This is the space where members of Platt College's Intro to Literature class discuss readings and other goings-on that have to do with their class.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Maggie
"THIS IS NOT THE KIND OF TOAST I LIKE IN THE MORNING!"
She squealed, and kicking the cobalt cover off her sticky skin she continued to complain, but now under her breath as though she were trying to hide her displeasure at being flogged out of her slumber by the slinking sun, which was already so hot she could hear the meat she had left on the brick balcony to the right of her bed beginning to sizzle and sputter like greased lightning.
Quickly padding over to the weapon rack haphazardly spiked to the wall she grabs her knife, bound with sanguine leather that had been stripped and dried from her fallen enemies and then carefully wrapped around the bone handle, then returns to the meat and scrupulously jabs it, flipping it over and over again on the red slabs until the meat bubbled a heavenly brown and the inside steamed a devilish pink; still reminiscent of the blood that had been pumping through the flesh, sustaining life not but hours ago.
She huddles in the shadowy corner of her adopted hovel while the timekeeping tower ticks away, and as a meditative glass look shrouds her expression, her chewing slowly synchronizes with the seconds that become more and more monotonous as her thoughts are relocated to a different time in her life. Her teeth clamp down on metal and she again spews obscenities as she tosses the hunting knife across the room, landing it with a thunk in the wooden frame of the rack from which she retrieved it.
"Another balls hot day, man...even hells minions would shy away from such heat! Outrageous! And how are we supposed to function in this? Let alone survive....Look at me! I was practically fried alive this morning!"
"I have got to take this up with the council..." she fiercely decides to herself and lickety-split she hastily clicks the tubes to her Hydrodynamic Salvage Apparatus into the apertures located on her thighs, calves, stomach, and arms. Grudgingly, she hoists the pack onto her back securing it to her body with straps, and meticulously wraps herself in a light taupe cloak, inserting her arms into the supple sleeves, and pulling her goggles over her eyes, she bounds down the stairs.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Monday, August 6, 2012
Mud Bucket
The night would be a long one considering it was 1AM on Sunday morning and the owner would not open the market until 3PM when he and his staff had arrived from mass. Jason's acceptance of the situation was almost immediate. "This is going to be fun" he said as he placed his back to the door, slumped against it and allowed his body to drag along it until his backside met the floor, at which point there was a faint click and the door edged open slowly. Though he had no recollection of it, Jason had left a wad of paper jammed into the locking mechanism, preventing it from locking shut. He peered up at the wad in disbelief. "Did I do that?" he whispered, bringing himself to his feet and staring in disbelief at the open door, pausing only for a moment before he quickly left the room and made a beeline for aisle eleven where his final mission for the evening awaited.
Portfolio Assignment Due by 11:59 p.m., Wednesday Aug. 8
Description
There are just four assignments that you were asked to do: "Epics and Fables," "Characterization/Point of View," "Style Thief," and "Theme/Setting." For your portfolio, you will select the three assignments that you think are your best work, revise them based on our class workshopping sessions, the comments left on your post, and your own judgment.
Presentation
You will present your revised pieces in a digital portfolio, along with some visual elements that will blow the mind of your poor, simple caveman professor. A .pdf would probably be the easiest format, but if you want to get fancy and use video or animation, just clear it with me first.
Reflection
When revising each piece, you should first revisit the assignment instructions. As you make your revisions, think about how you can improve your work so that it more closely achieves the goals set out in the instructions. When you are done with your revisions, write one or two paragraphs that explain how you went about satisfying the elements of the assignment, how you revised the assignment to improve it, and how you felt about your final product as well as the process of getting it to its final stage.
As always, if you have any questions, feel free to email me at andylhinds@yahoo.com
Drifting Aimlessly
“This whole being shipwrecked business sucks.” He thought to himself. Just one day out on the open sea was worse than his family road trips across the Midwest. At least there was some variety. The blank, blanket of blue offered no relief; the endlessly cloudless blue skies didn’t help much either. The occasional flying fish was Wilson’s only entertainment. At this point he almost hoped a shark would come along to take his mind off the emptiness.
Didn't set enough time aside to form a cohesive story. The idea was to create a bland, yet extremely brutal open ocean environment for the shipwrecked character. Then riding off humanity's combined accomplishment of landing the Mars Science Laboratory last night, I wanted to highlight the theme, that we're the sum of our parts and defenseless on our own, to the point we can plunge into insanity.
