For my capstone, I inquired about the lives of the homeless men in Philadelphia. I wanted to know why people treat the homeless like trash or lesser citizens. This question could really only be answered through my own reflection of my experiences from the past year, but there isn’t just one simple answer. I spent a lot of time volunteering at a shelter for men who have been homeless for over a year and were recovering from addictions. I spent a lot of my time playing checkers with the men and I learned so much about the issue with being closed minded in modern society. I was a stranger who came in with a camera, and they were happy to meet me and tell me about their lives. They made lots of jokes at my expense, but I really appreciated there welcoming towards me.
For my presentation portion of this project, I created a website. This site holds all of my best photography from the past year and a page is dedicated to the time and photos I have from the shelter. This website is the stepping stone to my career as a photographer. I strive to continue working and taking better images that can tell their own stories. I hope you enjoy the work I have done as much as I do.
This body of work is mostly focused on my friend's band that I spent time taking photos of. I went to their band practice and took a lot of great photographs. I was able to get a lot with perfect timing. I spend weeks editing my photos. It takes a lot of focus, and I am a perfectionist about my photo editing.
I know I didn't exactly do the collage correctly, but it is mostly just things I found interesting and funny. I will spend more time looking for strips of color so that I can make a real artistic collage.
I worked on the drawing a lot more this quarter. I want to learn how to draw hands really well, because they are super challenging. I liked drawing fabric. I learned how to draw draping fabric and I thought it was interesting so I made it as detailed as I could make it.
I am determined to do better on my drawings. My photography has gotten really good too, I have a specific style in the way that I take photos and the ways that I edit them.
- 3 zucchinis sliced long
- 1 jar of tomato sauce
- 1 pound of ground turkey or beef (optional)
- 1 can of tomatoes
- 1 onion chopped
- 1 12oz container of ricotta cheese
- 16oz various shredded cheeses
- 1 bunch of basil
- 1 beaten egg
- 1 pinch of nutmeg
- Pre-heat oven to 375 degrees.
- Sauté onions until golden over medium heat.
- Then brown ground beef or turkey in the sautéed onions.
- Then add the sauce and tomatoes and let that simmer.
- Mix the ricotta, the beaten egg, nutmeg, 4oz mozzarella and parmesan cheese together.
- Grab dish for lasagna.
- Place the sauce at the bottom for first layer
- Begin layering the zucchini layer (salting slices to draw out moisture if wanted), then ricotta mixture layer, sauce again, then the shredded cheese.
- Repeat this process until you have completed 3-4 full layers.
- Place basil on top.
- Cover the dish with foil and bake for half an hour then let rest for 15 minutes and serve!
Diane Arbus: Portrait Photographer
Diane Arbus was an American portrait photographer. She was known for her black-and-white images of odd or marginal people, such as circus performers, transgenders, and dwarves.
She was born in 1923 in New York City to a wealthy family. Her parents owned a popular department store on Fifth Avenue, called Russek’s, who specialized in furs. She wasn’t affected by the Great Depression during the 1930s. When she was eighteen, she married her childhood sweetheart, Allan Arbus. They had two daughters together, Doon and Amy.
Allan went to school for photography. He was a photographer for the Vietnam War for the U.S. army Signal Corps. After the war, he became a fashion photographer for ads, commercials, and Russek’s. Diane played her role as her husband’s assistant and sometimes fashion stylist.
In 1956, Diane quit the commercial photography business to study under another photographer. She worked on assignment for Harper’s Bazaar and Esquire. She was doing her own photo projects in her freetime. This is when she began developing her own type of style and artistic interests. The separation from the business eventually led to their marriage separation in 1959.
Diane’s style of photography wasn’t simple. Each image was very important and thought through. She would spend weeks with a subject, following them home, and talking or listening to them. Diane Arbus took some of the most influential and honest portraits ever seen, and she was never very well known for the beautiful work she did.
In the 1960s, she taught photography at Parson’s School for Design and the Cooper Union in New York. Her first big exhibition of her work was at the MoMA in 1967, it was called “New Documents”.Diane Arbus experienced depressive bouts throughout her life, sometimes changed her mood, or caused by symptoms of Hepatitis. July 26, 1971, she committed suicide in her New York apartment by taking barbiturates and slashing her wrists with a razor, she was 48 years old.
Annie Leibovitz: Portrait Photographer
Annie Leibovitz is considered one of America’s best portrait photographers. She trademarked her style very early in her career when working for Rolling Stone magazine.
