Images
1. The notes were as individual and perfect as a four pack of butter sticks.
2. She stood up as if her limbs were electrocuted erect at exactly the same time.
3. Forty eight frames per second in movies look as if one was watching a play take place on site.
4. The toddler stood there just like a melting ice cream cone.
5. The look on the woman's face looked as though she had received a gift from her husband that would have been meaningful had he been a four year old.
6. He had such little vision of the world that he could have understood more if he had bats taped over his eyes.
7. Her fur felt as though she had constant, consistent streams of water flowing down her back at all times.
8. The homemade granola bar tasted like the trail on which the inventor was treading on, as he was thinking of the idea for the granola bar.
9. His true age showed when he watched last weeks news with the same knowing, sad eyes of an old man.
10. The school had the same feeling as the twin tower's wreckage did.
11. When looking at this man, you would think that he had a child's handwriting, and would have a pronounced lisp.
12. She made it seem that he had forgotten her birthday and was worthy of being put a solitary confinement cell.
13. He seemed to be satisfied with the legislative compromise as he would be with his parent's divorce.
14. The zit behind my ear feels as though an enormous tick is embedded into my skin.
15. When in enclosed spaces, I feel as though the walls are not only coming towards me, but they actually have the intent of slowly sucking the life out of me just like the dementors of Harry Potter.
16. It scorched the inside of my mouth like a thousand little scorpions simultaneously clamping down.
17. The resilience she displayed was on an equal plane as a begging beagle.
18. It nourished his soul just as McDonalds nourishes the body.
19. The content of this man's character was about as questionable as the meet in a chicken McNugget.
20. This list of visuals displays as much talent as a five year old' turkey hand art project.
Sunday, December 16, 2012
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Rhetorical Modes
Subject: War
1. My ears are ringing. I'm in shock. My friend is in my arms and his eyes are struggling to hold any signs of animation that they used to. I hear shots firing around me, but they don't matter anymore. All I can think, or see is chaos that doesn't lead to anything. Why are we really here? There's some guy in power, but is that really something to kill ourselves for? Suddenly I'm being dragged away. I don't wish to go, but then I see that I to have been hit. I see the flecks of blood starting to form from my side. Why did I volunteer to put myself here?
2. When us humans have problems that have opposing sides that are grinding together like two tectonic plates, we seem to only be able to find war as a solution. This problem almost always relates directly to who has the power in economic situations and they lead to the end of many lives. When a war starts, there is patriotism usually behind the cause, both nations see the other as completely wrong and they feel that they need to expunge the other from the earth or at-least teach them a serious lesson. They send their most fit youth, who could be finding new forms of energy, or building bridges metaphorically and physically between bodies of people. Instead, they are sent to go kill the other prospects. Eventually, both sides see that their cause is no longer worth it, and the two sides do what they could have from the start and negotiate. Even when it's a one sided negotiation, both sides eventually meet in the middle. Always.
3. There are two sorts of wars. Both equally awful on the ground, and both equally disgusting. One being the likes of the world wars, and the civil war during '63-'65. This type of war is full fledged destruction. All things that fall into this sort of wars path it destroyed physically. Nothing remains. The other type of war being that, that is has been the most popular of the last thirty five years, and this is the terror war. In this sort of war, there is just enough fighting to get press and kill unnecessary amounts of people. But rather than decimating everything in its path, it leaves the eery skeletons of what used to be. It destroys enough to send its message of fear and terror to both sides, enough to convince both that the other side is in the wrong. This war drags on, and no one really wins because both sides are so vague in their specific intents other than the destruction of the other. Maybe the latter is the precursor to the former, only time will tell.
4. War in the context of the world is wrongly thought of as water in chemistry. Water is the universal solution, meaning that it can virtually dissolve or break everything down over time. In human thinking, war is thought to be able to break any obstacle down. As we are now seeing in the middle east, in Cuba in the 60's, and in the Versailles treaty, war is not the final solution that breaks the other down. This is because the obstacle involved is not meant to be broken down because it too is water. What we suck at, is appealing to each other want to be happy and satisfied. This approach would be diplomacy, which like war, would need work, but in contrast it appeals to humanities need for safety and coming together. Just as water particles have a need to stick together. It's a loose bond, but it is a bond that holds our world together. THAT WAS ALMOST AWESOME.