-------
Or maybe running out of the canned beets and creamed corn he managed to stow aboard his raft
Wilson’s journey had started off on the right foot. Just an easy-going cruise from Long Beach to Brisbane, carrying his favorite cargo: fine Detroit automobiles.
It had been five years since he began life anew as a merchant sailor and the relief of finding his life’s calling was comforting. And this cruise would only cement that sentiment. Long Beach to Brisbane
Small World
Assignment for Monday 7/30
Should I meet her? two years of online conversations and here she is. Here in front of me. Here at Disneyland in front of me. It has to be her. It is her, she is wearing the same jacket a she was wearing in her pictures. What if she doesn’t like me? No, she said she wants me, she wanted me so bad. I don’t know what to do, what if she doesn’t like me? I need to courage, why do I have this feeling? I wanted to meet her for such a long time and she’s here, in front of me. But what if I introduce myself and she doesn’t like me? I don’t think I could take the rejection. What do I do? She looks so good standing over there. I need to make a decision fast. Now is my only hope. What If I meet her, and I fall in love? what if she falls in love? Well that is a good thing right? I can leave the girl I am with now. I feel so despicable. Why is this so hard for me. Here I am pacing back and forth, my two friends asking me what’s wrong, telling me I am acting like I’ve seen a ghost. I’m about to give up, not wanting to be bothered with it. I’m a hopeless, unassured reject of society.
Just then a feeling of strength comes over me. What do I have to lose? What if she likes me? I will regret not introducing myself now. Now is the time. Now is my only chance. I finally have the confidence to tell my friends what is going on. They are shocked. what are the odds that she is here? Hundreds of miles away from home? The same weekend we are here. Their motivation adds to the strength I feel Inside. I walk up to her, and call her name.
“Monica!”
She turns around, along with three of her friends. She stares. Oh shit, what did I get myself into. I wish I had a shell to crawl into. her expression of squinting eyes changed to a smile,
“Chris!?”
“Yes, its me”
“Oh my God, Chris what are you doing here?”
She rushes to me and I grab her. She smells so good. Her hug feels so good. I'm happy I made my decision. She invites me over to her suite that night. Should I ? Of course.
Fame: At All Costs
Assignment for 7/22
The night was perfect, The valley had clear skies, was quiet, had a little breeze, and crickets chirping. The occasional mosquito buzzed by. Summer was very busy for the crew. There was a heightening amount of tags from Willow street, to as far north as Cypress ave, They were worried that they wouldn't be one of the top crews in the east. One of them couldnt take that scenario. He needed fame like it was a disease. He yearned for it, more than love itself. He wanted to become “shot-caller” of the crew. He wanted to walk into a house party and know that, everywhere he went, people would whisper, “thats him”, after all, the girls loved the writers with “colorful” fingernails. Dakers1 was losing sleep thinking about what day they should unleash their creative assault on the city. He figured out the day would be the sunday night before Labor day. "The weeks after Labor day", he thought, "everyone would know who was on top".
The next morning, He paged everyone in the crew, only four showed up. Luckily, the ones that did show were all the main writers. They were the ones that hit the hardest areas to reach. The freeways, the billboards, and even day shots. Damn they were good. He explained his master plan, and they all were excited. One packed a bowl of some humbolt county purple kush and turned on a CD and skipped to a song called, Hieroglyphics “you never knew”. As the days leading to that night passed, they hit a few stores in the area “racking” as many spray cans as possible. As the days drew closer to their deadline, they all felt this disease taking over inside them from within like adrenaline junkies. Many would run from anything that would cause this feeling, but not them. They loved the rush, they couldn't get enough of it, and felt comfort from the bond of the others, that felt the same.
Labor Day Monday, they all woke up at dakers1’s house, it was noon. What a rush, and what a busy night. Their urban assault went as planned without any mishaps. they went all out, close friends sent them pages with praise, as word and news of their night spread. They were on top once again. Just then , they saw the news. There was a special report on the vandalism they created, the excitement secretly turned into fear. They felt their hearts sink and felt dizzy from the thoughts of doing time in jail. One of the detectives was offering a 30,000 dollar reward for information leading to the arrest of anyone involved with the event that happened the night before. All that dakers1 was thinking was “this is it, I’m done”. Someone surely will take the money, and lead them to him. What would he do? the damage, his family, everything. He sat in his room as if waiting for that dreadful knock on his door, but it never came. weeks passed, the majority of his shots painted over, he learned a valuble lesson, “With Fame comes Respect.” Many people knew who he was, but not one person turned him in. He was grateful. while laying on the bed, He checked his pager and grabbed his cordless house phone. He was ready to call his boys, ready to plan the next hit.