She was born October 2nd, 1949 in Waterbury, Connecticut. Her father was a lieutenant colonel in the U.S. Air Force. Annie and her five siblings moved around a lot with their father’s assignments. Her first pictures were taken when her father was stationed in the Philippines during the Vietnam War.
She studied painting at the San Francisco Art Institute. After college, she worked different jobs while she was experimenting with photography, including volunteering at a kibbutz in Amir, Israel during 1969.
In 1970, she applied for a job at Rolling Stone magazine, Jann Wenner was so impressed with her portfolio, she was hired as a staff photographer. Within two years, in 1973, Wenner promoted her to chief photographer, the position she held for 10 years. When Leibovitz was working for the magazine, she was given the opportunity to photograph some of most influential musicians and celebrities in history. She had a style of portrait photography that used color so intensely for mood and poses of the body that wasn’t being published anywhere else. She produced some of the most thought provoking images of her time. Her style of photography made a very specific image for what we know and love about Rolling Stone magazine and their photographs.
She is most well known for her photograph of a nude John Lennon curled around his fully clothed wife, Yoko Ono, taken on December 8, 1980, just hours before his death.
Leibovitz left Rolling Stone in 1983, began working for Vanity Fair. Her subjects were more ranged when she worked for the entertainment magazine. This is where she took the iconic images of pregnant, Demi Moore, and Whoopi Goldberg submerged in a bathtub of milk.
In 1987, she won a Clio Award for her portraits for an American Express “Membership” Campaign. In 1991, her collection of black-and-white prints were put in an exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery in Washington, DC.
She has had exhibits, nominations for prestigious awards, books of her work, all that are glorifying the incredible images she has taken throughout her life.
Vivian Maier: Life Story
Vivian Maier was born on February 1, 1926. She was born in New York City and spent much of her childhood in France. When she returned to the United States, she worked as a nanny in Chicago, Illinois for almost forty years. During that time, she took more than 100,000 photos. Most of her images were of people on the streets or cityscapes of Chicago.
In 1951, Vivian Maier moved from France to New York. She was 25 years old. When she moved back she worked in a sweatshop. She made her way to Chicago by 1956.
Almost all of the images that Vivian Maier took in the forty years of photographing the streets of Chicago were left undeveloped in the homes of families she had nannied for. She kept boxes of mostly negatives that she had shot with her Rolliflex camera. Towards the end of her life she lived off of social security income and the children that she had nannied for, bought her an apartment in Chicago. In 2008, she slipped on ice and was hurt. She eventually passed away in April of 2009 at the age of 83.
A few years ago, a local historian in Chicago, named John Maloof, purchased a box of Maier’s negatives. Vivian Maier never planned to use her images to be known for. She kept them undeveloped and unseen. She used it as a hobby that passed the time when she took her walks through the city. So she could capture every interesting thing she discovered.
Street photography is taking images of real world, candid shots of modern life. They are unaltered images of the human condition in public places. This type of photography is very similar to another subject documentary photography. This is taking shots of neighborhoods and documenting the architecture and the culture of the ages.
Eugéne Atget: Pioneer of Documentary Photography
Eugéne Atget was born in Libourne, France in 1857. He is so commonly remembered for pioneering what is known as documentary photography. This type of photography is somewhat very similar to street photography which is more common now. Eugéne Atget is remembered for his initiative to document all of the architecture and street scenes of Paris before they disappeared into modernization.
Like so many famous artists, many of his photographs weren’t published until after his death. He began to become recognized by other photographers just two years before his death.
Eugéne Atget’s parents both passed away during his young adolescence. His maternal grandparents raised him in Bordeaux and after finishing high school, he went into the merchant navy.
Atget moved to Paris in 1878. He auditioned for acting classes and failed the first time, and then was allowed in when he auditioned again. He was still drafted during the time he was in drama school, and he was expelled for only being able to be there part-time.
While living in Paris, he became an actor with a traveling group. They stayed in and around Paris still. He met his wife, Valentine Delafosse Compagnon, who was an actress in Paris. She died just a few years after they were married. Eugéne Atget gave up on his acting career in 1887, due to an infection of his vocal cords. After he gave up on his acting, he moved to the provinces and took up painting, but was not successful.
Realizing he would never have a career in painting, he still spent his life as an amateur painter. His first photographs date back to 1888. In 1890, Atget moved back to Paris. He settled down as a commercial photographer, and put on a sign on his door that read, “Documents for Artists.”
