Yaya's Blog

May 17th, 2016

A Mid-Tournament Athlete’s Nightmare, An Interpretation of Act 2 Scene 1 from a Midsummer Night’s Dream

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A Mid-tournament Athlete’s Nightmare from Jenny Hunag

Don’t you hate it when sometimes you get into an argument with a close friend over something that really isn’t related to the friendship itself?

In our adapted film, our main theme is the foolish fragility of friendship. The film is embedded above, along with the script and the director’s notebook. The other people working in this group are Aily, Jenny, and Rose. The act and lines that were interpreted was Act 2, Scene 1, of Shakespeare’s infamous A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

This particular film created was a spinoff of Act 2 Scene 1 from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. It is set in a public school in 2016. The main theme expressed was the foolish fragility of friendship. Olivia has a very competitive and sassy personality, and also has an extraordinarily high sense of self-worth. This was portrayed through tone of voice, facial expressions, and gestures when I had enacted her. For example, to show her sassiness and arrogance, I was constantly rolling my eyes, shaking my head, making disgusted expressions, and whatnot. My high sense of self worth was demonstrated from my body language, as I had sat on the table and relaxed backwards, seeming mostly disinterested in what Tiffany had to say, and looking away from her face showing that I didn’t respect her enough to listen carefully. However, Olivia (me)’s relaxed demeanor shifted to an aggressive one when it became her turn to speak, by pushing off the table, standing up and getting chest-to-chest with Tiffany, while raising my voice in an almost shout. This makes it evident that Olivia obviously believes what she says is of the highest importance, due to her high self-worth, and that she is establishing her dominance by getting chest-to-chest with Tiffany and towering over her.

As for the director’s notebook, I had contributed by selecting the set, and creating the props, as well as writing the script. The theme we had chosen was the foolish fragility of friendship, which in a way was a spin off of the theme of the difficulty of love that was in the original version. Our script was written in order to reinforce that theme. It was decided that we should have two best friends who had gotten into an argument, Tiffany (Titania) and Olivia (Oberon), who were fighting over the Indian boy (India), with Fiona (Fairy) and Phoebe (Puck) providing valuable background information at the beginning. Their argument was over something minimal and completely unrelated to their friendship, and yet it still managed to tear them apart, thus further illustrating the foolish fragility of friendship. In the script, characterization is built, not only with the actual script but also with subtext. For example, the little gestures, such as Olivia’s constant rolling of eyes or sneering, develops her character to be very arrogant and obnoxious. Characterization was also built in the way characters spoke, such as Olivia’s sassiness being developed through her mocking tone as she said: “oh, get over yourself. Aren’t we best friends?” The set was selected to be outside of the Gym because the whole film is about team captains of different sports teams, and the only time they would meet one another is during their water breaks at their shared water fountain, along with inside the locker rooms for where Phoebe played her prank on her team mates. As for the props, they were created to help illustrate a setting in a school that prioritizes athletics over academics. The calmness of the setting sharply juxtaposes the chaotic argument between Olivia and Tiffany, which contributes to the development of the aggravated mood.

May 5th, 2016

Semester 2 CREATE: Those Thin White Lines

Posted by Yaya in English 9  Tagged , , ,    

    http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/yaya121/1772265/

    The link above takes you to a public website where anyone can read my work, and leave reviews on it.

    This short story was inspired by depression, and how it is practically impossible to “just get better”. Often, people tell victims of depression that they aren’t “trying hard enough”, when it really isn’t that simple. The story is about an unnamed girl and an unnamed boy. The girl suffers from depression, as evidenced by the way she acts, and her “thin white lines” (3). Although it wasn’t explained, the general gist is that this girl had been depressed for a long time, and the boy had been unable to deal with her emotional baggage (her demons), so he had abandoned her. However, now he wants her back, and she’s so scared and alone that she’s actually willing to give him another chance. 