I'm new to panic attacks
She sees the room with her tumbling eyeballs, rolling around, while her tears cut through makeup and freckles and the only thought in her head is "AIR!". Suffocating, her chest abruptly rises and falls, eerily silent. Blinking through the tears, she sees the walls around her being eaten by shadow. Debilitated by the enclosing space tightening around her neck and vision, her legs buckle and with her eyeballs she tumbles to the ground.
The hallway seemed to endlessly extend before her; the putty colored linen cabinet at the end shrinking until it was only a cabinet simply because she knew it to be so. Milky, blotchy, bargain-buy tile beneath her naked, outstretched legs sticks to her skin as she sweats profusely from the garroting grapple.
The sweltering heat didn't help either. An instantaneous blaze of abhorrence for his frugal mother rocked her core.
A silent gloom crawls from every corner and crease around her. Deep from within the pockets, sleeves, hood, and bowels of a jacket drooped over the coat rack, a shade ascends, veiling all in a pitch. Like molasses, it creeps, covering everything it touches in a penumbra -- death eclipsing life.
The shoes beneath the canopy of jackets, sweaters, pull-overs, sweatshirts, and coats vomit forth a black and shadowy bile. Spreading like slick oil and dragging all hope below the surface, the shadows snuff it out. Reflections fall dull and her tormented expression becomes unrecognizable in the now muddy sheen of various materials. The glass gut of the grandfather clock to her left ticks at seemingly infinite intervals. Hissing each second with ruthless malice and mockery.
Her fingers are grappled in a crooked clutch around her maw, practically piercing porcelain flesh with mouth agape, while her nervous system spits out signals making her body twitch. "In through your nose, out through your mouth..." a quiet whisper rings in the back of her mind like the gentle tinkle of bells. Clamping her mouth and eyes shut, she desperately tries to suck air in.
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Assignment for Mon, 8/6: Setting and Theme
This past week, we talked about the elements of setting and theme in the stories "Harrison Bergeron," "To Build a Fire," and "The Things They Carried."
For your writing activity, I would like you to write a story, vignette, sketch, passage, fragment--whatever you want to call it--that focuses on one or both of these elements. Think about how the fanciful story of "Harrison Bergeron" served as a cautionary tale, almost a fable, to warn us (in a comic way) against the deadly combination of idealism and unfettered governmental power. Think not only about the icy desolation portrayed in "To Build a Fire," but also its themes concerning prideful overconfidence, self-reliance, underestimating the forces of nature, and ambition. Consider "The Things They Carried" for its strong themes of disaffection, emotional burdens, the brutal irony and ironic brutality of war; but also for its masterful use of setting: the descriptions of the things that the soldiers carried can be considered part of the setting of the story. They are also a device used effectively to get at some of the complex themes explored. If you're feeling ambitious, you might try employing a device or "motif" of your own to hint at the themes or main ideas of your piece.
Happy writing, and have a great weekend!
Monday, July 30, 2012
At What Cost
Trillionaire Aspirations
But that was all misdemeanor ultra-wealth delinquency. Like his investment portfolio, Mitt was never one to settle for middle of the road performance. He had something more sinister in mind.
“Global domination.” Mitt smirked as he swiveled to face his panel of yes men.
“Through incremental easing of lending rates through our reser...”
“This isn’t a feedback session, Nerdgeek #4.” Mitt interjected, not knowing if he even got the Mittname of the guy he never bothered to learn, correct.
“Only a handful of people in this room have been made aware of Starfish Prime. Specifically, because all the mouth-breathers outside these walls would call it diabolical.” He elaborated with his innately condescending tone.
The members in the boardroom shared dampened looks of indifference and annoyance. This wouldn’t be the first time one of Mitt’s grand plans was forced upon them, complete with hyperbole and epic consequences, the board members knew to just agree and sit it through. The pay was good.
Mitt shouted over the quiet murmur amongst his staff: “As I figured, the words to explain to you gentiles, what’s on the agenda, simply don’t exist in english. You’re gonna need pictures. Roll that beautiful bean footage, A/V club.”
