I-t uh, I, It, Ok. 

Dear Mrs. Genesky,

I was never heavily involved in the appreciation of literature in the form of words. I had always loved movies and music, but reading wasn't part of it all. I guess I had always viewed literature as a dated, and burdening task with no pictures or "cool stuff". Last year's English kinda sucked, no offense Mrs. Brown, I just didn't fit the criteria for a good student in there. It made me skeptical about this year, but I saw a lot of heart, and tough love coming from the other end of the metaphorical teacher's desk that exists not in your class. I could, and can still tell that you have properly nurtured the course of IB English. But that is not why I now, subconsciously, admire the class; it is that your tweaking and weird quirks have actually worked on a bad egg like me. You have showed me the beauty in literature, and I appreciate that very much. I changed from being sloth, to sloth and a bit of a poetry/ absurd literature-lover. This year had loads of ups and downs, but I really don't think I ever had a bad day in your class. I know, its cheesy, but slightly true. The holy trinity I value most now is that of music, movies, and some Whitman on the side. My eyes were opened this year, and had I not been in your class, I think they would still be narrowed.  I know I'm not so hot at writing, but I can sure as hell love some poetry now. Please keep up the good work. From one human to another; thank you for being a proper educator and educating me on literature appreciation. Below is a token of my gratitude, the most valuable words I have ever, or will ever hear.

"I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me... but it's hard to stay mad, when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst... And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life... You have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm sure. But don't worry... you will someday." -American Beauty (1999) 

Blog Post #14 

Whitman's (impossible-to-read) Notebook: 

In the first couple of pages it is easy to infer that Whitman is brainstorming for a future work. He is jotting down some ideas. It reminds me of making thumbnail sketches for a future art project. Through much decoding and cursive translators, the brainstorming nonsense looks like it is hinting at a possible dialogue between W W. and President Elect. His writing is hard to read throughout, but when I got to the bottom there were some very interesting sketches. It seemed like a couple self portraits, a harp, and an intriguing newspaper title, "The Bohemian". "The hills of Brooklyn... Here stood Washington/ The last war" read at the bottom as his potential poem. To conclude his journal he drew in a lovely skeleton, with its hear- torso pierced. It is all very convoluted. The entire journal seems like a train of thought. Whatever conclusions he was going for are hidden well in his book of evidence.

Whitman's (understandable) Notebook:

It looks like I was right about the alleged conversation between Abe and Walt. Whitman ties in a bit of religion and american-dream ideals to his brainstorming; mainly the idea of liberty. It isn't all connected very well, but it seems that he is bringing about a comparison of sorts to ancient or expired ideals. This is clear when he talks about the Jews and Greeks. These are sort of brushed under the rug, and this is paralleled to the past understanding of liberty. I beleive he is bouncing around the the civil war in his dialogue and talking about all of its fallacies as it is destroying the nation in a way. He is questioning the nation to guide it towards a better state. It is revealed that Whitman cared about the state of his environment and cared deeply about the righteousness of politics.

The Americans' Dream 

Since the birth of America, 2015 years ago, the idea of the American Dream has mindlessly flown through the heads of our great patriotic ancestors. In fact, some die hard Americans still believe in this "American Dream", to find them you must search the depth of any local NASCAR race track or shooting range. Historically, there have always been ideas that have changed America. These have been classified by the public as American dreams after they have succeeded. But they aren't really dreams, they are desires. These desires have ranged from freedom from England, emancipation, secession, material success, to basic civil and human rights. The reoccurring factor here is change. Change in society seems to be the true American dream. America will never be good enough, a group of hippies will forever be protesting some big government conspiracy, and people will always be struggling to get by. Each big change that leads us to our future will be looked back on as the American dream of its time. 

Wealth comes down to the beholder. A rich man might forever be poor in good spirits, and a poor man might forever be miserable. It really all depends. Wealth should be assessed when you die. Are you dying with regrets, or with dignity and happy memories. Personally I see it that wealth is not monetary and psychological, but the balance of the two. Supporting yourself and those who rely on you is simply getting by, as well as mental and emotional stability. Treating yourself and those around you, while feeling good about yourself is wealth. 

We view those impoverished as lesser peoples. They are weaklings in society and we take pity on them. It is unfortunate but true, even though they are just as human as the rest of America, they are looked down upon condescendingly. They wealthy are viewed as evil, and scheming villains looking to grab every penny they can and pay about 14% income tax... Everyone has a reason to hate everyone, wealthy and poor are just two more adjectives that separate Americans. I feel that there are a lot of poor idiots and a lot of poor geniuses. Life isn't fair to those geniuses. The same applies to the rich idiots and rich geniuses. 