          I used figurative language to make more story more interesting and to further develop the mood, for example “like streaks of thin and shiny white chalk” (2). To further develop the mood, I also added words with negative connotation, such as “perverse” and “broken”.  I had also given slivers of background information on the relationship between the nameless girl and boy, just enough to explain their relationship, and show that she was depressed. The difficulty of overcoming depression is mentioned repeatedly throughout the short story, especially as she tells him “everywhere, but nowhere you can fix”, meaning that although it was true she was hurting, he couldn’t really save her. Nobody could. He could only be there to support her as she tries to save herself. The motif in the short story are those “thin white lines”, which resemble the scars left by her self harm. Some of the scars are fresh, showing that she’s still fighting, and some are old, showing that she’s been fighting her depression for a long time. Scars are comparable to depression in the way that although perhaps they can fade slightly, just like how depression can lessen, it never really goes away. It will stay with you, and there will always be moments where she wants to re-open the scars, just like how it is so easy to fall back into her depressed state. That leads to the main message, which is that despite how hard one tries to overcome their depression, it will always lurk at the back of the mind and they’ll be prone to falling back into their state. I think that this is an important message to be expressed because as stated before, people don’t exactly understand just how hard it is to overcome your depression, and that people with loved ones who had fallen victim to it need to understand to be patient and supportive, and that no matter what, they can’t ‘fix’ them.


          She smiles with her mouth, but he sees the pain etched in her eyes. He hears her screaming for help as she tells him she’s fine. He wonders how many times she’s lied today.

          “Can we talk?”

          Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her instinctively tug the sleeves of her hoodie downwards, and though it was summer, he didn’t question her motives. He didn’t need to. He already knew.

          “I don’t want to talk to you.”

          Her voice was more afraid than angry. She was scared he would hurt her again.

(more…)

May 2nd, 2016

Low-key Twinning with Puck the Knavish Sprite

Don’t you hate it when you’re forced to compare yourself, a non magic user, to one that has the incredible power of transformation? Because I do!

The mischievous fairy Puck from a Midsummers Night’s Dream and I share numerous similarities. One of the key similarities that we share is our love for practical jokes. Puck has a quirky sense of humor along with an inclination to prank anybody. He often uses transformation in his pranking, “sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me;” (29), which is something that I, being a non magic user, cannot do. However, the reasons for his pranking share a resemblance to mine. It is simply because he is looking to have fun and have a good time, and the annoyance his pranks inflict upon others are simply not of his concern. I like to play pranks or annoy others purely for my own enjoyment, despite the irritation it causes them. Furthermore, although he was the one who had caused most of the turmoil with the young lovers’ lives, he was actually the one to restore order. This also corresponds to my personality, because although often I mess up, I work hard to restore order to the situation and often manage to set things right. For example this weekend when my friends and I were hanging out, we had accidentally caused a huge mess in the room we were in. I actually worked hard to clean up the room, which is surprising because I’m a very lazy person. Anyway, other than a likeness in personality, how other characters feel about us is also somewhat similar. This is because he is considered to be “shrewd and knavish” (29). I also am considered to be rather unprincipled occasionally, as I remember one time when I was shopping with my friends, we had entered Versace, and instead of being polite, I just ran up to the sofa and sprawled across it, without regard of any proper manners and etiquette. Therefore, other people most likely think that I am a person who lacks sophistication, which is actually quite true (except at properly formal dinners or whatever, I actually know proper fine dining etiquette and whatnot because I do not wish to look like a fool). Moreover, sometimes when I feel especially hungry I like to rummage through my house and eat all the food we have left. When my mom finds out I have eaten our whole supply of food, she calls me evil (shrewd), so I suppose that’s another similarity between the two of us.

Unfortunately, the ever so handsome fairy Puck and I do not bear any resemblance whatsoever. This is namely because, as stated before, he is a “sprite” (29), and I am a mere human. Moreover, he a male, meaning his build is probably quite different to mine. His hair color is not specified, nor is it explicitly stated that fairies even have hair, however, it is possible that we could have similar hair, skin, and eye colors. Otherwise, there are no shared physical attributes. This is probably our biggest difference. Another difference is that because he can use magic, he can shape-shift, which is an ability that I regrettably do not have.

March 24th, 2016

Embrace Me, Persuasive Speech by Death

Posted by Yaya in English 9  Tagged , , ,    

Are you afraid of death? Well, if so, below is a persuasive speech where I had taken the voice of Death and used it in order to persuade humans not to fear him, and embrace him instead. This persuasive speech was based off of Markus Zusak’s The Book Thief.