The boardroom windows flashed to opaque and sprung up the Conglomo corporate logo. “Enjoy.” Mitt blurted, as he openly directed his tablet to RedTube with the indifference of a honey badger.
“Conglomo: Innovators at life.” the video opened with a sterile female voice.
“Fast forward through my bio, get to the goodies.” Mitt demanded.
“Following a visit with the Supreme Leader of the Empire of Korea, Kim Jong Un, Mr. Mitt had realized a fantastic vision. Seeing the promise of the Korean Warrior Clone program and...”
“Fast forward again.” He again, interrupted.
“Starfish Prime will allow Conglomo to dictate its destiny. 16 years ago, Mr. Mitt enlisted 998,000 well-reimbursed mothers to act as surrogates through in-vitro fertilization. Through chromosome therapy and high-efficiency disposal measures, Conglomo was able to achieve a staggering, 93% male birth rate. The children were secured and brought to Conglomo Island 8, our largest and most secluded.
For the past 16 years, these children have been raised under the tutelage of former German Army General, Friedrich von Jäger. Following a strict regimen of diet, education and military training in a controlled, Spartan-esque environment, Conglomo has grown, of our own resources, the largest private military organization in history.”
(work in progress)
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Guarding Michael
Michael has been a gentle natured boy since birth. His first smile, though mistaken for gas, was of sincere happiness. As a young boy, Michael had expressed appreciation for every creature he has encountered, whether animal or man. Michael's bright outlook on life endures, despite his family's dark past. Though he and his parents were born and raised in New York, Michael's grandparents were immigrants to this great nation. Having narrowly escaped Auschwitz in 1944, they fled to Switzerland with a small group of refugees. There they provided details of the concentration camp from which they fled and were offered safe relocation to the United States. It was at this point that their family had the chance to start fresh and leave the gruesome details of their past behind them. This was their intention but the door they closed behind them would not remain shut forever.
Michael, now in his senior year, looked forward to his final year at Iredell High, though it had only just begun. He had maintained the kind of grades to land him a scholarship at the University of his choosing and he looked forward to the opportunity to show his parents that he was able to make it on his own, as if they doubted that at all. Looking over his schedule he realized that if he didn't hurry, he was going to be late to his first class. Having barely made it through the door before the bell rang, he noticed every seat had been taken but one; back row, in the corner, next to a blonde, blue eyed young man who he would later learn to be Adam Braun. Adam's upbringing was similar to Michael's. His parents relocated from Poland to the United States in search of a new beginning, but for different reasons. When Adam and Michael's eyes met, there was a strange sense that they had met before. It was at this point that I came into contact with Adam's Guardian and our fates were forever changed.
Friday, July 27, 2012
Style Theif: Assignment for Monday, 7/30
Your assignment for this week is to write a piece in the style of one of these authors. Your piece should be of the usual length and can be a re-imagining or continuation of something you've already written, or it can be completely new.
In order to successfully imitate the style of one of these authors, you need to first analyze what makes their respective styles unique. We did some of this in class, as you will recall. Here's a refresher on some of the traits we talked about in each of the stories. Remember to go back to these stories to figure out more about what makes these authors' voices some of the most distinctive in literature.
Hemingway:
- Simple, straightforward, economical language
- Frequent use of short sentences
- Naturalistic dialogue--characters often speak in short phrases
- Repetition for emphasis
- Characters tend not to reveal much about themselves, seem almost reluctant to speak
- Long, winding sentences with somewhat elevated diction
- Use of almost microscopic detail to describe certain actions or sensations that have particular significance to the story or the main character
- Partially omniscient narrator that has access to the deepest recesses of one or more characters' psyches.
- Regional dialect in the dialogue contrasts more formal language in narration.
- Accessible language, casual diction, simple sentence structure
- Somewhat cynical tone--narrator doesn't necessarily sympathize with the characters
- Macabre subject matter
- Dark humor--even mixes slapstick, visual humor with violence
- Plot twists hinting at the random turns life and death can take
- Use of simple, yet striking similes ("Face as broad and innocent as a cabbage")
- Regional dialect
There's so much more to the style of each author, even based only on the stories that we read. So make sure you get your noses back in the book before you start writing.
Have a great weekend, and have fun with this writing assignment!
Monday, July 23, 2012
Livindedgirl
My gear in comparison is substandard, and lacking in everything needed to perform adequately as a member of the raid. I awkwardly try to ignore the other people's gear and sneakily flick my eyes over each detail.