 

#1:As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect.

• the syntax and structure of the sentence is odd, and not very fluid
• the only imagery derived from this is that of a bed and a large bug during the morning
• keeping the original name "gregor" gives the phrase a lot of cultural context as we can see it is not a normal english name

#2:Gregory Samsa woke from uneasy dreams one morning to find himself changed into a giant bug.

• the structure of this sentence is the most pleasing of them all 
• it is short and sweet, very straight froward
• imagery appears to be the same aside from there not being a bed, sometimes that detail can be implied
• the name is changed so it sounds more normal for the english language 
• the word "changed" is not as powerful as transformed as well as the word "bug"

#3:When Gregor Samsa awoke from troubled dreams one morning he found he had been transformed in his bed into an enormous bug.

• the syntax/ structure here is not so bad, the sentence itself sounds as odd as all the rest
• transformed, and enormous are both powerful words 
• the use of "bug" stands out as it is such as simple word
• as for imagery a giant bug comes to mind here
• keeping the name as gregor is a smart move

#4:One morning, upon awakening from agitated dreams, Gregor Samsa found himself, in his bed, transformed into a monstrous vermin. 

• the syntax of this sentence is that of what appears to be a run on sentence
• the imagery here is not of a bug anymore but maybe a rodent or lizard
• the use of the word monstrous really packs a punch
• and vermin is an interesting choice in vocabulary

How does the word choice, syntax, punctuation, and imagery shift in each affect meaning? Is one more effective than another? Why? What does this exercise bring up about the difficulty of reading translated texts? How do different translations effect the tone of the sentence? 

The word choice is probably the hardest choice the translator has to make. There is no real spectrum as to weather their choices are right or wrong. A lot of times writers (artists) are very snobby and mean, so they might think there peculiar, unappealing, and absurd word choice is the best of the best. The most appealing or normal sounding sentences are the simple ones. Not too complicated, not too many commas, and certainly not any ridiculous words that only nerds know. There is imagery in all of the sentences, but I believe it is because many readers have imagination. The only senses that these phrases are appealing are vision. Touch, taste, sound, and scent are left out in the details. 

The biggest difference in all of the sentences was the variations of "large insect" used. Such a general detail was altered drastically in each phrase. The affect of this was the weight of that detail. Monstrous vermin out shined giant insect, but it steered away from the word bug. The difficulty of reading a translated text is that you are not reading the original. It would be more effective to learn the original language of the book than to read a poorly worded and altered spin off. Some of the sentences seemed emotionless by the way they were translated. Otherwise, the tone seems very straightforward and stern in the sentences. 

thank you and goodnight to all, god bless  

mfw...

"I emailed my recording to you Mrs.G :)"