        I am the only certainty in life.

        Here’s a fact: you are going to die. No matter how hard you try to escape it, death is inevitable. Your meeting with me is inevitable. But do not be afraid. Embrace me.

        You’re asking me why? Why should you not fear death? I’ll tell you. There is simply nothing to fear about me.

        Some of you may know me very well, while others might not have even heard of me. Many of you fear me and dread my visits. You think I’m cruel, you think me a villain with a scythe. But I’m not. It is just my job to come and separate your souls from your listless bodies. I have emotions, and I definitely don’t travel equipped with a scythe. That would be inconvenient, and terribly tiresome. I’m nothing if not fair, and despite what you may think, I do not enjoy my job. My job is a burden, and I’m tired. I’m not only tired, I’m sorry. I’m remorseful that I have to collect so many of you. Do you know what it feels like to stare down at the broken scene of a burnt village? To see the anguish in a mother’s eyes as she clutches the corpse of her young child? Because I do, and have since the dawn of time. And despite what you think, it doesn’t invigorate me. It saddens me.

        I’m not trying to complain however. I’m simply stating that I do not think anybody could stand this as long as I have. I’m simply telling you that I am not the “antagonist” in all of your stories.

        I may seem like a monster, but I’m more human than you think. I have interests, I enjoy things. I enjoy collecting stories. Beautiful stories. Like the one that belonged to Liesel Meminger. Speaking of which, hers is truly a story you should check, if you have time. Apologies, I am getting off topic. Anyway, I also enjoy colors.

        The colors of the world are of the utmost interest to me. There are so many, and in fact I often spend more time observing the colors than the people. It appears that dark chocolate suits me best, a nice dark shade to express the grimness of my job, yet an earthy, warm brown to contradict the cruelty I am often so unfairly associated with. I love colors. They help me relax. They ease my burden. Most of all, they distract me from them. From you.

        Now, when I say they distract me from you, I’m not saying that I hate you and I can’t stand you. No, quite frankly, it stems more from fear than it does hatred. Quite ironically, although you are scared of me, I, too, am afraid of you.

        It is a gruesome fascination that I have with you humans. I struggle to understand how you humans are capable of so much beauty and so much ugliness. You left over humans, you’re slowly going mad. When the colors cease to distract me, I see you. I see you and your anguish. You that are left behind are crumbling among the jigsaw puzzle of realization, despair and surprise. I see your punctured hearts, and beaten lungs. Like that blonde little girl clutching the book as she stared at the destruction chaos had left in it’s wake. She was one of the most beautiful stories I’ve ever collected. She was an innocent soul. But that didn’t stop you. You humans keep fighting, and you cause such ugliness, and the people left behind are left broken. This scares me. You haunt me.

        I do not cause you humans to die, but it is a result. In fact, I exist only because you die. Without you, there would be no me. Without me, there wouldn’t be you. I am linked to humanity. I am the chain that links all of you. Humans differ in many ways, but the only certainty each one of you is that some day, some how, you will die.

        Do not be afraid of me. I am a vital part of what makes you essentially human.

Do not be afraid of when I’ll come. When I come for you, I’ll carry your broken body, I’ll cradle your splintered bones, I’ll be gentle as I free your soul. You’ll be at peace, then.

        Do not be afraid. Embrace me.

March 14th, 2016

WW2 Allied States: Propaganda Poster

Posted by Yaya in English 9  Tagged , , , ,    

english propaganda poster final

Explanation:

This is the digitally created anti-Nazi propaganda poster which showcases a catchy yet informative slogan saying “Wanna help to take out Nazi trash? Just take out your cash! Buy war bonds now!”, the infamous Uncle Sam repurposed while holding cash and a blood-splattered trash-bag with the Swastika symbol on it.