5. War is the inability for humans to compromise. Whether it be for right or wrong. War is the bloody conflict that takes place because two entities see themselves as too different and that the only solution is to get rid of the other side. Even as children we see violence as a solution to high friction situations. War plays on this childish lack of communication strategies, that then results in the destruction of our own brethren.
6. Every western country teaches about it and was deeply effected by its wrath. This being World War Two. In this illness that spread the world just as the plague, millions of Jewish men, women, and children were slaughtered for the reason that an ill man thought that they did not fit in society (I think I like the Hitler card too much). Springing from this mental instability, hundreds of thousands of men were sent to fight for their causes. Because of this, cities were destroyed. Economies crumbled, and scars were left on masses of people that will probably never be fully expunged. This is the power of war.
Subject: War
1. My ears are ringing. I'm in shock. My friend is in my arms and his eyes are struggling to hold any signs of animation that they used to. I hear shots firing around me, but they don't matter anymore. All I can think, or see is chaos that doesn't lead to anything. Why are we really here? There's some guy in power, but is that really something to kill ourselves for? Suddenly I'm being dragged away. I don't wish to go, but then I see that I to have been hit. I see the flecks of blood starting to form from my side. Why did I volunteer to put myself here?
2. When us humans have problems that have opposing sides that are grinding together like two tectonic plates, we seem to only be able to find war as a solution. This problem almost always relates directly to who has the power in economic situations and they lead to the end of many lives. When a war starts, there is patriotism usually behind the cause, both nations see the other as completely wrong and they feel that they need to expunge the other from the earth or at-least teach them a serious lesson. They send their most fit youth, who could be finding new forms of energy, or building bridges metaphorically and physically between bodies of people. Instead, they are sent to go kill the other prospects. Eventually, both sides see that their cause is no longer worth it, and the two sides do what they could have from the start and negotiate. Even when it's a one sided negotiation, both sides eventually meet in the middle. Always.
3. There are two sorts of wars. Both equally awful on the ground, and both equally disgusting. One being the likes of the world wars, and the civil war during '63-'65. This type of war is full fledged destruction. All things that fall into this sort of wars path it destroyed physically. Nothing remains. The other type of war being that, that is has been the most popular of the last thirty five years, and this is the terror war. In this sort of war, there is just enough fighting to get press and kill unnecessary amounts of people. But rather than decimating everything in its path, it leaves the eery skeletons of what used to be. It destroys enough to send its message of fear and terror to both sides, enough to convince both that the other side is in the wrong. This war drags on, and no one really wins because both sides are so vague in their specific intents other than the destruction of the other. Maybe the latter is the precursor to the former, only time will tell.
4. War in the context of the world is wrongly thought of as water in chemistry. Water is the universal solution, meaning that it can virtually dissolve or break everything down over time. In human thinking, war is thought to be able to break any obstacle down. As we are now seeing in the middle east, in Cuba in the 60's, and in the Versailles treaty, war is not the final solution that breaks the other down. This is because the obstacle involved is not meant to be broken down because it too is water. What we suck at, is appealing to each other want to be happy and satisfied. This approach would be diplomacy, which like war, would need work, but in contrast it appeals to humanities need for safety and coming together. Just as water particles have a need to stick together. It's a loose bond, but it is a bond that holds our world together. THAT WAS ALMOST AWESOME.
5. War is the inability for humans to compromise. Whether it be for right or wrong. War is the bloody conflict that takes place because two entities see themselves as too different and that the only solution is to get rid of the other side. Even as children we see violence as a solution to high friction situations. War plays on this childish lack of communication strategies, that then results in the destruction of our own brethren.