Chapter 2
This was all a long time ago so I might have some of it wrong; but my memory of it is that my approaching Tommy that afternoon was part of a phase I was going through around that time–something to do with compulsively setting myself challenges–and I'd more or less forgotten all about it when Tommy stopped me a few days later. I don't know how it was where you were, but at Hailsham we had to have some form of medical almost every week–usually up in Room 18 at the very top of the house–with stern Nurse Trisha, or Crow Face, as we called her. That sunny morning a crowd of us was going up the central staircase to be examined by her, while another lot she'd just finished with was on its way down. So the stairwell was filled with echoing noise, and I was climbing the steps head down, just following the heels of the person in front, when a voice near me went: “Kath!” Tommy, who was in the stream coming down, had stopped dead on the stairs with a big open smile that immediately irritated me. A few years earlier maybe, if we ran into someone we were pleased to see, we'd put on that sort of look. But we were thirteen by then, and this was a boy running into a girl in a really public situation. I felt like saying: “Tommy, why don't you grow up?” But I stopped myself, and said instead: “Tommy, you're holding everyone up. And so am I.” He glanced upwards and sure enough the flight above was already grinding to a halt. For a second he looked panicked, then he squeezed himself right into the wall next to me, so it was just about possible for people to push past. Then he said: “Kath, I've been looking all over for you. I meant to say sorry. I mean, I'm really, really sorry. I honestly didn't mean to hit you the other day. I wouldn't dream of hitting a girl, and even if I did, I'd never want to hit you. I'm really, really sorry.” “It's okay. An accident, that's all.” I gave him a nod and made to move away. But Tommy said brightly: “The shirt's all right now. It all washed out.” “That's good.” “It didn't hurt, did it? When I hit you?”  “Sure. Fractured skull. Concussion, the lot. Even Crow Face might notice it. That's if I ever get up there.” “But seriously, Kath. No hard feelings, right? I'm awfully sorry. I am, honestly.” At last I gave him a smile and said with no irony: “Look, Tommy, it was an accident and it's now one hundred percent forgotten. I don't hold it against you one tiny bit.” He still looked unsure, but now some older students were pushing behind him, telling him to move. He gave me a quick smile and patted my shoulder, like he might do to a younger boy, and pushed his way into the flow. Then, as I began to climb, I heard him shout from below: “See you, Kath!” I'd found the whole thing mildly embarrassing, but it didn't lead to any teasing or gossip; and I must admit, if it hadn't been for that encounter on the stairs, I probably wouldn't have taken the interest I did in Tommy's problems over the next several weeks. I saw a few of the incidents myself. But mostly I heard about them, and when I did, I quizzed people until I'd got a more or less full account. There were more temper tantrums, like the time Tommy was supposed to have heaved over two desks in Room 14, spilling all the contents on the floor, while the rest of the class, having escaped onto the landing, barricaded the door to stop him coming out. There was the time Mr. Christopher had had to pin back his arms to stop him attacking Reggie D. during football practice. Everyone could see, too, when the Senior 2 boys went on their fields run, Tommy was the only one without a running partner. He was a good runner, and would quickly open up ten, fifteen yards between him and the rest, maybe thinking this would disguise the fact that no one wanted to run with him. Then there were rumours almost every day of pranks that had been played on him. A lot of these were the usual stuff–weird things in his bed, a worm in his cereal–but some of it sounded pointlessly nasty: like the time someone cleaned a toilet with his toothbrush so it was waiting for him with shit all over the bristles. His size and strength–and I suppose that temper–meant no one tried actual physical bullying, but from what I remember, for a couple of months at least, these incidents kept coming. I thought sooner or later someone would start saying it had gone too far, but it just kept on, and no one said anything.....................

Grade: 7,742!Wow I am just, oh, wait, its actually 17...

My Understanding of the text would be a 4 because my references to the text were minimal, however it seemed like I had novice knowledge as to what the book was about

Effects of literary features would be a 7? I talked a lot about the first person pov its impact on the reader

Organization is a 4, I googled how to structure what I wanted to talk about so I think it worked a little

Language is a 2, I'm not so hot at speaking when I'm #nervous

earned it!

Gonna cash in a free bee for this week, please enjoy this photo for the mean time

http://screencrush.com/files/2012/11/281473_292279927539850_1634942372_n.jpg

Film noir literally means “black film.” As you are watching the film, keep track of all the elements in the picture that seem dark or depressing. Think about the characters, the setting, and the story-line.

Double Indemnity mixes tragedy, crime, love, and the beautiful valley of Los Angeles into a film noir like no other. I wouldn't label it as depressing, but it sure is dark. A real classic from its time. The film has the essence of watching the sky get dark on a rainy day without turning the lights on. 

Aside from the moving being in literal black and white, so where the events. There were no real happy incidents during the story. The love  between Walter and Phyllis was impure. The plot revolved around cold murder for money. No one really came out victorious in the end. If there was a finish line to the film it was never crossed. Everyone sort of died along the way, somehow. Every good thing in the film went sour just like Phyllis's tea. 

Most of the main events during the film took place at night adding to the "noir" characteristic of the movie. All the events during the day were simply not as meaningful or important. Walter, being the protagonist, faced he most challenges. His character was a clever one. He was a potential alcoholic, chain smoking, ladies man. He was a hard worker and would likely have lead a life without committing such a crime as murder. Until he met his greatest enemy. This really reminded me of the Beowulf movie. The beautiful blonde woman with the anklet that cut into her leg so perfectly, seduced and used Neff to obtain her fortune. Such a dark goal to try to achieve. Walter was blinded by her beauty and like an idiot in love, sealed his fate by acting upon stupidity. 

The only innocence the movie contained was poor Lola, left with no parents. Whose only friend was the very man that took her fathers life. She, and Keyes were kept from the truth. Two people that trusted Walter, and would never expect him to do such a thing, were probably ashamed and heartbroken the most by Walters crime. It seems that his desire for Phyllis caused everyone pain. That was his greatest weakness, love. 

 "I love you too" said Walter jokingly to Keyes. A phrase he onced used in his time of innocence. The film ended with Phyllis's death, Keyes' disappointment, Walters final attempt at making his situation a little better for himself as he sat in his own blood waiting to be taken away, remembering his innocence.