There are certain places on the poster that are lighter or darker than others, for example the area where the Swastika symbol is is significantly darker, as darkness is usually associated with dread, fear, and generally “bad”.  In contrast to the darkness, the area around the words “Buy war bonds now” is significantly lighter, as the light is associated with hopefulness and generally “good”, showing that that is the solution. The color of the poster is generally of the United States flag colors, along with black and blood-red. The colors of the United States flag make up the border and Uncle Sam, as this poster is from the side of the U.S., and it is important that is known. The black is mostly used with the trash-bag to represent “evil”, and otherwise it is used for the text to contrast the paleness of the backdrop so the words pop out at the audience and grab their attention faster. As for the framing, there is a border with the color of the United States to symbolize that if you are inside the United States, this propaganda poster is for you, and you ought to pay attention to whats inside. I followed the left -> right pattern, where the first thing that the audience would see would be Uncle Sam, as he is infamous and seeing him repurposed would definitely catch the audience’s attention. Then they would read the slogan, and the purpose of the poster would be explained.

The Archetypical element in this poster is to portray the audience as the hero, and this is shown by the slogan along with the images. Through the slogan, the poster is basically saying that if you buy war bonds, you could be the hero and help defeat the enemy (Nazis). Furthermore, it is also like the Call to Action in the Hero’s Journey in a way because Uncle Sam is pointing at you, holding the trash-bag that shows the problem that needs to be resolved, and therefore represents the so-called “quest” (buying war bonds) that you need to complete in order to resolve it. 

There were three different types of propaganda techniques that were incorporated in the poster: name calling, pinpointing the enemy, and slogan. The name calling in this poster is used as Nazi is referred to as “trash”, reinforcing the negative and unwanted connotation of the Nazis. Pinpointing the enemy is shown by calling the Nazis trash, and by making the area around the swastika flag dark, it shows that the Nazi are the enemy. This simplifies the solution, as it shows who is right and who is wrong, and who must be stopped. The slogan “Wanna help take out Nazi trash, just take out your cash! Buy war bonds now!” is rhyming and catchy, and basically tells the person what to do in order to solve the issue. In conclusion, this propaganda poster was made with all of the aforementioned concepts in mind in order to have the best appeal to the target audience.

December 11th, 2015

Media Censorship in China is (terrible) Great

Product:

Rationale:

Have you ever tried to go on youtube, only for the dreaded “Error” webpage to show up instead? If you have, have you ever wondered why? The research that was conducted has revealed what types of media China censors, what the purpose behind the censorship is, and how they have managed to maintain such a massive surveillance system.

The product I have created is a poster that mainly targets middle schoolers. The color scheme of the poster is monochromatic red as it is one of China’s national colors. There are numerous images included on the poster, mainly to draw the attention in a “hook” sort of way, where they glance at it, see something interesting and decide to go check it out. I also added some “sarcastic” statements like “the censorship of media in China is (censored word) great!!”, in order to draw the middle schoolers’ attention, just like the images. I also separated the information by making the font color white (with sub-topics in red) for the information only, and black for the rest.

This poster informs through bullet points, instead of long paragraphs that might scare off the middle schoolers. Furthermore, the language used is not too sophisticated, however it is not so simplified that the message isn’t wholly conveyed. The information it gives is that China censors its media in order to control public opinion, to uphold a positive image of the government, and also to force its citizens to use the Chinese counterparts to western media. It also explains what China censors: foreign websites, blog posts, certain keywords, so on. Thirdly, it explains how China censors: through two main systems, Golden Shields and the Firewall, employees, the 50 Cent Party, and so on.

November 29th, 2015

The Little Blue Pill

Posted by Yaya in English 9  Tagged , , ,    

Rationale:          

          This short story was repurposed from the Happy Life Mood short story I had written a while back. It contains some of the original description. This story doesn’t have a very long storyline. It describes a man who has an imaginary friend (sort of), whom he had since he was a child. However, he had fallen in love with her. Ever since he was little, he was at an asylum with her. But it was drilled into his mind that he needed to take the pill, and though he didn’t want to, he still did. He couldn’t stop himself. And because of that, he lost her. And now, he doesn’t eat his medicine in the mornings, but rather at night for it to wear off during the day, so he could have a chance at seeing her again. But she never appears, so he keeps eating the pill. He wants her back, but he knows he’ll never get her back. So he’s endlessly trapped in this repetitive cycle.

