Writing for HS, AM (Scalice, '07)
Brian Huynh
Posted by bhuynh at 2007/07/18 20:40:40 PDT

The second time that Carlos Bulosan met Marian, she was a kind, loving Caucasian woman who cared for him. Him and his two friends, Jose and Millar, had been ambushed and beaten by white men who opposed their labor union ideals. As Carlos’ grogginess wore off, he came to realize who Marian was. “This Marian: she was small, quiet, and lovely with long brown hair. Her hair- where had I seen it before? The girl on the freight train!” Pg. 213. Was it merely a coincidence that he would meet her before she died? Or was it a metaphor of some sort?
The first time Carlos met Marian was at the old train station at Sunnyside. Carlos had just arrived in America, and his former friend Julio had just left him. At that time Marian was a young girl, but was not new to America. She rode with Carlos on the train, but by morn, she had disappeared. Marian had left three hairs on Carlos’ shoulder, and instinctively knowing that he would meet her again, he wrapped them up to keep.
“The girl spread some newspapers on the floor and lay down to sleep. I struck a match and watched her face affectionately. She looked a little like my older sister, Francisca. There was a sudden rush of warm feeling in me, yearning to comfort her with the words I knew. This ravished girl and this lonely night, in a freight train bound for an unknown city. . . . I could not hold back the tears that came to my eyes.” Pg. 114

The Marian that Carlos first met on the rickety train had evolved into a woman who knew what was corrupted and what could be loved in their growing country. This ravished girl that had been abused on that train had grown into an accepting woman who gratefully allowed Carlos to live under her roof. “There was kindness in her face. . . . There was tenderness in her touch.” Pg. 210. She was different from the other white women and men who loved to use Filipinos for their sadistic urges. Despite the racial injustice against all the Filipinos, she neglected those thoughts to care for Carlos.
After Carlos is taken in by Marian, his lifestyles rapidly twist to new customs. Marian showers him with gifts that she had longed to give someone. He is no longer discriminated as a Filipino. Instead, with Marian at his side, he becomes transformed into a man with a social status of a civilized white man. “It was unbelievable that I could sit with a white girl in a famous place!” Pg. 216. The first time he encountered the racial difference between a Filipino and a Caucasian woman when he was dating Judith. “But one day, a Filipino and a white woman came to the restaurant to eat and were refused, I flung my apron away and attacked the headwaiter with my fists.” Pg. 173. The shock that comes to Carlos when this happens is enormous, but he recovers quickly enough so his emotions aren’t revealed to Marian.
The prejudicialness that he first encountered in America had completely disappeared without a trace. His view of America changed, from being full of ignorant fools who were sadistically racist to a society of caring people that didn’t cruelly beat Filipinos, but instead lovingly took them in and nourished them. Marian was one of Carlos’ fulcrums for his changes. One of the very first turning points in Carlos’ life was shortly after he immigrated to America. “He [Alonzo] was another who conditioned my thinking, who affected my social attitudes.” Alonzo was one of the first Filipinos that Carlos met, who campaigned for justice for his fellow Filipinos.
Carlos’ reaction towards Macario and Amando when he first met them in America was his shock of how they had changed.
“I noticed he had started using my Christian name.” Pg. 124.
“Now he had changed, and I could not understand him any more. ‘Please God, don’t change me in America!’ I said to myself, looking the other way so I would not cry.” P. 126
“He [Macario] had changed in many different ways.” Pg. 130.

Carlos had noticed his brothers’ transformations from their stay in America, but failed to notice his own. He is also changed by many other Filipino’s view of corrupted America.
“And perhaps it was this narrowing of our life into an island, into a filthy segment of American society, that had driven Filipinos like Doro inward, hating everyone and despising all positive urgencies toward freedom.” Pg. 121.
“‘This is a war between labor and capital. To our people, however, it is something else. It is an assertion of our right to be human beings again, Carl. But in order for you to understand what this struggle means to me, I’ll begin from the beginning of my life in the United States…’ ”
These words and statements from several others of Carlos’ closest allies forged a new relationship with America.
No longer was America a golden haven that promised wealth and prosperity, but was lavished with pimps, prostitutes, and racists, but it was a country that had strayed from it’s path, and would be changed. Carlos entered Pascual’s newspaper company in hope for reshaping his world.
“The agricultural workers were beginning to ask for unity, but had been barred from established unions. The Filipino workers started an independent union, and Jose was one of its organizers. I was happy to work with him, too. And happy also to know that in this feudalistic town the social awakening of Filipinos in California was taking shape.” Pg. 183

Getting hired at this diminutive newspaper business was a start for Carlos in his foundation for molding America in his heart. The New Tide, the newspaper that he and his friends had worked so vigorously on, had disintegrated when Pascual died. Carlos and Jose began to rebuild the Filipino’s Workers’ Association by themselves. The FWA was losing popularity, and the two men tried their hardest to restore the union back to its former glory. As they elevate through the ranks of the union, the higher they get, the greater number of whites who seek their deaths. Carlos and Jose are beaten in a final attempt to disperse the union when Marian reenter’s Carlos’ life.
When Marian’s sickness engulfs her immune system and dies, Carlos is left alone in the dank world, once again. He is diagnosed with tuberculosis, and spends another two miserable years living in a confined hospital. This change reforms Carlos life once again, just as how Marian, The New Tide, and Carlos’ brothers once did.


