Writing for HS, AM (Scalice, '07): Felicia Zhang

Chinese Squatting Toilets

(fzhang) — Wed, 25 Jul 2007 18:14:14 GMT

chinese squatting toilets...... very random

The squatting toilets in China should all be changed to the clean and flushable sitting toilets that we have in America. The ones in China today can be exceptionally hazardous, and the horrible stench coming from many of the public ones is enough to make people gag and throw up. Another reason is that people who collect money for others to go in their bathrooms would get better business if the bathrooms were cleaner and smelled much better.

Chinese squatting toilets can be dangerous in a couple ways. The tiled floor of some bathrooms usually gets very slippery with liquid and might cause an unsuspecting person to slip and fall. Possibly, the fall might lead to breaking a body part if the person hit the ground to hard. Also, squatting again and again can eventually cause pain in joints such as the knees. This is especially true for elderly people. Only some bathrooms have a separate stall with a sitting toilet in it, but so many people just climb on top of the seat, that it makes the toilet seat too dirty to sit on anyways.

The squatting toilets in China also emit terrible odors, especially ones that don’t flush. Many public toilets in the countryside are just ditches dug in a dark room with three feet tall wooden walls to separate the stalls. Those bathrooms attract many flies and other bugs that could be carriers of sicknesses such as cholera and tuberculosis. The sitting toilets in America on the other hand, are all flushable and do not smell as bad. Therefore, they do not attract as many flies, which lowers the risk of sickness considerably.

Another reason why Chinese squatting toilets should be replaced with the American sitting ones is because people who collect money in front of public bathrooms would get better business. At tourist stops, some people refuse to pay money for the bathrooms and just go elsewhere, especially if they were not accustomed to squatting toilets and the stench surrounding them. Even people who use squatting toilets everyday in China would not pay to go in public bathrooms if the stink was too unbearable. Though if people heard that the bathrooms were equipped with sitting toilets instead of squatting toilets, they would probably pay the fee—which sometimes can be outrageously high---to the bathroom money collectors with less reluctance. That way, both the money collectors and the people paying would be happier; the money collector would be happy because he would earn more money than before, and the paying person would be happy because the bathrooms would be much less smelly and cleaner than before, and the toilets would be flushable sitting ones.

So if sitting toilets were to replace the squatting ones in China, the bathrooms would be much better off. There would be no risk of slipping and falling or hurting knee joints, nor would there be a great danger of getting cholera or tuberculosis from flies attracted by the reeking odor. The change would also make many people such as bathroom money collectors and tourists happier because the bathrooms would be cleaner and there would be no lingering stench that could be smelled a mile away. Therefore, even though it might cost thousands of money to rebuild, the squatting toilets in China should be changed to sitting ones, because they would be safer, the smell would be improved, and the bathroom money collectors would get better business in the long run.

Analytical Essay

(fzhang) — Thu, 19 Jul 2007 00:18:40 GMT

might need some more editing....

Carlos Bulosan’s perspective of America changes throughout the story of his life. Whether the meaning of America changes, or just the way he looks at it is different, his perspective was definitely modified as he went through his days in America. In each part of his life and every time he encountered something life altering, his view of things became slightly different.

Bulosan’s first perspective of America was formed even before he set foot on the country’s soil. He pictured America as a way to have a better life, a place where he could go to school and learn. When he saw America from the boat he was taking, he saw a promising land, a land where he would make his home, as mentioned on page 99.

To all of the immigrants on board the boat to America from the Philippines, America was a place to start a better life. This was a typical thought that most immigrants—whether they were Filipino, Chinese, or Indian—had. They all thought they could go and do whatever they wanted; they could start their own business and grow wealthy or they could go to school and get a good-paying job to settle down in a nice home with a big household. As for Bulosan, his need for going to America was triggered by some important things that happened in the Philippines that led him to conclude to go to that far off country across the Pacific.