In 1898, Eugéne Atget began to specialize in what is known as “Old Paris.” This became his project for nearly 30 years. This idea of old Paris was a campaign to preserve and document pre-revolutionary architecture. Many of Atget’s photographs are of building facades and the streets of Paris, because he felt that he needed to document and archive the city before the construction of Paris Métro.
Atget stopped taking pictures almost entirely after the First World War (1914-1918). In 1920, Atget offered to sell a portion of his glass-plate negatives to the government. He wrote a letter to the Minister of the Fine Arts and wrote, “For more than 20 years I have been working alone and of my own initiative in all the old streets of Old Paris to make a collection of 18 x 24 [centimeter] photographic negatives: artistic documents of beautiful urban architecture from the 16th to the 19th centuries. . . . Today this enormous artistic and documentary collection is finished; I can say I possess all of Old Paris." The government purchased almost 3,000 of Atget’s negatives for 10,000 francs.In the 1920s, Atget became noticed in modern art’s avant-garde. This wasn’t long before his death in August of 1927.
The Scream by Edvard Munch
The Awkward Type
‘Eleanor and Park’ By Rainbow Rowell
When I first began reading the book Eleanor and Park, I expected it to be a story about love and music. I never expected the rest. I bought the book because my teacher rated it five stars. So it must be great. She was right. I am not one to read stories about teenage love. Most of my book choices are about people with psychological issues. Reading about teenage love always felt so cliché. Every little girl wants to fall in love and have a perfect life, but I never believed in love like this book made me believe. This book truly captured the imperfect side of love. Where it is unintentional, straining, and very awkward.
Eleanor and Park is a fictional novel written by Rainbow Rowell. This is Rainbow Rowell’s first novel for young adults. It is a story with love, misfits, and great music references.
and the most incredible descriptions of how love truly is. The book is set in 1986, and spans from September and through the school year.
Eleanor is the main character. Eleanor has bright red hair. She is chubby and pasty white with freckles all over. She is also made fun of by the popular kids in school for her hair, being visibly poor, dressing like a boy, and because she is a bigger girl, but not fat, more curvy. Eleanor has three brothers and one sister. They are all younger than her. Her stepfather is Richie. This book begins when she is moving back to her mother’s house because her stepfather kicked her out a year before. This man is the antagonist. He is scary, but in a deadbeat, always drunk, cursing at small children for wetting the bed and screaming at his wife who is crying because she is just afraid, type of scary. None of them can get away though.
Park was a very innocent character. His examples of love were so powerful, unlike Eleanor’s examples. His mother is from Korea and his father was stationed in Korea after the Vietnam War. They fell in love and he brought her back to America. Park’s parents are still in love and they are just always happy with each other. Rainbow Rowell does an excellent way of showing all of the different “types” of love that can be. Park is the weird kid on the bus, who wears black clothes and listens to punk music. He isn’t made fun of for being different because he has lived in the neighborhood his whole life and in the 6th grade he dated the popular girl.
Eleanor and Park meet on the school bus. She was lost and nobody wanted to sit next to the new girl that had fake pearls on and patched up jeans. Park just curses at her to sit down though. It takes months for them to have any type of conversation. They sit quietly and try so hard to not make eye contact. One day, Park realizes that Eleanor is reading his comics over his shoulder. He starts bringing her other comics to read. He gives her stacks and she always brings them back smelling like a field of roses. On the day that Park forgets to grab the stack of comics for her is the first day they say anything to each other. They begin talking about music.
“You can be Han Solo," he said, kissing her throat. "And I'll be Boba Fett. I'll cross the sky for you.” This is a quote from the book. I want to explain my reaction to just this line. I read this quote before I got to where it was in the book because of a website called ‘Goodreads.’ I was reading a review and I knew that I needed to read this book because of this line. The way that Rowell writes this line made me so excited. The reference is from Star Wars. A few times during the book, Eleanor and Park talk about Star Wars, and how they’re love is like that. I knew that I needed to read this book because this “nerd love” is the best kind of relationship to me. I fell in love before I began reading. This book is stocked full of these very graphic descriptions. Most are about the love story and I swooned at every one. Rowell gave the same power in her descriptions of everything that you didn’t know could scare you or make you want to cry.
