Writing for HS, AM (Scalice, '07)
Elliot Lee
Posted by ELee at 2007/07/16 10:46:01 PDT
Analytical Practice

Why did they go through the Waig?
What is the relationship between the two brothers?
Why did the father say if they saw anyone on the way there?
Approximately how old is Baldo [in relationship to Leon]?
How innocent is Baldo?
Who is Leon? And who is Noel?
Who or what is Nagrebcan?
Is Baldo giving the rope to Leon a representation of something much bigger?
Who is Monong?
Why did Father instruct Baldo to go through the fields? And why did he not tell Leon?
Who or what is Castano and the calesa?
It seems that the relationship between Leon and Maria is much different between Leon and Baldo.
Is Ermita beach where Leon and Maria lived before?
Maria = Maring, Mayang, Manong?

Urban vs Rural areas? Maria vs The Family
Leon's name changed to Noel.
Leon = Rural name (Filipino for deceased)
Noel = More urban name from Maria
Because of Maria's ideals, she will stay Maria. Not Maring, Mayang, Ringy.
What is the significance of the song?
Laughter goes out of Maria, close to house. Scared that the family will not accept her.
"Sky Sown with Stars" sung when Leon and Father sung in the fields.
He taught the song to Maria. Introducing her to his home in the countryside.
Trying to comfort and bring home.
Why did they drive down the river bed? [Waig]
Maria and Leon don't want to be seen?
The father wanted them to not be seen. Why?
Concern of who she is.
Castano = carriage. Calesa = horse.
Test to see how Maria would react to the rural stuff. (non-city, to see if she will fit in.)
She has high heeled shoes. Loves Leon.
Taking an effort to fit in with Leon. Becomes part of his life.
Crying with mother and sisters -- (1) Tears of joy, (2) Father is dying, (3) Father doesn't want to accept.
Last thing is the Father hears Maria sang with Leon.
Presumption, she will fit in.

------
Shows up from the war, takes plow from Father.
Picks up Carlos spins him in the air. Puts him back down.
Ideals from abroad are false. Younger and older generation differenciate.
Instead, immigrate into america. Ideals don't work in Phillipines. Must move to America.
Bare this in mind, what is America? America is Lincoln.
Leon brings home a wife (Maria).
Leon doesn't want to start a fire because Maria is not a virgin.
Virginity doesn't matter. None of anyone's buisness.
They get beaten. Move away. Never meet Leon again.
There is social backwardness. [ideals] That dominate this life. Younger want something different.
Carlos neglected to count how many kids stood next to his brother and his wife.
Argument: Depicts a Phillipine country side and Carlos stood it on it's head. Oppression and drives people to immigrate.
Analytical essay: Phrase them into a question. A question about themes. What is that theme?
Differences between city and rural life. Encounter between the two. Idyllic countryside yet have social problems.
In Bulosan, a difference between progress and backwardness.
Idyllic is not true. Work your ass off, still starving.
THEME: CITY VERSUS COUNTRY.
Question: What do city and country mean for Carlos Bulosan and Manuel Arguilla?
What is the relationship to city and country for "America is in the Heart," by Carolos Bulosan, and "How my brother brough home a wife," by Manuel Arguilla.
Argument: For Carlos, city is affecting country in a bad way. City is more modern. Countryside not adapting to the modernity. In the person of Maria, the city is adapting to country. At a social level,
THEME: MARRIAGE.
Illegal for Carlos to marry white women.
THEME: TRADITIONS
Fire for virginity. Bulosan thinks customs and traditions are bad. He dislikes them.
Leon: Good customs and traditions. Foregin to Maria, adapt otherwise.
THEME: AMERICA.
How is America a good and bad place, experienced by Bulosan
What does America mean to Bulosan and Arguilla.
Arguments are inside the book, not outside. The way he describes America. Experiences, words he uses.


Posted by ELee at 2007/07/11 21:05:29 PDT
Article Response

I, like many other people, enjoy violence in movies. I also, like many other people, enjoy a cocktail party in an abattoir. But, how far is too far?