Studying the moiety of members in front of me I gently, silently weave a refreshment table, the portal manifesting in a cool, electric-blue egg.While I sit inside my head and consider how to introduce myself, guild members come over to activate the portal, syncing their spirits with mine, to summon a magic table capable of supplying cupcakes that revitalize ones intellect and fortitude.
The magic fades from my bony finger tips and I let my hands fall to the table. As I straighten I gingerly munch on a miniature mana cake. "Oh Thrall's balls I hope this goes ok . . ." I sigh inwardly. As the others chat away amongst themselves, I'm left alone with my own thoughts.
Turning my head to look at the twinkling lights glaring off this paladin's golden garb, I find myself face to face with the cold and tranquil face of an undead. She stares at me. I slowly back up, heart pounding, and hastily contemplate her intentions. She slowly blinks and hands me her leather flackett of Highland Spring water.
Red Dawn Pt. II, POV
“I should really start acting like I’ve got some survival instinct.” Walt muttered to himself, snapping out of his reflective haze. He peeked his head out from the safety of a shipping container he had found refuge in. The ruins of the fuel depot around him fit his mental image of what a battlefield would like. The smell of diesel in the air was intoxicating and the fiery heat, almost unbearable. Canadians were not built for hot climates. Struggling to form a plan, Walt knew this was no time to gripe about comfort.
Walt flew out of hiding, the thrusters in his suit let off a crack like thunder. He blasted the last remaining fuel tank and perched himself on top of the base’s gymnasium. He had made his intentions clear. Walt intended to make a stand.
A bright reaction of lights followed by faint warmth danced across Walt's face, as artillery rounds blossomed to life in front of him. "They weren't trained in lobbing artillery at a man-sized target." Walt gleaned to himself as their fire for effect, had none. "Ugh, and I've never trained to fight off an entire infantry battalion on my own."
With just a matter of time before the artillery batteries could bracket Walt in for an easy kill, he made a dash for the treeline just behind his lab. He noticed his brown Escort sitting unscathed in the employee parking lot, almost upset even World War III couldn't get rid of it. With a more important task at hand, Walt regains focus. He has a hunch the Russians placed their command and control assets behind the safety of the mountain wilderness behind Black Mesa. Owing most of his military strategy knowledge to a few Sun Tzu quotes and a childhood playing Civilization, it was the logical choice. If he could convince the guy in charge of the whole invasion this was a bad move, he'd have victory in his hands.
Reaching the summit of a glaciated peak, Walt got to savor the rare joy of being right. In the valley below him, lay dozens of satellite dishes, tents and vehicles, all strewn about in haste like Burning Man. He surmises the "big one in the middle" is where the head man lives, if only he had he means to get down there. Their little makeshift city was surprisingly well fortified for time they had to establish. He knew if he made too grand of an entrance, Russian aircraft or even satellites might be able to relay his position.
....
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Assignment for 7/22: Point of View/Characterization
Don't worry too much about plot, just create a narrator with a distinctive voice. Try to avoid exposition. Don't *tell* us who the narrator is with phrases like, "I was born in Albany New York to a family of hairbrush salesmen..."; *show* us who he/she is with his/her thoughts, observations, actions, and dialogue.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Epic Fail
over the abyssal gaps between each plank of wood on her deck.
She warily eyes the uneven ground, steadying herself for the odyssey ahead,
and then takes the first step forward on her treacherous trek.
Wading through uprooted nails and scattered shoes she pursues level ground.
While evading and contemplating the merciless onslaught
from a plastic bag, the sun appears and casts blinding light from around the corner.
In defense she thrusts her hand to the sky, eyes ignited.
Ceasing her journey to regain her bearings, she judges the terrain before her.
With enemies stalking her every move her desperation rises.
"Onward!" She cries out, raising her head confidently. Though inside unsure
of her precises chances of survival, she charges forward.
A canyon opens up before her, resolved she steps down firmly and plants her
heel on the tail of a sleeping rug. Panicked it struggles
to pull free; obscuring the rugged terrain beneath even further. As she lifts
her other foot to step, the rug lashes out, swallowing her heel,
and stealing the ground from beneath her her, she falls.
To be continued.