This book was just incredible to me. I felt everything that both characters were feeling. I cried when the book ended because all I wanted to do was read more and have their story live on forever. Everytime Park had to remind Eleanor how he felt about her, I fell in love and wished I could find this fictional character and have him love me. These two characters are very awkward. They aren’t outgoing and they try to stay invisible, or just be. When they meet, sit together, and finally speak, they are noticed by everyone. The hand-holding between Eleanor and Park is written so intense. Park says, “Holding Eleanor's hand was like holding a butterfly. Or a heartbeat. Like holding something complete, and completely alive.” Rainbow Rowell did an incredible job of writing about this type of love and the only part of the book that fell short was how it ends. I won’t give it away though. I just wanted the book to go on forever.
In the New York Times, John Greene wrote in his review, “Eleanor & Park reminded me not just what it’s like to be young and in love with a girl, but also what it’s like to be young and in love with a book.” I am young, and I don’t have a very good understanding of what love will be like when I find it, but I know exactly what it is like to fall in love with a book, and I can’t wait to reread this book and fall in love all over again. Mark Twain once said, “Books are for people who wish they were somewhere else.” This quote spoke true while I was reading Eleanor and Park. Rainbow Rowell creates an excellent picture that engages the reader so deeply that they forget about the real world and their life is in this novel.
The day after I finished reading Eleanor & Park, I immediately began reading her book ‘Attachments’. I am not very far into the book, I know that it is a struggle to get into this book because it isn’t much like Eleanor and Park besides also being a love story. Being a teenager, I find it so much easier to read about people my own age. It gives me a better connection so I can feel like I am in the book and this is my other life.
Eleanor and Park by Rainbow Rowell.
Publisher: St. Martin’s Press.
Published: February 2013.
328 pages.Work of fiction.
IAGO (Act 5, Scene 1) Page 254
(Moves to side to show other characters on stage aren’t the focus.)
I have rubbed this young quat almost to the sense,
(He would look at Othello and speak, but Othello can’t hear him.)
And he grows angry. Now, whether he kill Cassio
(Phrased as a question, he may say this TO audience.)
Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other,
Every way makes my gain.
(All of these lines are sad for Iago. He says this to himself, but it is sad because he knows Roderigo has caught on to his mischief.)
He calls me to a restitution large
Of gold and jewels that I bobbed from him
As gifts to Desdemona.
It must not be. If Cassio do remain
He hath a daily beauty in his life
That makes me ugly. And besides, the Moor
May unfold me to him—there stand I in much peril.
(Said to audience so they know that whatever happens, Othello must die.)
No, he must die. But so, I hear him coming.
Besides my notes, I noticed in this scene/soliloquy that Iago has a lot going on. He is so involved in his secrets that he confused himself. Iago needs to talk to himself through this scene but still addressing the audience so they understand his plan to make sure Othello dies, that he wants Roderigo to live, how he will get Othello to finally snap and kill Cassio for the lies he has been told about him. Iago may be confused if he wants Roderigo to live or not. Roderigo knows that Iago stole gifts from him that were meant for Desdemona. But he can’t let that happen.
Nowhere in the scene did I see Iago question or speak up to a God. He is so invested in his own ego and power that he has no space to think of someone else watching his every move.
Iago knows that whatever happens, something will work in his favor, because all all, he is the mighty puppet master.
Secondary Character: Cassio
Appears in Act 2, Scene 3; When Iago gets Cassio drunk, Cassio gets into a fight with Roderigo and Montano, and then Othello sees him drunk and fires Cassio from his job as lieutenant.
Appears in Act 3 with Desdemona when he begs her to convince the Moor to give back his job.
Then, in the scene where Iago hides Othello so that he can talk to Cassio about Bianca, though, Othello believes Cassio is laughing about Desdemona. Cassio speaks of how he is only her customer, and she has fallen in love with him, while describing hsi relationship with Bianca.. This makes Othello angry because he believes Cassio is calling Desdemona a prostitute.
Cassio is extremely vulnerable throughout the play. Iago makes him the main character of his evil plan to break apart Desdemona and Othello, and gets Othello so angry with Cassio that he wants dead.
First hand, Cassio observes very little. He isn’t given the chance to be around because Iago tells lies and makes everyone hate him. Iago tells Cassio to get drunk, tells him to talk to Desdemona to get his job back.
Cassio is a very innocent character. He only wants his job; and in Cyprus he has Bianca. Bianca was his prostitute who fell in love with him. Cassio’s judgement was impaired by Iago and then loss full control over his life.