6. Every western country teaches about it and was deeply effected by its wrath. This being World War Two. In this illness that spread the world just as the plague, millions of Jewish men, women, and children were slaughtered for the reason that an ill man thought that they did not fit in society (I think I like the Hitler card too much). Springing from this mental instability, hundreds of thousands of men were sent to fight for their causes. Because of this, cities were destroyed. Economies crumbled, and scars were left on masses of people that will probably never be fully expunged. This is the power of war.
Monday, November 26, 2012
Image Deconstructed Reflection
The images presented on this website are all extremely intriguing. Each displays clearly discernible idea that strikes a cord with pretty much anyone. Reading about Diana Markosian who went into Chechnya and photographed the Muslim community. The pictures she took display the common interactions between the people in this area, that live in such extreme conditions. She uses the backdrop to portray the idea of the pictures. There is one of a couple, who are not allowed physical contact with each other until marriage, and the image shows them sitting on opposite ends of a bench, while the frame is rather large displaying the dismal blank winter behind them, making the distance between them even further. What was more interesting, was that Markosian's experience in Chechnya was as interesting as her pictures, and it furthered the idea of hardships in the area.
The images presented on this website are all extremely intriguing. Each displays clearly discernible idea that strikes a cord with pretty much anyone. Reading about Diana Markosian who went into Chechnya and photographed the Muslim community. The pictures she took display the common interactions between the people in this area, that live in such extreme conditions. She uses the backdrop to portray the idea of the pictures. There is one of a couple, who are not allowed physical contact with each other until marriage, and the image shows them sitting on opposite ends of a bench, while the frame is rather large displaying the dismal blank winter behind them, making the distance between them even further. What was more interesting, was that Markosian's experience in Chechnya was as interesting as her pictures, and it furthered the idea of hardships in the area.
Sunday, November 25, 2012
The Fam and Thanksgiving
My thanksgiving consists of delicious food, unrelenting business talk, a ping pong tournament, more food, board games, and naps sporadically intermingled with this whole extravaganza. I have always celebrated thanksgiving with my mom's side of the family. I'm not really sure why, but that's just how it is. My mom's side of the family consists of us, them, and my aunt's up north, ex-resort owning brethren. All in all, there are fourteen of us, three of the Strom clan, four of the Rabens, and seven of these up northers. Now, every year the Strom clan always likes to show up a little bit early to the Rabens household, which is actually a half an hour past when we were sappose to be because my mom really enjoys taking frustratingly long, and ill timed showers. When we do arrive, we always come in through the side, mudroom entrance. This may be for easier access tot he table, or some other mildly logical reason, but my inclination is that my Mom just enjoys being a little different. But we are always first to show around noon, and we help clean a little, make some coffee, just basic set up over all. My brother likes to tend to the cooking, my mom likes to help cook as well or help with some clean up, and I usually just sort of wander and talk to members of the Rabens clan, indirectly averting the eye of my aunt who will unquestionably force me into some mild chores. After about twenty minutes of this little circus, Grandma Harriet, who really deserves a class of her own comes to the door and walks her cute little self in. Grandma Harriet is an 83 year old, Macy's working ball of sweetness that could has a handicap parking pass, though she is probably more able bodied than most 50 year olds. When she comes, everyone of course must go hug her and ask her how she is, and then she usually takes up her post of setting out the pickles and the olives in a little tray every year because she "Always needs a little salty with her food." Then come my aunt's side of the family. First is cute old Grandma Nancy, who was born surprisingly on the same day as Grandma Harriet, who is a dear old lady that belongs to a little writing club. Accompanying her, is Uncle Jim. Uncle Jim is a character. He is a heavy set, 5'10" guy who has consistently for the last five years asked my brother and I about A. If we have a girlfriend yet. B. What movies we've seen lately C. If we've seen or read the last installment of the Twilight saga. He is always the first to take up a couch and doze for a couple hours. He also made it very clear this year that he was not a big fan of Obama's re-election in saying that because Obama won, he would like to purchase an automatic weapon, and a hand gun. These two, Jim and Nancy always come and set out their contribution to the meal, of which are actually very good, and then come the the rest of the northern clan. They are a clan of four, who are Eric, Jane, Scott, and Mary. They are all varying and different. Eric is the owner of a very flat, but sort of hilarious personality, Jane is a bubbly, and interesting woman, Scott has his father's monotone voice, but has a considerable amount more of youth and intrigue in him, then finally Mary is really just as her mother is, but slightly more self conscious in her soul searching. They too set their dishes out, and we all take part in that awkward, initial greetings.
