RAPTURE!!!!

I am sitting here with Alexis Gaither reminiscing last Thursday night, one of the greatest nights to have occured in this room (C117) since the beginning of the year.
I don't even know how I can possibly write about such a ridiculous, existential, strange night in only a couple of paragraphs.
I guess I'll start with the rapture.
So, Josh Thorson was working on a center spread about the End of the World...and we decided that if the world ended at that exact moment, we would be perfectly safe in our bomb shelter of an editors room. We would also be the only ones left on the planet, so we would be forced to procreate. Yes, the editors would be  forced to continue the existence of life on the planet through reproduction.
I don't really want to visualize that image right now, but at the time, it just seemed like a typical send-out conversation.
We had a 10:00 pm deadline for the first time, which sounded like an impossible feat for us procrastinators. As we were eating our Leann Chin take-out, I decided that we should all save our fortune cookies to open right at 10:00, if we made the deadline.
Right after I called the printing company to say we had submitted our files, and as I was about to open my much deserved and much anticipated cookie, I see Motes dart from behind me. He moved faster than I knew was possible for him. He snatches the cookie out of my hands and crushes it into bits.
He says:
"THAT'S WHAT YOU GET FOR NOT INCLUDING ME IN YOUR RITUALS!!"
So that was the day that Motes crushed my dreams, and my good fortune.

Pep Talk!

You know what? There really isn't a test tomorrow. Or the next day. What is a test anyway? It's really just a pointless invention of our society in which were are given "grades." What are "grades" anyway? A way in which our superiors try to rate our performance by giving us a letter that will "define" our intelligence? If you think about it, this week's test is really just like any other day in AP Comp. We will read an essay, spit out some words that are subconsciously ingrained in our memory ("diction, syntax, parallelism, figurative language") and then EVENTUALLY be given a letter, JUST A LETTER. That's it. It's really nothing. Plus, AP Comp has been brain-washing and controlling us for the past 4.5 months straight. We know this stuff; it's kind of sickening how well we know it. So relax! It's not a test, a trial, or a rating. It's all in your head.

The Silent Voices of Human Trafficking

Human Trafficking is defined by the United Nations as an act of recruiting, transporting, transferring, harboring or receiving a person through the use of force, coercion or other means, for the purpose of exploiting them. According to the Polaris Project, in excess of eighteen thousand foreign nationals are trafficked annually just in the United States. This is a booming business that is estimated to have profits of $44.3 billion per year internationally, with the largest share coming from the sex trade. This video serves as a public service announcement (PSA). It argues that Human Trafficking is a cruel act that should never take place. It implies the warrant that the general viewer is not aware that this modern form of slavery is occurring to people in countries around the world and in their own country. The video implies that the act is hidden from the public due to its secretive nature and minimal publicity in the media. The purpose of this video is to raise awareness of the cruelties of Human Trafficking and to encourage the viewer to take action against it in any way they can: protesting the act and supporting restrictive legislation, providing financial support for organizations such as Amnesty International, or simply acknowledging the fact that it is occurring. The intended audience is anyone who is unaware of the nature of Human Trafficking or simply any member of society who cares about human rights. The video could also be targeted toward some people in countries such as the United States, Canada, England, etc., who subconsciously accept the stereotype that Human Trafficking does not occur in their own country, but that it only occurs in third world countries.

                The video begins with multiple images of faces of distressed people from around the world. These images invite the reader into the video by displaying the vulnerable faces behind Human Trafficking. Just by looking at these faces, the viewer does not yet know what the video will be arguing, but they feel an emotional connection with the people. The viewer sees these children, men and women and he or she feels as though they are not so different from his or her own reflection and own friends and family. By beginning with an image of Caucasian woman, the video appeals to the people in the audience who have the perception that human trafficking and slavery only occurs in third world countries such as Africa. We must acknowledge the fact that this act could even be happening in our own country and our own communities.

                The video then juxtaposes the previous faces by showing a couple of images without visible faces. This expresses the idea that although the victims of Human Trafficking are just like us, they have no identity in their reality. This is one of the many reasons to support the claim of the video that Human Trafficking rejects human rights. These photos inflict an eerie feeling of loneliness in the viewer.

                The photos were included to show the nature of the act of Human Trafficking. The photo of the buses packed with people is the first photo that hints at the crime itself, showing the transport of dozens of people. This photo, along with the following photo of the large quantity of money in various currencies, shows how Human Trafficking is becoming a massive business. It contributes to the main argument, that the act is inhumane and a major societal problem, by showing how thousands of people are profiting from it every day. These photos help to introduce the viewer to the crime itself and give logical reasoning (financial aspects) and emotional reasoning (the fact that someone is profiting from the sale of human beings) to support the main argument.