Emilia is a middle aged woman, maybe around 35 though. She married Iago at a young age , because of her parents’ pressure for her finding a spouse. She is low maintenance and has really stopped loving Iago. She sees first hand how cruel and conniving he has become, and she has known him a very long time.
Throughout the play, Emilia realizes the difference in how Iago treats her, and knows she can’t cross him. She sees the anger in his eyes and guards herself and Desdemona for as long as she can. When she learns that Iago’s plans worked and Othello killed her, she finally reveals the truth She has never been afraid of Iago, only weary for the lives that would have been harmed. Taking care of Desdemona was Emilia’s way of saying how sorry she was for whatever her future was, because nothing Iago planned could turn out good for anyone but himself.
Prepare for Presentation
For this performance and part, I need to express much emotion. I have to move around a little, because in my interpretation of this last scene as Emilia is that she is quite frightened by the fact that Othello killed Desdemona, then she is also with Iago in this scene. Emilia knows about all the lies her husband has told to manipulate people throughout the play.
Emilia is also dying at the end of this scene, so I have to get myself on the ground a certain way. I am stabbed by Iago, and I fall as I say my last line. Then Othello lays next to me, and stabs himself once he knows he killed the woman he loved when she was innocent of everything.
My prop which is also my costume is quite simple. I made myself an apron that I’m wearing with a nice shirt. Emilia doesn’t have any obvious or even hidding hints about anything she may have on her.
I think that my scene will stand out because it is the final scene with a lot of plot endings. Both Othello and Emilia die, leaving Iago on stage all alone. In the play, he was carried off and said to have been tortured for everything he did. But he isn’t in this shortened script.
As a group we decided on how my part will have to die on stage as well as Othello afterwards.
Analyze Character’s Lines
“Moor, she was chaste. She loved thee, cruel Moor. So come my soul to bliss as I speak true. Speaking as I think, I die, I die.”
These are Emilia’s last lines when she dies. This is important to the play because, Emilia was a minor role, but her presence even in 3 scenes, were extremely important. Emilia was told to watch for Desdemona, then her action was one of the reasons that got her killed. Emilia knew all the lies that Iago had told Othello about Desdemona’s life.
I think I delivered this line with less emotion than I could have. It was hard for me to feel the pain that Emilia’s character needed.
My group scene members worked hard while practicing. I think that it would have been even better if we had memorized more lines but that was very hard. There was also not many movements we could find to make the scene more visually interesting, besides dying and just laying on the ground. During the speaking parts, my character was letting Othello know that he had killed the woman he loved, and that Iago had been lying to him since before they came to Cyprus.
Doing the performances didn’t really help me understand the play any better. I know how to read Shakespeare’s writing, but when seeing it performed, I can’t focus on what he was really trying to convey through the words. Seeing the words on paper, stationary, I can focus on exactly everything that was hidden, but important in the play.
All of my artwork and images of my film are displayed on this Flickr photostream.
Film I developed with the help of Addison Geary:
We will be discussing the transitions and coping methods it takes to be subjected into a culture of education that is focused upon religion and riches. Two topics that this family has always struggled with.
My brothers Asa and Tucker are identical and fraternal twins. They are now 19 years old and they are freshmen in college, the first school they’ve ever been apart from. Tucker attends Georgetown University for a biochemistry major. Asa currently attends Virginia Commonwealth University for computer engineering. They went through elementary and middle school in every class together, then to a private high school in Philadelphia. They were given full scholarships to Saint Joseph’s Preparatory School. Here they were set into a very religious brotherhood community, boundaries more focused on the practice of religion rather than the focus on financial complications that needed to be crossed for success.
When I asked my siblings about their experience with the initial change into a private school, they explained their feelings about how it may have been more work than they had been used to, but this community was so closely knit that they hardly noticed it. The educational boundary that seems to frequently interfere with financial issues was also apart of my own childhood.
At the same year that my siblings had to move into a private school, I had done the same. I attended William Penn Charter School for my sixth grade year. This was an extremely difficult change to bear. I had only recently lost my mother to cancer and starting at a new school made life much more difficult. The work was incredibly more challenging than I had ever had to experience before. I cried every night, but still stayed awake doing homework until two a.m. I had transferred from a public school just two days into the school year. The principal of my middle school had to persuade another girl to take me around for a few days since we had all the same classes. This girl was my opposite.