From there we all eat food. Us "youngsters" get to go out on the porch at the kids table, though I am the youngest at sixteen and the oldest is twenty five so the title of the table is rather undeserving. But this table consists of me, my brother, cousin Ross and Blake, and northerner Scott, who has now lives in uptown. I have always been a little bit excluded from conversation because of my age and experiences, and this is still true today. What used to be chit chat about high school, accompanied by the overuse of swear words, has changed to talk of work at Ernst and Young, Target, and my brother's research lab, which is only more fervently accompanied by the overuse of swear words. I love this time of the day though. I really learn a lot, and when the food runs out and the older boys are getting heated about a subject in which they are arguing the same point, but just mildly rephrased, I sneak off to the wondrously furnished basement for a little afternoon nap.
From here, the Ping Pong starts, and this is the spectacular of the whole event. Each of the youngsters is paired with on of the older, less coordinated adults. This year I was paired with Uncle Jim, who in matches seemed to grow ever more frustrated when ever I would miss a ball. In this eight year long tradition, the winner usually boils down to which ever youth decides to hog the ball more. This usally ends up being my overly competitive cousin Blake. In fact, he's always in the championship, and his partner usually gets about 15% of the balls. By the fact that I'm writing this shows that it always has been a sore spot for me, who has never been graced with a championship. When the winner has been crowned, and the spray painted paddle, that has a turkey candle glued to it has been awarded, it's nap time number two, or in my case, I always like to see what little mechanical interests that my Uncle is taking part in. Uncle Steve like the rest of my family enjoys a slightly larger equator, and he works from home, selling different switches for countless mechanical processes. He is a man who loves hobbies, he has a huge garden, has three little Vespas, and enjoys wood working, so it's not surprising that he is a dreamer. This year he showed me some motorcycles that as can be seen from his search history, he dreams about on a consistent basis.
From here, some of the northerners leave, leaving just the urban Scott around, and we all amble over to the table for another round of feasting. By this time, we enjoy a very relaxed conversation on whatever, and cousin Ross pops off one liners at an interval of twenty seconds. We are all a little sleepy, so we attempt to keep the conversation alive, but us sleepy people make our way over to the T.V. to watch a British fixer up car show, while my peppy mom and cousin rile a few people up to play some board games. This livens them up and they get a little rowdy over apple to apples, attempting to cajole the judge at the time into choosing their ironically chosen card, and thus making lots of noise. After this, the night fizzles out, and we pack our food and games up. We say our goodbyes in a rather stereo typical hug, nice to see you kind of way and slowly make our way down the Raben's long driveway. Our night is then finished, and sleep is welcome.