While analyzing David Walsh's article, we have to ask but one question to ourselves: How far is too far? Is Uma Thurman removing Daryl Hannah's only eyeball from her face, too far? Is Lucy Liu getting scalpeled, too far? What about Mickey Rourke dragging some guy's face along the highway in his car? Is that going too far?

If you've seen nothing, if the pollutions of our media remain unknown to you then I would suggest you allow this article to pass unmarked. But if you see what I see, if you feel as I feel, and if you would seek as I seek, then I ask you to watch a gory movie and not say, "Whoa, that was awesome how he amputated that guys arms and legs and tied him to the tree to get killed by a dog."

Hell, we love violence. We live off of violence. We are a people based on violence. Certainly eliminating violence won't solve anything. But there is a fine line between violence for a cause, and violence for entertainment. Either can be pushed to extremes, however, oversight of either one can lead to catastrophe.

So you ask, how far is too far? Well, we'll never know.


Posted by ELee at 2007/07/08 14:00:19 PDT
Response

Here is a speech given by V, from "V for Vendetta," and anyone who reads it will appreciate the valor and beef of it all.

"Good evening, London. Allow me first to apologize for this interruption. I do, like many of you, appreciate the comforts of every day routine- the security, the familiar, the tranquility, repetition. I enjoy them as much as any bloke. But in the spirit of commemoration, thereby those important events of the past usually associated with someone's death or the end of some awful bloody struggle, a celebration of a nice holiday, I thought we could mark this November the 5th, a day that is sadly no longer remembered, by taking some time out of our daily lives to sit down and have a little chat. There are of course those who do not want us tospeak. I suspect even now, orders are being shouted into telephones, and men with guns will soon be on their way. Why? Because while the truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation, words will always retain their power. Words offer the means to meaning, and for those who will listen, the annunciation of truth. And the truth is, there is something terribly wrong with this country, isn't there? Cruelty and injustice, intolerance, and depression. And where once you had the freedom to object, think, and speak as you saw fit, you now have censors and systems of surveillance coercing your conformity and soliciting your submission. How did this happen? Who's to blame? Well certainly there are those more responsible than others, and they will be held accountable, but again truth be told, if you're looking for the guilty, you need only look into a mirror. I know why you did it. I know you were afraid. Who wouldn't be? War, terror, disease. There were a myriad of problems which conspired to corrupt your reason and rob you of your common sense. Fear got the best of you, and in your panic you turned to the now high chancellor, Adam Sutler. He promised you order, he promised you peace, and all he demanded in return was your silent, obedient consent. Last night I sought to end that silence. Last night I destroyed the Old Bailey, to remind this country of what it has forgotten. More than four hundred years ago a great citizen wished to embed the fifth of November forever in our memory. His hope was to remind the world that fairness, justice, and freedom are more than words, they are perspectives. So if you've seen nothing, if the crimes of this government remain unknown to you then I would suggest you allow the fifth of November to pass unmarked. But if you see what I see, if you feel as I feel, and if you would seek as I seek, then I ask you to stand beside me one year from tonight, outside the gates of Parliament, and together we shall give them a fifth of November that shall never, ever be forgot."

I believe what he believes. I believe that we live our lives, day after day, doing the same things-- and we feel good about it. "Because while the truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation, words will always retain their power. Words offer the means to meaning, and for those who will listen, the annunciation of truth. And the truth is, there is something terribly wrong with this country, isn't there? Cruelty and injustice, intolerance, and depression." And although this is Parliament, and although what Sir Thomas More deemed as Utopia in 1515, this "ideal society" has lost its meaning in our world. What we call unfortunate events and inadequacy is exactly what the author, in this so called "rant," is talking about in his second premise of his worldview. "How did this happen? Who's to blame? Well certainly there are those more responsible than others, and they will be held accountable, but again truth be told, if you're looking for the guilty, you need only look into a mirror."