I knew from a glance at the school that I wouldn’t fit in. My family has always had to be really careful with money. None of the other students I saw in the grade could possibly be on a scholarship like I was. This school didn’t first focus on intelligence. They focused on a bank account. Not one that I could try to compare with.
Lucky for my siblings, they’ve always been smarter than the rest of us. Saint Joseph’s has a very specific dress code of a suit and tie. Every young boy there must have their hair cut above the shoulders, shaved facial hair. Making them each look the same. With no room for judgement on appearance.
I asked the question of whether Asa or Tucker had ever hoped they were more rich just to fit in with students at the school, with a modest answer, they each said that it hadn’t crossed their minds. They have the intelligence of the richest man in the world, so this didn’t change their experience in high school.
After getting over the basics about their experiences with transitioning into private high school, I changed the questions for college. Tucker, going to school at Georgetown, a very prestigious Ivy league school, spoke about the financial and educational ties. Georgetown is an extremely expensive school to go to. He has been blessed with a great amount of scholarship, grant, and financial aid money. Asa has also. Tucker’s current cost for each semester is a mere $700. Georgetown is very much still focused on the financial issues of their students. Regardless of the amount of money they make as an institution, most of their profit is given to financial aid to help under privileged, extremely intelligent students, get the greater education they deserve.
The educational and economical boundary that has been crossed by these boys has changed the type of man they’ve begun growing up to be. They know what it is to lose their mother, and adapt to a new world where they believe they will be invisible and forgotten no matter the brains. These boys have been through more than many adults have, and they still have been able to make their family proud, and keep their faith. We have all known the burdens of keeping secrets to fit in, some are blurted out because the truth is too painfully obvious, some are dug deep, to hide from cruelty. This judgement could just be all in our heads though.
When I was a little girl, I only remember my mother having been extremely controlling. We were hers and if we didn’t do as she said, we had broken a law, no matter how minuscule it might have been. There was no room for our opinions. Even in my education. She would have wanted me to be smarter. There wasn’t time for me to become better at my writing, I simply should have just been able to do it. There wasn’t anything natural about writing for me.
She took my papers. She took them and crumpled them up. All my hard work. I was 10 years old. She didn’t think I was smart enough to write a decent paper.
“Give me the fact list that you have on the woman,” my mother demanded.
She wrote the entire paper. I could barely read her handwriting but she made me rewrite everything she did and turn it in as my own. I wasn’t allowed to voice my opinion. It wasn’t right, I knew that when I turned it in, but she would be upset with me if I didn’t do as she said. She was the boss.
I was always afraid when turning in my papers. They weren’t mine. I was little, and didn’t really care how intelligent they sounded, as long as I felt honest. The guilt of dishonesty that never went away. With the lies you must tell to please your parents.
Getting sick didn’t end her tyranny. It was all that kept her from “being hyperaware of the pain.” My mistakes in language kept her mind moving. She thought that the idea of intertwining her expectations into mine would be helpful to me.
As this process continued I realized that what she was doing was beneficial to only her. My mother was living through me. I knew nothing different and so I simply went along. You don’t say no to a parent who is losing hair and is nauseous all day, every day.
The constant revision of my papers did not end. Her sickness progressed and made her interest in my education dissipate. She was forced into not overseeing and reading all of my work before it was turned in. She got too sick to know I existed.
One of the main points from the essay “How to Tame A Wild Tongue” by Gloria Anzaldía. “So, if you really want to hurt me, talk badly about my language. Ethnic identity is twin skin to linguistic identity- I am my language. Until I can take pride in my language, I cannot take pride in myself.” Language is the representation of experience, ethnicity, and family, all together to create the final melody. A perfect combination of sounds and a back story, that can all become known from a few simple words.
If language is your identity, who are we until we find our own? My identity was lost. As if mine were the clone of my mothers.
“A child cannot be taught by anyone who despises him. And a child cannot afford to be fooled.” This quote, taken from James Baldwin’s essay, “If Black English Isn’t A Language, Then Tell Me What Is?” This states that any teacher who in fact dislikes children will not teach the child effectively. I connected this to my own experience because I learned from my brothers about the world and language. Much to their dismay. They saw I would never be taught by my mother who had taken the time to teach them. They must have been loved in a different way. I only learned from my own mistakes, and those of my siblings, when chastised for misuse of language.
I was forced to whine into a jar when I was young. I complained often I guess, but when I did, everything was gibberish. Nobody wants to hear words they can’t comprehend. The jar stayed on the kitchen counter until I was seven and a half years old. The way I spoke disgusted my family.