The first event was when he was working for American Mary Strandon in the Philippines. Miss Strandon’s neighbor, who is another American, had a houseboy named Dalmacio (page 69). Dalmacio read to Carlos from a book about Abraham Lincoln, who was a poor boy who grew up in a log cabin and later became president of the United States. This amazed Bulosan. If a poor boy like him could become the president of the US, then maybe he could become somebody great in America, too! Another important thing that led him to go to America was that his family was desperately poor, the father having lost all the land in order to pay for Carlos’ brother Macario’s education. In pages 281 to 282, Bulosan recalled an event when he was a child in which he ran away because then there would be one less mouth to feed in his home. He was finally brought home by a benevolent police chief and all was well again, but this event played an important role in telling how poor he was. He wanted to get away from that poor life and turned his hopes toward his travel to America.

So it is ironic when Bulosan was kicked out of the hotel he had stayed in on only his second day in America. He was also forced to sign a contract to work in an Alaskan fish cannery with harmful lighting and strong ammonia from the machines. Bulosan sadly stated:
“It was the beginning of my life in America, the beginning of a long flight that carried me down the years, fighting desperately to find peace in some corner of life.” (page 101)

That statement was very true, and as Bulosan unfolded his life in
his book, his view of America gradually changed. It changed from hope and faith in America, to disappointment, and possibly fear and hate. Again, like his previous perspective towards the country, the way he looked at it now was also formed by events that he had come across during his harsh life as a Filipino in America.

One event was when Carlos was randomly grabbed from a restaurant by two Caucasian policemen and was taken to a jail cell where a gun was aimed at his head.
“’Where did you come from?’ he asked.
I played dumb, pantomiming that I didn’t speak the language.
‘Are you Filipino?’ He was trying another angle.
‘Yes.’
Crack!
…His right fist landed on my jaw, felling me instantly.” (page 156)

Just because Bulosan was a Filipino, the two policemen had beaten him up. A series of events just like this one happened to Bulosan and many of his other Filipino friends and it led Carlos to eventually hate many Caucasian men. That hate sometimes drove him to steal, chase a white man with a knife, and once he had even though about robbing a bank. Little by little that loathing shrouded his faith in America, and slowly and simultaneously destroyed it, piece by piece.

From the time Carlos started participating in the Filipino workers’ movement and on, his perspective changed again, although it was a slow process and he got confused sometimes. White men still tortured him and the others, this time because he and his companions were Filipino and that they also participated in the Filipino rebellion. Yet, he didn’t have so much hate in him as before. Especially when the rebellion was getting to be stronger—thanks to his part in talking to the farm workers and his writing in the paper—he started to become optimistic about things and thought he had a chance in America once the Filipinos were finally heard.

Carlos also fell in love with a few white women, though all the relationships were fleeting and one ended with the death of the woman, Marian. The kindness the women showed to him was totally different from how other Caucasian people treated him, and this made him confused.
“I almost cried. What was the matter with this land? Just a moment ago I was being beaten by white men. But here was another white person, a woman, giving me food and a place to rest.” (page 209)

Maybe all the white people in America weren’t as bad as he thought. This made him have a bit more hope that eventually the Caucasians would accept the Filipinos and they would finally be understood.

Although the Filipino movement didn’t achieve the big success the rebels expected due to the outbreak of war, the president did pass a special proclamation stating that Filipinos could join the armed forces to fight. In that way, the Filipinos were able to unite with the other American soldiers to fight the opposing side, though Bulosan himself didn’t go to join the war.
In the end, Carlos realized that he really did love America; it was in his heart and that was where he spent most of his life. In America, he learned to love writing and books, face hardships, and seek love and friendship. That was his final of his three perspectives of America, and he cherished it.
“I glanced out of the window again to look at the broad land I had dreamed so much about, only to discover with astonishment that the American earth was like a huge heart unfolding warmly to receive me. I felt it spreading through my being, warming me with its glowing reality. It came to me that no man—no one at all—could destroy my faith in America again.” (page 326)

How My Brother Leon Brought Home a Wife

(fzhang) — Mon, 16 Jul 2007 17:46:04 GMT

Why did they go throught the Waig?