                The following two photos use blurry black and white colors to illustrate the domestic violence and devastation of women who are forced into slavery or prostitution. Photos 16-19 use symbolic graphics to represent the cruelty that these victims are faced with every day. The image of a woman inside a transparent suitcase on an airport security conveyer belt shows an actual protest and visual argument against the act of Human Trafficking. The woman is arguing that the trafficking of humans is equally as bad as stuffing a woman inside of a suitcase. The image is very identifiable with Human Trafficking, shocking the reader and making the topic of the video obvious. The wide-eyed look on the woman’s face, as well as the way she is trying to get out of the suitcase, shows the way that Human Trafficking victims are trapped. (This supports the claim that Human Trafficking is morally wrong). This feeling of being trapped is also expressed in photos 18-20. The photos of the women in chains present the disturbing realization that Human Trafficking is slavery. The photo of a woman’s foot with high heels permanently molded into the skin is one of the photos with the most emotional impact onto the reader. The disgusting image makes the reader feel the physical pain of a female prostitute sold through Human Trafficking. It represents the way in which these women’s jobs never leave them; their job is their life and the physical and emotional effects are endless. The photo of the barcode in the shape of a female silhouette also shows the inhumane way in which the lives of these people are given price tags.

                Next, the video presents photos of women with sealed mouths and chains, as well as a photo of hands on a window as if someone is trapped. (Serves as reasoning for cruelty of the event and that the reason we don’t realize it’s happening is because the victims have no way of expressing it) This shows that these trafficked people have no voice and are forced into their work; they have no way out. The next photos juxtapose this by acknowledging that we have a voice. We should raise awareness of Human Trafficking and try to prevent it from occurring.  This encourages the viewer to take action. The final photo of peace shows the final destination that we all hope to reach and tells the viewer that with their help, peace for all of humanity can occur.

The animations contribute to the overall tone of the video. The screen zooms in on faces at the beginning to make the viewer feel as if they are digging into the eyes of the person in the photo. Most photos transition by fading through black to show how Human Trafficking is often hidden from the public, like behind a black curtain.                            

The use of Radiohead’s song, “Everything in its Right Place,” provides a crucial emotional connection. The song starts off with gentle keyboard keys to play beneath the ambiguous images of various distressed faces. This adds an element of mystery to the beginning, allowing the viewer to question the reasoning behind the melancholy music and distressed expressions on the women. The transition into the lyrics consists of strange voices making quiet, dissonant sounds that give the listener the feeling of inner conflict. It takes the viewer from quiet mystery to chaotic distress and the feeling of being lost or of running away from something. This can represent how the victims of human trafficking feel lost and alone, with no way to escape the chaos. These sounds continue throughout the whole video, quietly beneath the lyrics. This shows how the feeling of distress is never-ending for these slaves.

                The singer then begins to say the phrase “Everything...in its right place…” This provides some irony for the audience. They see the photos of abused women and hear the melancholy musical line but register these optimistic words. The words are obviously in the wrong place for the reader. This represents the idea that many people see these women, the victims of human slavery, on the streets or in their community. We see these faces and believe that everything is alright and that these women are living normal lives. This video tells the audience that these people are in fact in a very devastating state that is simply hidden from the public eye.  

                The last and longest part of the song in the video is when the vocalist asks “What is that you tried to say?” These words give the impression that these men and women have no voice in their job, and that they wish they could speak up and escape their reality but are unable to. By repeating the phrase “tried to say” throughout the rest of the song, the feeling of being silenced and trapped gets into the heads of the viewers. It also enhances the purpose of the ending by making the reader realize that although the victims do not have a voice, we do. We can speak for the victims of human trafficking and help prevent the act from occurring.

               

               

Feliz Año Nuevo desde Costa Rica!!!

I thought I would post my holiday narrative that I wrote for AP Comp, since it describes what the remainder of my night will consist of. Even though no one but Alexis Gaither and Ms. Prokott read my blog, Happy New Year from Costa Rica!!!

Grapes, Suitcases, and a Costa Rican New Year’s

                It is quarter to midnight in San Jose, Costa Rica. I am scrunched next to my cousin Nana, her usual curls now thermally straightened and burnt smelling, courtesy of the hairdresser down the street. My slightly tipsy Tio Sergio shows off his English skills, or lack of, by belting out “Weelcowm to thee hotel Caleefornia” on karaoke. Forty caffeine and liquor-infused Hispanics sit on each other’s laps on the worn-out, freshly vacuumed couches lining my grandmother’s small living room. It’s the living room my mother played cards in as a child: the living room I have spent every New Year’s Eve in since I was born.

“Faltan dies para las doce,” the radio voice warns from the stereo like the voice of God. Ten minutes left. I feel like I know this mysterious Radio Man.  The way he rolls his rs like a deep-voiced mariachi has become as familiar as my uncle’s karaoke singing.  

My mom realizes she has forgotten to wash the New Year’s grapes and shrieks “ayyy, las uvas!” as she rushes into the kitchen.  She passes the bag of grapes around and we each grab twelve, a family tradition to wish for a prosperous twelve months.

The whistles blow, the fireworks erupt outside, and Radio Man leads our countdown: “Five, four, three, two, one…Feliz Año Nuevo!” With my mouth full of grapes, I join the tornado of strangling hugs and wet kisses that is making its way around the room.