(I've had way too much fun with this already, and if I continue it may not end for a while)
Monday, July 16, 2012
Lessons in life
Red Dawn Pt. II
“Well, if I die today, and at least, delay their advance, I’ll probably have a high school named after me.” Walt consoled himself as he tried to structure a plan of attack in his head. The exosuit was powered to beyond critical. Walt knew he’d need every last watt of electricity to even entertain the possibility of surviving. And with a loud crack, the Russians had broken through.
“‘Sup guys? I’m the official Spetznaz welcoming party.” Walt taunted over his suit’s loudspeaker. The Russians replied with a flurry of machine gun fire. Knowing the constraints of his armor, Walt knew he couldn’t play the role of bullet sponge for much longer. He ran towards the advancing line, snagging a forklift in each hand and made a gory scene, too macabre for even Poe to put into words. He meleed his way to ground level expecting better news. Instead of a small special forces operation--the type the lab had at least considered a contingency plan for--was a full on invasion force.
Walt knew if the Axis powers were able to secure the fusion cores and retrieve the Allied research, the war would be over. He couldn’t let that rest on his shoulders. He sprang towards the base fuel depot and left off a lightning bolt from his suit’s reactor. Walt had successfully announced his presence.
To be continued...
Delilah's Revelation
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Assignment due 7/16: Epics and Fables
Your assignment for Monday (due before class starts) is to write a story, or a piece of a story, in the style of the epic or the fable. Your story may be about any topic, deal with any theme, and take place in any era. All I'm looking for is a demonstration of your understanding of some of the characteristics and conventions of the two genres we have been discussing.
For inspiration and information about epic poetry, re-read the passages from Beowulf and The Iliad that were included in the handouts I provided for you. Also, refer to your notes regarding the characteristics of epic poetry and the heroes that populate it.
And to refresh your memory regarding fables, turn to pages 5-16 in your reader, where you'll find examples of fables as well as excellent analysis by the editor.
Have a great weekend, and have fun writing your epics and fables!
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Time to "skate" at work a little...
I have always had two passions in life since I was a kid. Technology and Art. I loved train sets and Legos. They were my favorite toys as a young child. I would always bug my mom to buy me more train tracks for my Brio wooden trains so that I could make my setup bigger and badder each time. As far as Legos go,I was pretty creative when making things up. I was the kid that broke things purposely in order to figure out how it worked. Art branched off this creativity I had. I would draw so often that my dad would get angry at me for using up so much paper. Crayons, markers, pencils, were always near me at that time. I would draw characters that were on kid shows that I liked at the time and pretty much anything my teachers wanted me to do.
Later in high school I was introduced to electronics when I took a magnet engineering course. I was instantly addicted to to concept of routing current through a circuit board, using Ohm's law to find values like power, resistance and voltage then verifying my findings. After high school I went to community college for a year then joined the Navy for 9 years as a telecom technician. Three years ago I jumped into civilian life and am thankful and fortunate that I was hired here in San Diego soon after .Working in the IT field, usually demands experience on the systems worked on and certifications and work takes care of that. a college degree doesn't mean crap now a days in the IT field. I was 28 years old and figured to go to school for Art to do freelance work, I've always wanted to own my own business and this was an opportunity to make money doing something I enjoy on the side of my Career. School in general, I tend to procrastinate on lots of the work handed to me. I have never been big on trying to get the best grades in class or prove myself to anyone. as long as I pass the class, I'm good. You put something in front of me I enjoy, and It usually brings out the best in me. Coming to Platt for webdesign has been great for me so far. When I am focused on a project, I tend to block out everything around me and finish the task to completion. This is how I am at work, and at home.
This class should be interesting. I have never been in a class so small in my life, but I am looking forward to the experience.
Announcements 6/26: Play, Blog Comments, etc.
Here is the link for the play that we're going to on Wednesday, June 27.
Just show up at the theater a little before 8:00 p.m. on Wednesday, with five bucks in hand to pay the deeply discounted admission price.
Also, please remember to comment on at least two (2) of your classmates' posts on our blog by Wednesday.
This has been a bit of an odd week, what with the curriculum consisting only of watching movies and plays. For next week, be prepared to read, talk, and write!