Why did the father ask if they saw anybody on the way?

How old is Baldo?

Why did Leon ask if Maria was making fun of him?

Why did Baldo's heart sink when Leon called him a good boy?

Why did leon drive the cart so fast when they drove into the yard?

Why did Baldo think his mother and sisters were crying?

Why did Leon and Maria call each other different names than their real names?

What is Castano and the calesa?

Where did Maria come from?

Where did the purple, red, and yellow bubbles came from when he looked at the sunset?

NOTE: use page #'s to reference to, especially novels.

Maria is from the city. She could have had two other names: Mayang and Maring. Leon and Baldo originally came from the urban areas.

Arguilla assumes his audience is Filipinos who read English, and Bulosan assumes his audience is anyone who read's English and doesn't know much about the Philippines.

They went through the Waig because the father told them to and the father didn't want Leon and Maria to be seen. Nobody passes though the Waig at night.

Castano and calesa is a horse and carriage. The father was testing Maria to see if she would accept the ways of the country with the buffalo and the cart and going through the Waig instead of the main road.

Maria and the mother and the sisters were crying maybe because of the joy of marriage.

Maria sang Sky Sown with Stars with Leon, a peasant song that Leon taught her.

The father seemed to accept Maria at the end, when he saw her and ended his interrogation with Baldo by asking if he watered Labang yet.

opposite themes

America is in the Heart: country countryside vs. world social issues
How My Brother Leon Brought Home a Wife: city life vs. countryside

How do they change or affect eachother in each story? (city and country)

Theme... question & argument

A
City adapts to country in the person of Maria

B
Country adapts in person of Carlos

Sin City review response

(fzhang) — Wed, 11 Jul 2007 17:22:40 GMT

In the review for Sin City, it states that it helps in the campaign to use bloody revenge and torture as a way to treat one’s enemies. I can’t agree more. In fact, the movie goes way over the top, as shown when the guy rips the killer’s arms and legs off and ties him to a tree for the dogs to eat him in “The Hard Goodbye” part. When the author quotes the filmmakers in the fifth paragraph, at the end they say, “This is human nature, brutish and cruel.” Is it really brutish and cruel??? It makes me wonder if the filmmakers are right in their minds. When I try to picture myself chopping a guy’s arms off, my mind goes blank. I can’t even picture myself holding up a chainsaw, much less hacking off another person’s arm! If that is what human nature really is, I must not be human then. So I don’t agree with the filmmakers and I definitely side with the reviewer. Why would anyone be attracted to such material? This is definitely repulsive and Walsh states his disgust clearly when he says that Sin City is a repugnant mix of adolescent (early-adolescent, at that) male fantasy, artistic unseriousness and misanthropy in the seventh paragraph.

However, Walsh also inserts a rather contrary point of view by spiritual Matthew Hill. Hill says that the movie shows that we all live in a Sin City, a city where we have to be rescued by a knight in shining armor, by God. He also says this is yet another movie about people’s sense of something not right in the world. I guess that is one—more appraising—way to look at the movie under all that horrifying violence. Yet I don’t think that is what the filmmakers intended. They just want to find an appalling way to create a story that will terrify people beyond words. So I still find the movie sickening.

Worldview Response

(fzhang) — Sun, 08 Jul 2007 17:15:45 GMT

As humans, we have a tendency to lean on each other. One side might lean more on the other, like the poor would lean more on the people wealthier than them for charity. The richer people would get annoyed after some time, and might start to give less and less to the poor. Yes, they don't give much in return, but weren't the wealthy the ones who landed the poor where they are now in the first place? Like the essay said, we drive all day in our nice cars and lounge all night in our houses, and most of us only contribute to the impoverished only when we are asked to pay for taxes. By doing this, we are, in a way, causing death to hundreds of people everyday, and casting many other hundreds into the street. As said in paragraph four, it is not that people don't have enough, but it is that others have too much. The wealthy possess money that could be used to buy a home for others, but do they readily give up that cash to the needy? Most would use that money to buy things they want for themselves, from clothes to fill up their overflowing wardrobes, to that seventh car "our five year old son would need when he's older".