          I used figurative language to make more story more interesting and to further develop the mood, for example “like nothing but glowing coals” (1). To further develop the mood, I also added words with negative connotation, such as “immorality” and “sin”.  I had also given background information on the main character to help understand his obsession with this girl, as he talked about how “sometimes she would be there at the stroke of midnight.” The instability of the main character’s mind and emotions is shown as he repeatedly mentions “sanity” (2), and questions what really defines it, which sort of leads to the theme. The motif is the little blue pill. The pill symbolizes society’s concept of reality and normalcy, as the reality is he must take the medicine in order to fit in. So despite not wishing to, he does it anyway. The main theme I want to express through this story is that just because society’s standards of normalcy aren’t necessarily the same as yours, it doesn’t mean you should give the “ultimate sacrifice”, and have to lose what’s meaningful to you. It is highly exaggerated in this story, as this person obviously has a very distorted sense of reality, but it is still the theme expressed.


          A tiny blue pill was clenched in his palm. His hand shook violently as he slowly lifted the pill to his mouth.

          However he never ate it.

          Hours later, the man returned home. Not even bothering to take off his uncomfortable uniform, he walked towards his bedroom. It looked completely ordinary on the outside, with a queen sized bed, a television, a sofa, and a few more very typical household items. However, as one turned into the closet, that’s where it got weird. You see, the closet had no clothes hanging in it. The walls weren’t painted either. It was completely bare.

          He reached out, his movements somewhat stiff and jerky, almost robotic, and traced his finger across the wall of his closet.

          A tall man with tousled blond hair stood silently, seemingly unfazed by the haunting scene unraveling before him. There was something about him that was off. He was cold, detached, empty. It was as if he were nothing but a broken shell- void of any emotion.

          But it wasn’t just a wall. At least, not to him. It was an opening that lead him to the darkest, realist parts of his mind. The walls of the closet were a means of communication to his thoughts, a place where they revealed themselves, and became more than thoughts- but a reality. A reality that perhaps society would reject, that perhaps others would call insane, but to him they were the perfect picture of normalcy.

          In front of him lay a girl. She was no older than nine, with tumbling brown locks and thick lashes. Her lips were pillowy, and when they stretched into a smile, she had a single dimple. She was beautiful, simply radiating the innocence of the ignorance of a child. Her eyes were closed as she lay on a white hospital bed. 

         As he saw her, his fingers inadvertently curled inwards, digging into his palm, and instinctively he dug his hand into his back pocket. As if he were hiding something that wasn’t there. A habit from a young age, the habit of hiding that little blue pill, of hiding the only thing keeping him sane, just to remain insane. Just to remain insane with her.

          It was always her. She was his comfort, his support. She was special to him. A chipped fragment of a broken memory. As he tumbled back into the flurry of pain and blackness of his past, only one thing was clear to him- and it was her. He knew her since he himself was but a child. It was funny, really. She was probably what, thirty years old now? But he seemed to remember her best as a child.

          Shifting his eyes back to the walls of the closet, he noticed that every few moments, she would writhe under the blankets and let out another piercing scream. He could see that her rosy cheeks were dampened with the dark streaks of tears. She was obviously traumatized, locked in a nightmare. Her screams fell on deaf ears as she tossed and turned in her bed, eventually kicking off the sheets.

          They fell onto the floor. They were a soft white compared to the cold gray stone of the floor. A single shred of purity amongst all the immorality of the place.

          The girl was awake now, her gaze sweeping around the bleak, confining room. She stood up on legs that were too thin to support her weight, and walked lethargically towards the blanket. She quietly picked it up and sat back on the bed, her legs crossed. Then, as the clock hit midnight, she would smile. Her eyes would light up, and she would laugh. There was nothing really exciting to laugh about, but she would do it anyway. The sound of her laugh gave him a sort of warm-and-fuzzy feeling. A sense of security.

          He remembered when he himself was there. He did the same thing. Every night, he was plagued by nightmares. Even when he woke up, he was still trapped. The desolation of being confined to a cell crushed his soul, and the wild hope that he would be freed drove him to irrepressible insanity. He remembered when he would press his face against the bars of that cage and scream. Scream loudly, his voice raw with vulnerability and emotion, scream for help, for someone, for anything. But there never was anyone. There was only something- and that thing was that forsaken blue pill. That blue pill he was forced to shove under his mattress per night. That pill he was forced to eat, but never did. That pill that he knew would kill the only thing precious to him.