While my mother was sick, she ran a blog. She hated the term, so it was simply, her online journal. She began it the day after she was diagnosed. Wanting to be able to tell her story in the beautiful way that she knew how. Her writing was her everything. She touched people across the country. They read every post she ever wrote. So many people that didn’t know anything about us except what she wrote. I was 9 years old when her news crushed me. This was when I learned what a story could do. A person’s words were power. They moved mountains and could touch the heart of another without a physical contact needed. Even in Layman’s terms, her words sounded so honest. Despite the cliché, I find their overuse, very powerful and truthful.
“Dying is very inconvenient,” she wrote. Three days before her death, she knew it was coming. It isn’t about whether the language “intersects” with identity or not, but rather your identity is kept locked in your mind and soul. The only key to open it is your language. Whether writing the truest of true, or speaking, it’s poetry. She apologized to the people she never met, for leaving them. Her parting words made strangers burst into tears. Her story was public. But it was also over.
Language in my experience, is the power that kept my mother alive for longer than a year. It encouraged prayers from coast to coast. And it kept her mine for a little while longer, even if I believed she wanted to leave me. Language is identity. It also creates connection, whether healthy or not, the power of language is something to be worked on, not cloned.
They’re coming for me. Who are they? My monsters. They come out of the closet while I sleep. Creeping towards me they come, grabbing my limbs and pulling my ponytail back until I wake up screaming in a cold sweat. I talk to myself to break the silence. Am I crazy? Can I be treated? Everyday this week was a struggle to not walk into the hospital. If I were to hurt myself though, can I blame it on those monsters?
“They are my nighttime battle scars,” I could tell the doctor. The nurses would look at me with pity. Hoping nobody sees my anxious ticks when I tell the blatant lie. Do they already know that I've been abusing myself, they never tried to help. The abuse is only within myself though. I can’t take the chance of making scars, they’d see more obviously. My reasons not to go. Daddy would be angry if I told anyone I am going insane. He’d be expected to do something. Or help. An impossible task. I’m already burden enough taking up space at home.
Those monsters began as my thoughts. Look what they’ve done now. I’m hallucinating those real attacks on my mind. Who can believe a silly little girl? They’re all so normal. Losing control of oneself is simply uncanny to the simple minded. Can I blame them? They haven’t experienced the world like I have. But why do they get to be normal? What is it like? To not want to die for a day. To have control over at least one thing. I don’t want to die. I don’t think so at least. Nobody would care though. I wonder what its like to think or know somebody out there loves you and is willing to help when you’re in need. I’ve never known. How could I expect to have somebody that cares for me. Shame on me for wishing for something I know will never be mine. That needs to be earned and deserved. So i don’t deserve that gift. Interactions frighten me anyway. What if I suddenly told someone the truth. Take off my mask of smiles and be honest. They would surely walk away, because what can they do? I’ll never be able to tell another how I really see the world. Nobody else can see it this way, they wouldn’t be able to live with themselves. Then, it’d be my fault when something happened to their well-being. I’m so used to feeling everyone’s pain as my own.
Everyone is a stranger. Though isn’t that a contradiction? To know so many, but have them all be clueless of the true you, they only know the amazing person I created, the one I wish I could be, and others think I am. They’ll never know the truth behind these big, innocent eyes. Nor do they want to. I’m dying inside, and nobody knows.
Surviving is becoming too hard. Am I finally getting too tired? That day when I collapse from feeling everyone else’s troubles will be my last. That sounds so inviting though. The finale of my existence. What a relief for those who think they know me.
Are these all my excuses? I’m only trying to take the blame off of me because I know my elder’s judgements are true. I’m nothing. I never will be.
Creating the mask was tricky at first because I needed to have my classmates plaster my face, which took awhile and it wasn't as perfect as I wished it could be. Then, after pulling my mask off, I was unable to do anything else with it for the day because my classmates plastered my face a few more times for other people. Painting the mask was very simple. I already had a very clear image of how a sugar skull should look because of my experience with seeing the images of them so many times. My mask has my mother's name and date of death painted on the chin, to show my reasons, that aspect was very important in the original design. I still would like to make it glossy now.
1) Hay un puerta. La casa es muy pequeña.
2) No hay ventanas. Aire viene a través el techo.
3) Hay jardín es mucho bonito.
4) La casa tiene paredes azul
5) La vista es fantástica desde el porche
6) No hay cuartos. La casa tiene una habitación y el baño está fuera.