See you in class tonight--
Andy
Monday, June 25, 2012
Re: labor standards
Sure we can (and should) thank Upton Sinclair for authoring The Jungle, which is often attributed for catalyzing early 20th century labor reforms, but it seems we’re regressing back upon all our leaps and bounds in troop welfare. We have factories which can almost stamp out a nearly ready-for-the-sales-floor automobile with minimal human interaction. Yet still, an overwhelming majority of us first world-ers are forced to maneuver our physical forms, from our personal, on the grid building many miles, over a terribly dangerous asphalt and concrete battlefield at a raged pace, to sit in another on the grid building, while wearing silly clothes and sharing air with folks you likely have nothing in common with, other than a common disdain for one another.
It’s a silly set of motions we force upon ourselves. Silly enough, I’ve grown to really appreciate Timothy Ferriss’ work, most notably The 4-Hour Workweek. Even with Ferriss’ acute case of self-obsessed narcissism and a cabal of dubious friends, I like to imagine his books may hold a life altering tip or two. I enjoy holding out for hope. Maybe one day I’ll find the time to actually read them, but I always find myself back at square one: weekends are too short.
I've got the moxie!
Back in North Carolina, I didn't know where I was going. I was 18 and felt as though everyone was leaving for college with life goals set, plans for the future, and all the strength in the world needed in order to get through it. I was weak and alone, and I was going to a college, but I didn't know what I was going to do when I go there. School was never easy for me, so the last thing I wanted to do was spend ANOTHER 4 endless years, NOT paying attention to something I didn't care about. I went to Appalachian State University because my boyfriend at the time was going there. That was just about the worst decision of my life! However, I came away from that situation with a new found understanding and respect for myself. I knew that I had to do something I loved. I had to have a career, not a job. I wanted it for myself.
I deserved it! My brother is in jail right now for 1st degree murder, and 1st degree kidnapping. This all happened my first year of college at App, and it was one of the reasons I dropped out. The healing process that should have happened, didn't, and I went back to Chapel Hill to get a job, but soon I realized that the further I was away from my hometown, the better. So I moved. I was dating a guy I had known for almost 3 years on (yeah laugh it up!) World of Warcraft, which is created by Blizzard Entertainment; my dream job! He lived in California, and that's just about as far away from North Carolina as I could get without leaving the country. We've been living together for 3 years now (and are still madly in love), and the growth I've seen in myself since leaving home is astounding. I'll be 23 in October, and I can't believe that I was 19 when I moved out here! It feels like yesterday I was driving across the country with everything from my bedroom in the trunk!
So, after taking the same road twice, but for a different reason, I found out about Platt from current boyfriend, who is an Alumni of PSD. Like I said in class, I want video games to be a part of my daily life. There was something I loved, that I could do, right underneath my nose.
It's funny; something I used to turn to in order to escape the world has actually opened up the world to me in return.
FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE I'M ACTUALLY EXCITED ABOUT WHERE I'M GOING!!!!
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Artistic Computer Nerd
Despite my lack of artistic range, I had gone pretty much my entire life believing I had a strong level of creativity. That is, until I attended Platt College. What I have learned in the past year at this school is that my level of artistic skill is intermediate, at best. I haven't allowed the direct exposure to numerous artists who are infinitely more skilled than I to discourage, though. I'm as determined to finish with my degree and continue to hone my skills now as I was on day one. Possibly more so. Although my funding for school will end in November, I feel I've gained a solid foundation upon which I can continue to build after I've received my degree. I'm not sure where these skills will lead me but I already feel as though my career in graphic arts will be much more interesting and fulfilling than anything I've done in IT. I'm a tech nerd for life, but supporting people who know nothing about the machines they use all day long is a frustrating way to spend your day and I need an outlet. Here's to hoping that the graphic arts will show me the way.
Assignment for Monday, June 25
I hope you have figured out how to get yourself logged in as an author on our group blog, and how to write a post. (It's pretty simple: click "New Post," write in the box, and click "Publish"--or "Save" if you're not quite ready to publish.) "Teacher Man" is my (Andy's) user name, if that wasn't obvious enough. If you are having any problems logging in or posting, please email me at andylhinds@yahoo.com.
Your first assignment is basically a test run to make sure everyone has figured out how to use the blog, and a bit of a writing sample for my edification. Please write a couple paragraphs either a) recapping what we talked about in class regarding who you are and what your relationship to reading and writing is like; or, b) anything else you feel like writing about: an ode to your hamster, a rant about traffic, a fictional account of a home-surgery disaster, a lyrical poem about yeast, whatever.
Please make this first post at least 200 words long, and include whatever visual, audio, or other elements you want. Just don't break the internet, please.
Mystery link