Mid-hug, all I can think about is the suitcases: my favorite part of the night and the reason I wore my comfy flats. I shuffle through the flailing limbs to my cousin Meli and shout, “Las maletas!” We snag our suitcases and lead everyone into the cloud of firework smoke in the street outside. We sprint down the cracked and gum-covered sidewalk surrounded by crowded homes with metal gates and tin roofs.  We roll our suitcases behind us and holler “Feliz Año!” to the neighbors clapping at the feet of their driveways. To outsiders, we are a stampede of confused and hyper Hispanics running late to catch a bus to the airport. To our neighbors, we are just the Arguedas family doing our yearly suitcase run in the hope that the farther we run, the farther we will travel this year.    

I beat my cousin to the corner. “I’m going to Mexico!” I yell. I run to the next block, and the next, and the next. I see the coast of France in the distance. I run to India. I run to China. I check out the kangaroos in Australia and the penguins in Antarctica. When I am out of breath and realize that I am already three blocks from my grandma’s house, I turn around and pass on the suitcase to Tia Cynthia. She will most likely only get to Nicaragua, judging by the three-inch heels on her feet. 

New Year's Resolutions

I can't believe it's actually 2012. The year I graduate, the year I turn 18 and hence the year I can VOTE! As long as the world doesn't burn down around us tonight, it'll be a great year. Here are a few of my new year's resolutions:
1. STOP BITING MY NAILS! (A habit I've had since I was like 0 years old.) I currently have nails for the first time in my life...they are fake ones I got courtesy of Sally at the nail salon down the street from my grandma's house in Costa Rica. It's been crazy adapting to this lifestyle, but so worth it. I WANT NAILS.
2. Start caring about my health. Start sleeping more than five hours a night, start actually making use of those tennis shoes by going on a run every once in a while. Spend more time with friends and family and less time on the computer or in the Editor's Room.
3. Start playing that guitar that's on the floor of my bedroom.
4. Read a book for fun. In Spanish. And read the news every day. (or listen to NPR every day)
5. Work on being better at making decisions. Especially college decisions.
6. Stop getting lost while driving. I need to do something about this lack of directional ability thing.
7. Be less stressed. It's senior year and potentially our last year on this earth (mehhhhh). Make it count.

GET YOUR ORANGE HANDS OUT OF MY FACE.

Dear Cheetos kid,
I know I haven't seen your prematurely mustached face since you sat behind me in World History sophomore year. You were probably a nice kid but I can't seem to recall those details. I don't really remember a thing from World History. Except for the use of the guillotine during the French Reign of Terror. Would you like to know why I remember the guillotine?
Because all I wanted to do during that class was stick your cheetos-covered, freshly licked fingers under the blade and sever them from the rest of your filthy hands.
You are the reason I no longer eat cheetos.
It wasn't the fact that you ate an entire bag of cheetos puffs every single day, at 9:00 in the morning.
It's the way you felt the need to lick every single finger after every single time you stuck a cheeto in your mouth.
It's how your orange appendages forced me to remember a joke all the pre-puberty boys whispered to each other in 7th grade; it was the first time I ever overheard the phrase "jacking off". It involved cheetos. Thanks for the scarring flashback, bud.
It's how you raised your hand to answer a question and continued to chew on your cheetos with your mouth open and orange chunks stuck in your teeth while you talked about how you want to convert to Confucianism.
It's how every time I had to pass back a sheet of paper from Mr. Tillotson you decided to shove those flaming claws in my face and cover the paper in a film of sticky orange goo. I can imagine poor Mr. T grading your papers and trying to identify the orange, potentially toxic substance covering the corner of each assignment. I sure hope you got a grade drop because of it.

You must be blinded by a cloud of orange powder because you obviously don't see people's reaction to your eating habits. Unless it's the creepy girl from the Breakfast Club who shakes out her dandruff to pretend it's snowing, there is no member of the opposite sex that I can think of that would be sexually aroused by the sight of your fiery sausage links. Good luck asking a girl to prom when your face is smothered in that sticky concoction of spit and artificial cheese.
Thank you so much for helping me develop an innate ability to sense the presence of cheetos being eaten. It has succeeded in making me sick to my stomach for a good two years now.
Thank you for ruining my relationship with Chester the Cheetah.
I hope you puke orange chunks.
Sincerely,
Samantha

Thank you, AP Comp

I have definitely noticed my improvement in writing expanding to other aspects of my daily life. The other day I was talking to Alexis about how my form of speaking with friends and family has become more and more Prokottian (the AP Comp version of Orwellian). I have noticed myself using more random and quirky metaphors and concrete images in everyday speech. Earlier today my bedroom was freezing so I brought in my small oscillating heater and shut my door tightly. About two hours later, I said to my mom, "My bedroom is as warm as a womb right now." Who knows where I got the image of the womb (maybe it's from all those readings about babies we have read in this class) but I know that I would not have thought of that a few months ago. Lately, I have also been reacting to funny or unique occurences with the thought, "I want to write about this!" That's how the sock-matching blog post below came to be. I was looking at my unmatched socks on my feet and thought, hmmm that's a blog post right there! It has also made me a more observant reader. On Mopro source analysis sheets, I start subconsiously saying things like, "The writer damages his ethos with the line..." It might be brain-washing, but I am so glad I took this class before graduating because it has actually made a huge difference in the way I write, read, and look at the world.