A. What is negative space? Negative space is the area(s) around an object. You can outline the object, then shade in the wasted area outside of the object.
B. Explain how you found negative space in 1. your cut out? I found the negative space by tracing every separate section of the image, and pasting every other section on one side, and the other pieces on the other side. 2. in your stool drawing? To find the negative space of my stool drawing, i looked for the areas around and between the shapes of the object.C. Why does it help an artist to see in negative space? It helps the artist to see the entire shape of the image.
D. Does seeing in negative space enhance drawings, why or why not? I believe it does enhance the drawing. I say this because when you see the negative space, the positive space stands out more.
Lunes: Un sanwich con lechuga y tomate, una zanahoria, unas fresas, y jugo de naranja.
Martes: Un sanwich con manteca de cacahuete, una manzana, y mucho agua.
Miércoles: Un falafel con aguacata, las papas fritas, una naranja, y jugo de limón
Jueves: Pan de pita con limón hummus, una balsa de patatas fritas, una banana, y agua.
Viernes: Un plato de pasta con ajo,
Sabado: Un plato sopa de tomate con arroz, una toronja, un refresco salud.
Domingo: Un ensalada con fresas, un pan, muchos cerezas, y jugo de manzana.
Food can be very important in our lives. I believe this because food is in aspect of life that is needed for survival. The types of food that we eat also describe the community we could live in. Types of food define a culture, or classify it. Food in many lives is a privilege. In my home, we're often very lucky to have food, but in times when my family doesn't have much money, we have to do the best we can with the little that we have.
Profesor/a: La Señora Thompson.
Actividades en la clase: Trabajamos problemos de matemáticas.
Responsibilidades: Ser responsable y muy importante hacer toda la tarea.
Materiales: La computadora y unos lapíces.
Opinión: Me gusta porque la clase es muy interesante.
Profesor/a: La Señora Hull.
Actividades en la clase: Dibujar y hablar sobre artistas.
Respsonsibilidades: Ser punctual y prestar atención.
Materiales: Simplemente unas hojas de papel y unos lapíces.
Opinión:Me gusta la clase de arte porque me encanta dibujar.
Muy chévere y interesante. Tenemos muchos el salones, una biblioteca por la clase de música, y muchos los programas fuera de la escuela. Sobre quinientos estudiantes y veintisiete el maestros.Donde en Centre Filadelfia. Me encanta la escuela. Siempre aprender en mi clases.
¿Qué pasa? Mi nombre es Bailey. Estoy enferma ahora. Sin embargo, es casi desaparecido. Me siento un poco mejor que la semana pasada. Tengo catorce años. Mi cumpleaños es diez de julio. ¿Cuándo es cumpleaños? Vivo en Filadelfia. Hace es bastante viento hoy.
¿Qué te gusta hacer en Maracaibo? Me encanta es bailar. Cuando baila, me siento libre. Mi también es cocción pastelitos, es por eso que mi amigos llamar me magdalena. De vez en cuando me gusta dibujar o jugar con mis amigos. Uf, no me gusta nada ir al escuela, que puede ser aburrida a veces. ¡Pero me encanta mi maetros! Simplemente no, el trabajo. ¿Qué música te gusta escuchar? Casi siempre yo escuchar a Beyoncé y Glee Cast canciones. ¡Me encanta su música! La música es mi vida. Me ayuda a concentrarse.
Soy es muy boba y baja. Odio mi estatura, a menudo es muy agravantes. Mis hermanos reír a mí mucho. ¡Tengo cinco hermanos! Es una locura en mi casa. ¿Tengo hermanas y hermanos? Personas dice yo soy súper extraña. Aunque es cierto.Me tengo que ir ahora. Mi tía dice que me tengo que ir a dormir. ¡Adios¡ ¡Espero conocerte algún día!
Introduction to Video:
In a real-life situation, you may need to use your manners in a restaurant to get your waiter's attention and to say thank you when the waiter hands you your food. Also, if you leave a tip and say you're welcome.
- The most common way of saying hello in Español
- When talking to your friend or someone closer to your own age you may say ¡Hola
- To say how are you in Spanish, You may say "¿Comó estás?' or ¿Qúe tal?
- When leaving a conversation, to say goodbye there is many different ways to respond such as,
In a real-life situation, you may need to say hello, how are you, and goodbye if you wonder how a person feels in a conversation, and how to say goodbye when the conversation is finished.