          Except her. Sometimes she would be there at the stroke of midnight. She’d sit on his bed, and she’d just smile and laugh. They wouldn’t exchange words, but simply take comfort in one another’s company. And after that minute, the only good minute of his day, was over, she’d disappear.

          It didn’t matter how short she stayed, as she never missed a night. Fake smiles and lovely lies, promises of good and angelic masks. Taking his medicine, sacrificing his reality. It took twenty years but he had finally been deemed “sane”. But once he had gotten out, she had vanished. She never came again. She was his reality, which was erased by the pills. And every day, he found himself missing her. He drove himself crazy missing her. She was always in his mind. She was the only thing in his mind.

          Sometimes right before midnight he would scream. He would scream and scream until his lungs gave out. Even then, when he had no voice left, he would still scream. But she never came. And because of that, this room was the only place where he could find any peace. He wouldn’t be able to touch her, to interact with her, but he could conjure images of her. And he liked it.

          Maybe being sane wasn’t as sane as everyone thought it was.

          He felt like a madman wandering the streets without the promise of her visit each night. Maybe she was the only sanity he had in his life.

          He had grown up his whole life, being told what was supposably normal, and what wasn’t. He had been given those blue pills, and told that he must eat them if he ever wanted to smell anything other than the reek of sin. He had refused, had screamed, had fought against the little blue pill. Despite his hatred for it, there was something about the idea of normalcy that appealed to him. There was something irresistible about the pill. So at one point, he didn’t even remember when, he had just stopped fighting. He had given in. So he had done anything he could to try to make himself the perfect image of normalcy. And that came with the ultimate sacrifice, as he had lost the only meaningful thing in his life. And all he wanted was her back.

          But she was gone. And all he had left of her were visions of her waking from her sleep, and laughing. Laughing without him. He was trapped in the past, and he couldn’t escape. He knew that without her he was but a broken shell. It had been a whole year since she had gone, but every night at one minute before twelve, he would still anxiously wait.

          He traced his fingers across the wall, almost remembering the soft touch of her skin. He glanced at the clock, seeing it read 11:58. Walking out of the closet, he flicked off the lights and watched them dim till they were like nothing but glowing coals, and immediately felt a crushing loneliness. He turned off the lights of his bedroom and sat on his bed, waiting till it was time.

          At 11:59, he began to scream.

          At 12:00, he waited for her to arrive.

          Maybe it was because it was the anniversary since her last time coming, or maybe it was because he had really gone insane, but for a split second, he thought he heard a soft giggle from behind him.

          Slowly, warily, he turned around, hoping she’d be there.

          At 12:01, he let out a shout of anger and knocked his bedside lamp to the floor, before getting out of his bed, going back to the kitchen, and took a single blue pill out of it’s packet. Hatred pulsed through him, a hatred for the pill, a hatred for what it stood for, a hatred for normalcy. Yet he couldn’t stop himself. It was drilled into his mind to eat the pill. Robotically, he lifted the pill to his cold lips.

          This time, he swallowed it.

November 12th, 2015

Wife Tells All, An Interview with Curley’s Wife

“My life’ll never hav’ much meanin’ t’ it, other than m’ bein’ Curley’s wife” (Question 10). Through the characterization of Curley’s wife, Steinbeck addresses the idea of women being treated not as individuals, but rather their husband’s possession during the 1930s. However, our interview also explores the regret of failed dreams, along with the desperation for companionship. My multimedia was two magazine pages that depicted an interview of Curley’s wife.

