fallen down, overgrown with ivy and other plants. I imagine it to be an extraordinary feeling, standing in one of those ruins, looking at pavements full with books. If it wouldn't be for the signs of the times, it just seems as no sooner you came than everyone left. It must be an awesome place to rediscover, to look for all the little details.

Now that you know a little bit about the island here's a link to a video on Vimeo so you can see for yourself:   http://vimeo.com/48640895

The queerest language?

Hey guys!

Some time ago I stumbled upon this lovely poem and I thought it might be worth to share it with you.

We'll begin with a box, and the plural is boxes,
But the plural of ox should be oxen, not oxes.
Then one fowl is goose, but two are called geese,
Yet the plural of moose should never be meese.
You may find a lone mouse or a whole lot of mice,
But the plural of house is houses, not hice.

If the plural of man is always called men,
Why shouldn't the plural of pan be called pen?
The cow in the plural may be cows or kine,
But a bow if repeated is never called bine,
And the plural of vow is vows, not vine.

If I speak of a foot and you show me your feet,
And I give you a boot would a pair be called beet?
If one is a tooth, and a whole set are teeth,
Why shouldn't the plural of booth be called beeth?

If the singular's this and the plural is these,
Should the plural of kiss ever be nicknamed keese?
Then one may be that and three would be those,
Yet hat in the plural would never be hose,
And the plural of cat is cats, not cose.

We speak of a brother, and also of brethren,
But though we say mother, we never say methren,
Then the masculine pronouns are he his and him,
But imagine the feminine she, shis and shim,

So the English, I think you will agree,
Is the queerest language you ever did see...

-Anonymous

I really enjoy this poem. It shows some of the difficulties of the English grammar. Were you struggling whilst learning these irregular plural noun forms? have you had problems finding the logic behind them? I don't think they're too hard to remember once that you know the right form, at least not with common used words. But finding the right plural of such an irregular noun, when you hear the word for the first time? I think that can be quite tricky sometimes, especially if you're trying to do it with some kind of logic behind it as seen in this poem. Anyway, I hope you liked it.