Posted by bhuynh at 2007/07/16 10:46:06 PDT
July 15th, 2007

My Brother Leon Brought Home A Wife
- Why did they go through the Waig, or the long way?
- Did they see any people on the Waig?
- What role did Labang have?
- Why did Leon/Noel teach Maria the song "Sky Sown with Stars"? What significance does this have with Father's interrogation of Maria?
- What are "clumps of andadasi and arrais" (pg. 12)?
- Why is Baldo's house called "the house of Lacay Julian"? Is Lacay Julian Baldo's father?
- Why were Baldo's Mother, Aurelia and Maria crying?
- Where did Maria come from? A major city of the Phillipines or from the US?
- What does the names "Maring" and "Mayang" mean to Baldo? Why was it significant that Leon didn't call Maria either of those two names? A: Maria is from the City or Manila. Baldo and Leon are rural people, so therefore, Leon doesn't call her Maring or Mayang.


Posted by bhuynh at 2007/07/11 19:01:57 PDT
Sadism, porno-sadism...etc

This is the world at it's end. We have come to love and devour sadism in movies; Saw III, the Grudge, the Ring and Kill Bill Vol. 2 are all terrible works of sadism. David Walsh is horrifically disgusted by all these movies that distract from the reality of life. In Walsh's article about Quentin Taratino's movie, Kill Bill Vol. 2, he muses over the possiblity of these fake sadistic events that are being used to distract the public about the real sadistic events that happen in real life. Abu Ghraib was a very real sadistic event that happened in Iraq, involving several Iraqi detainees that were tortured and brutally injured, just like Kill Bill Vol. 2.

David Walsh talks about porno-sadism as a metaphor. We enjoy sadism as we enjoy pornography. The sadism that we are watching is not in real life; it is exaggerated an put onto a film and a projector for thousands of people to watch. It is the same concept of pornograph, of watching sex pictures or videos about it. Although porno-sadism compares the way sadism is viewed, it also compares the emotions aroused by watching sadistic acts. When one is watching pornography, they feel aroused and a little more exhilarated then usual; obsessive sadistic views get the same high when they watch blood, spit and sweat fly across the screen along with several mutilated arms, a few teeth, and the lower half of a jaw.


Posted by bhuynh at 2007/07/07 21:35:16 PDT
Edited at 2007/07/08 16:26:06 PDT

The Response:

The essay is an interesting read. I didn't understand some of it, incuding the part about Nazareth, and the "words of Ezekiel". It was much more of a rant than a persuasive essay. The author drones on and on about how the rich people drink $100 bottles of champagne, have Hummers and great big mansions while others are suffering and dying. I realize that this is an important issue throughout the world, but I've read one to many articles like this. It merely seems like twenty six different letters rearranged into hundreds of different combinations.

I am not persuaded into thinking that the world is wrong and that we need to change the world. I realize that the world is corrupt and full of selfish dipwads that only want money for themselves, but there's not much we can do. Jose Porfirio Miranda's quote was confusing because I do not know who "Sarte" is. Despite that fact, I do agree with what he says. But as Fromm said, humans are part of the animal kingdom, and we do have some animal-like characteristics, although we have shed most of our instincts away. Miranda's quote is merely an example of how humans compete for whatever we need and want; a distant relationship with animals and their competition for food and water when their population exceeds the carrying capacity.


Posted by bhuynh at 2007/07/05 11:54:34 PDT
July 5th, 2007

Excercise #1
I swung and I heard a crack of the bat as I whipped the aluminum bat around.

I swung, with all my strength, and I heard a loud distinct crack of the bat as I quickly whipped the slender aluminum bat around.

Excercise #2
Tangible Nouns:
Laptops
Baseballs
Converse shoes
Green pastels
Arrowhead water bottles
Blackboard
Cheesecake
Green stick-note
Bushes
Fireworks
Fire
Fuse

Intangible Nouns:
Democracy
Communism
Diversity
Love
Hatred
Similarities
Religion
the Force
Emotion
Happy

Metaphors:
The fireworks of happiness.
The fire of emotions.
The fireworks of diversity.


Posted by bhuynh at 2007/06/28 10:43:00 PDT
Edited at 2007/07/05 09:43:55 PDT
I love baseball...

Baseball is my favorite sport. I have been playing for three years and hopefully for a fourth year for my high school baseball team. I have had many different, embarrassing, but fun experiences from playing baseball. One of the most memorable times of my baseball career was when I hit my first over-the-fence run. Despite the fact that it was a foul, and not a home run, I had still cleared the outfield fence and the ball had flown a good way past it.

It was my second at bat for that game, and I had a two - two count on me. The muddied baseball came hurtling at me for the fifth pitch and I readied my bat. I swung and I heard a crack of the bat as I whipped the aluminum bat around. The adrenaline in my blood spiked and with the small crowd and my team in the dugout roaring for me, I dropped the gray, metal bat, and sprinted towards first. I turned my head to see the baseball in mid-air, just barely clearing the left-hand side of the yellow left field foul post. My black cleats hit first base as I heard the umpire yell,"FOUL!" I glanced over my shoulder and saw my coaches running outside the chain-linked fence to pick up the beaten baseball. Although I was dissapointed that it wasn't a home run, I grudgingly went back to home plate for another hit and got a double.

Another unforgettable moment I have had from playing baseball was a few years ago when I was playing shortstop. There was a man on first, who was leading off, and the batter hit a pop-up to me. It was an easy catch, no blinding sun in my eyes, but yet, as it landed in my leather, eleven-and-a-half inch glove, I fumbled it. I can clearly remember watching my hands juggle the ball as the runner on first base tore from his spot and ran to second. I kept desperately trying to toss the ball to the second baseman, but it did not work. My coach yelled, clutching the chain-linked fence, "It's not a bar of soap!"

Eventually, I chucked the ball at the first baseman, but it was too late for an out. I was furious at myself for making that error, but eventually I let it go. I have made better plays in my life, but these memories will always stay with me.

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