This, "ideal society," is no more than a fragment of our imagination. Not because it's too far out of our reach, but because we're too far out of it's reach. This idea never changed, this feeling never changed, the only thing that changed was us; and it was for the worse. We allowed ourselves to believe that our government was going to put band aids on our every mistake, and that we had this mindset that whatever we did was meaningless. All the government wanted was our, "silent, obedient consent," in return for "peace" and "order". And that was our fatal flaw in the logic of libertarianism.


Posted by ELee at 2007/07/05 11:54:35 PDT
Word play

Undescriptive word: skinnier

Uncle Tony, the skinnier, Asian-version of Seinfeld's Jason Alexander, would make ribs.

Revised: Uncle Tony, the lanky and lean Asian-version of Seinfeld's Jason Alexander, would make ribs.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tangible nouns:
world, cake, pie, trees, anchor, glasses, mike and ike candy, light, Godzilla, trucker hat, cellphone, cookies

Intangible nouns:
wisdom, fear, hate, love, sadness, dreams, truth, thoughts, compassion, justice, religion, somber, feelings

Metaphors:
A cake of love
An anchor of hate
A light of religion
A Godzilla of dreams
A tree of fear
A pie of compassion
A glass of wisdom
A light of truth
A world of thoughts

Forms:
A anchor of hate
Hate is an anchor
Hate's anchor

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yellow:

Yellow is the color of new journies. The color of a new day in the brisk dawn of defeat. Yellow is the beginning, the end, and the start of all things imaginable. Light's yellow brings wantons light of heart. Versatility and agility..... :[

Chocolate:

Chocolate is the color of new journies. The color of a new day in the brisk dawn of defeat. Chocolate is the beginning, the end, and the start of all things imaginable. Chocolate's happiness brings wantons light of heart.

revisions: journies looks funny. strangely, it flows really well.

Water:

Water is the color of new journies. The color of a new day in the brisk dawn of defeat. Water is the beginning, the end, and the start of the flow of life. Water's effusion brings wantons light of heart. Versaility and agility able water to uniqueness and elusiveness.

Yellow/Chocolate/Water:

Fun is what connects these three things together. Water is fun. Chocolate is fun. Yellow seems fun. And yet, all these three things take different forms.

New words:

Red is the color of new journies. The color of the end of a harsh day in the brisk dawn of defeat, and the beginning to a new yellow. A new yellow brings wantons light of heart.


Posted by ELee at 2007/07/01 21:55:11 PDT
Descriptive Essay

I remember the old, abandoned tire swing in the backyard. It swayed like a gigantic pendulum in the faint wind from the stable, yet seemingly undependable, branch that it hung from. Behind the wooden fence of their backyard, swam lush grass over the voluptuous hills that ended with finely cut houses. In the same faint wind, blows the sea with unison and uniform of green for miles.

I remember a rusted, charcoal black barbecue that sat next to the tire swing. It was only used on family reunions and other special occasions. Uncle Tony, the skinnier, Asian-version of Seinfeld’s Jason Alexander, would make ribs. After being forced to try new variations of Tony’s different barbecue sauce, his family would be sickened until it was perfect. He would accumulate many different items and chuck them all together in a big stirring pot and wooden spatula. In the end, no matter what things he did or did not add to the pot, is what made the sauce special. They all mixed into something that was flawless in a certain way.

I remember my aunt’s laugh. It sounded like the death of a squirrel being pummeled by a truck. My cousins and I used to lock eyes at each other before cracking up the moment we heard it. She had bright, crimson red hair that deviated from most Asians’, and wore ruby pink lipstick to compliment.

I remember an old, wooden, grand piano that sat in the living room. Every key, no matter in what combination, sounded congenial with the acoustics of a tall ceiling. My cousins were geniuses and how they would improvise piano songs conveyed through many different tunes. On the couch that faced the same direction as the piano, we would just listen, think, or in some cases, sleep, as they continued throughout their harmonic melody.

I remember my cousin’s house.


Posted by ELee at 2007/06/28 10:24:34 PDT
Edited at 2007/07/01 21:56:21 PDT
Descriptive Essay

Messed up

Powered by Io Community Manager