Curley’s wife is different to all of the other characters, mainly because of her gender. During the 1930s, women were defined by their marital status. Curley’s wife is depicted mostly in a negative way, but is also shown to be vulnerable. Curley’s wife’s materialistic attitude is depicted as she explains why she married Curley, saying that “he had the money” (Question 2), and though she never liked him, she thought that was of “little importance” (Question 2) to her. “I mean I s’pose I add a couple extra powders to maybe impress the farmhands” (Question 6). Through her response, it is evident that she is indeed flirtatious, and obviously seeks to attract attention from the farmhands, thus revealing a more seductive side to her personality. The vulnerable side is shown as she repeatedly talks about how she “coulda made somethin’ of” (Question 10) herself, and because of her past failures, and how because of this, her “life’ll never b’ happy” (Question 10). “I talk to em’, cos, well, cos “they ain’t nobody else” (Question 7). This quote depicts just her loneliness. She doesn’t really like the farmhands much, calling them “all a bunch of a-holes” (Question 7), and yet she still talks to them. This is because she really can’t talk to anyone else, and just like any other human, is lonely and desperately seeking companionship. “I’m m’ own individual person, but ‘course nobody treats me like I am” (Question 8). Curley’s wife repeatedly mentions about how she is like an object to be flaunted, rather than as her own functioning human being, to establish her being her husband’s possession.

The historical context is shown repeatedly throughout the interview. It is evident as she talks about how “the job range for women is limited” (Question 3), as during the 1930s, there weren’t many viable career options for women. It’s also mentioned that she likes movie stars such as “Shirley Temple” (Question 9), who were extremely mainstream during that time period. Furthermore, the general circumstances for people alive during the Great Depression are also evident, such as how everyone was much poorer, and she talks about how she only has “a coupla’ nice things” (Question 9), which is fitting that being a ranch owner’s son during the Great Depression, Curley shouldn’t be too rich nor too poor. The main indicator of historical context however, is most likely about the way she is treated as a woman. As there was still a lot of sexism during the 1930s, the multiple times where she talks about how “that unless I got married to someun’, someun’ with money, I’d be broke” (Question 2), about how a woman’s marital status defined the way they lived. Furthermore, it is also reinforced as she talks about how “nobody cares about me as an individual. Only m’ marriage” (Question 4), where she wasn’t treated as her own individual person, but rather as Curley’s possession.

The featured image can be found here.

October 23rd, 2015

Analysis of Mood: The Loneliness of Neverending Travel

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In the above photo of an impoverished migrant family, Dorothea Lange depicts a somber, and even desolate mood. The photograph captures a family, standing alone next to the road, seemingly waiting for someone to pick them up. The photograph isn’t bustling with other people, but rather seems only to show this family by themselves. Starting with the dominant element, being the family, the viewer can observe that the family isn’t dressed very fancily, with the children lacking footwear. This gives the impression of the family being potentially poor, setting a somber, negative mood. Furthermore, the subordinate element is the road that the family seems to gaze at. From the perspective of the camera, it appears to be a long, winding road, yet there are no other people walking on it, giving off a feeling of loneliness. Even in the background, although there are what appear to be little buildings, there are a few, if any, people. They are completely and utterly alone. Reflecting upon it, migrant families travel a lot, too much. They don’t have a place to call home, no place for them to settle down. Life on the road seem fun, but a never-ending journey would be terribly lonely. The dusty gray and brown color scheme of the photo also adds onto the feeling of abandonment in the photograph, as more dull colors such as gray often have a somber affect. In conclusion, Dorothea Lange’s photograph portrays the lonely and somberness of having to be an impoverished family.

October 14th, 2015

Mice and Rabbit Loving Lennie

Posted by Yaya in English 9  Tagged , , , ,    

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This is a found poem that expresses Lennie’s personality (or at least what’s shown of it from the first chapter). The first stanza is mostly describing his physical attributes, such as his “wide, sloping shoulders;” (4), with the metaphor of “the way a bear drags his paws” (6) to provide the reader with a clearer image. The second stanza delves deeper into his personality, describing his childlike traits, such as his childlike wonder when he “dabbled his big paw” (8). The third stanza shows more of how other people, namely George, thinks of him. How George acts more dominant, and is somewhat like a big brotherly figure towards Lennie. Moreover, it also shows how reckless and how Lennie doesn’t quite know between right and wrong, such as doing all the reckless things to lose them their jobs. The last stanza talks mostly about Lennie and George’s dream, and shows more of their friendship as they talk about getting a couple of acres together.

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