I am not saying that the wealthy are the only ones to blame. The poor could always find jobs and work their way up to a higher class. But I agree, for the most part, with the Worldview essay. The essay has made me look at the world differently, not from the narrow perspective I usually view the world everyday, but I got to glimpse, if only for a moment, the way the author sees it. As told in the last few paragraphs, the responsibility now felt, though charged my guilt, takes form in hope; to re-forge the community into a better place, with the help of rich and poor together.

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Error (if it is an error):

In the first sentence of paragraph five -- The blatant inequality does not completely touch the heart of fundamental human guilt, however.

"the heart of the fundamental human guilt"

If I remember correctly, I though fundamental meant the basis, or the core of something. So if that is true, then wouldn't it be a bit weird if you said, "the heart of the core of human guilt"?

Just in case I'm wrong there's also another mistake:

$100 a bottle of champaine in the fourth paragraph

It's supposed to be a hundred dollars *per* bottle of champaine

but everybody probably caught that didn't day? Oh well

Descriptive Essay

(fzhang) — Fri, 06 Jul 2007 16:50:49 GMT

To tell the truth, I did not know what was going to happen at my interview for a scholarship to Tech Trek, a summer science and math camp created by California’s American Association of University Women. What will the interviewers ask me? I had questioned myself. What will they think of me? When I was given permission to walk into my science classroom, where the interview took place, I silently reviewed typical interview questions: Why do you want to go to Tech Trek? What are your favorite subjects in school? I would follow through and silently answer: I want to go to Tech Trek because I would like to learn deeper into science and math, two of my favorite subjects.

So when I sat down on the hard plastic chair, and the three interviewers’ questions were completely different from what I expected, I was surprised. They asked me about my hobbies, and what I was interested in, implying that they already knew how I did in school, and just wanted to get to know me better. Even then, I was uptight. I still wanted to impress them by showing them that I could do other things skillfully, too. Trying to concentrate, I attempted not to get distracted by the enticing coffee smell wafting into my nose from where my science teacher was typing away on her laptop across the room. Noise from the kids laughing and screaming outside traveled down the hallway outside the door as I babbled on about what I liked to do during my free time. I admit I got a little tongue-twisted, and I tried not to look into any of the three women’s impassive but piercing stares.

In fact, I tried not to see at all. I withdrew into myself as I concentrated on hearing the interviewers’ questions and thinking quickly on what would be the best answers, then sticking them into coherent sentences. When they asked me a question, I rallied an answer back, and they would bounce back another question. I told them about my trip to the state capital and how I talked with the senator, which they seemed impressed about. I also told them about my participation in my school’s Mock Legislature, and in this club called Math Counts. In return, they asked what sort of things I talked about with the senator, and if I learned anything from Mock Legislature and Math Counts. They also asked me about my essay that I submitted to them by mail earlier, and told me what they agreed with and what they didn’t agree with.

It went like that for some time, until the interview finally ended and the three women interviewers seemed satisfied from what they wheedled out of me. I was relieved that it was over and couldn’t help feeling hopeful that I might win the scholarship. I was very happy when my science teacher hugged me the next day, saying that the interviewers were impressed and that I would probably win the scholarship. It turned out my teacher guessed correctly, and two weeks later I received a letter from the Tech Trek camp at Mills College that congratulated me on getting in. Overwhelmingly excited was the closest to describing how I felt; it was my first scholarship ever, and I will remember the scholarship—and the interview—forever.