My thanksgiving consists of delicious food, unrelenting business talk, a ping pong tournament, more food, board games, and naps sporadically intermingled with this whole extravaganza. I have always celebrated thanksgiving with my mom's side of the family. I'm not really sure why, but that's just how it is. My mom's side of the family consists of us, them, and my aunt's up north, ex-resort owning brethren. All in all, there are fourteen of us, three of the Strom clan, four of the Rabens, and seven of these up northers. Now, every year the Strom clan always likes to show up a little bit early to the Rabens household, which is actually a half an hour past when we were sappose to be because my mom really enjoys taking frustratingly long, and ill timed showers. When we do arrive, we always come in through the side, mudroom entrance. This may be for easier access tot he table, or some other mildly logical reason, but my inclination is that my Mom just enjoys being a little different. But we are always first to show around noon, and we help clean a little, make some coffee, just basic set up over all. My brother likes to tend to the cooking, my mom likes to help cook as well or help with some clean up, and I usually just sort of wander and talk to members of the Rabens clan, indirectly averting the eye of my aunt who will unquestionably force me into some mild chores. After about twenty minutes of this little circus, Grandma Harriet, who really deserves a class of her own comes to the door and walks her cute little self in. Grandma Harriet is an 83 year old, Macy's working ball of sweetness that could has a handicap parking pass, though she is probably more able bodied than most 50 year olds. When she comes, everyone of course must go hug her and ask her how she is, and then she usually takes up her post of setting out the pickles and the olives in a little tray every year because she "Always needs a little salty with her food." Then come my aunt's side of the family. First is cute old Grandma Nancy, who was born surprisingly on the same day as Grandma Harriet, who is a dear old lady that belongs to a little writing club. Accompanying her, is Uncle Jim. Uncle Jim is a character. He is a heavy set, 5'10" guy who has consistently for the last five years asked my brother and I about A. If we have a girlfriend yet. B. What movies we've seen lately C. If we've seen or read the last installment of the Twilight saga. He is always the first to take up a couch and doze for a couple hours. He also made it very clear this year that he was not a big fan of Obama's re-election in saying that because Obama won, he would like to purchase an automatic weapon, and a hand gun. These two, Jim and Nancy always come and set out their contribution to the meal, of which are actually very good, and then come the the rest of the northern clan. They are a clan of four, who are Eric, Jane, Scott, and Mary. They are all varying and different. Eric is the owner of a very flat, but sort of hilarious personality, Jane is a bubbly, and interesting woman, Scott has his father's monotone voice, but has a considerable amount more of youth and intrigue in him, then finally Mary is really just as her mother is, but slightly more self conscious in her soul searching. They too set their dishes out, and we all take part in that awkward, initial greetings.
From there we all eat food. Us "youngsters" get to go out on the porch at the kids table, though I am the youngest at sixteen and the oldest is twenty five so the title of the table is rather undeserving. But this table consists of me, my brother, cousin Ross and Blake, and northerner Scott, who has now lives in uptown. I have always been a little bit excluded from conversation because of my age and experiences, and this is still true today. What used to be chit chat about high school, accompanied by the overuse of swear words, has changed to talk of work at Ernst and Young, Target, and my brother's research lab, which is only more fervently accompanied by the overuse of swear words. I love this time of the day though. I really learn a lot, and when the food runs out and the older boys are getting heated about a subject in which they are arguing the same point, but just mildly rephrased, I sneak off to the wondrously furnished basement for a little afternoon nap.
From here, the Ping Pong starts, and this is the spectacular of the whole event. Each of the youngsters is paired with on of the older, less coordinated adults. This year I was paired with Uncle Jim, who in matches seemed to grow ever more frustrated when ever I would miss a ball. In this eight year long tradition, the winner usually boils down to which ever youth decides to hog the ball more. This usally ends up being my overly competitive cousin Blake. In fact, he's always in the championship, and his partner usually gets about 15% of the balls. By the fact that I'm writing this shows that it always has been a sore spot for me, who has never been graced with a championship. When the winner has been crowned, and the spray painted paddle, that has a turkey candle glued to it has been awarded, it's nap time number two, or in my case, I always like to see what little mechanical interests that my Uncle is taking part in. Uncle Steve like the rest of my family enjoys a slightly larger equator, and he works from home, selling different switches for countless mechanical processes. He is a man who loves hobbies, he has a huge garden, has three little Vespas, and enjoys wood working, so it's not surprising that he is a dreamer. This year he showed me some motorcycles that as can be seen from his search history, he dreams about on a consistent basis.
From here, some of the northerners leave, leaving just the urban Scott around, and we all amble over to the table for another round of feasting. By this time, we enjoy a very relaxed conversation on whatever, and cousin Ross pops off one liners at an interval of twenty seconds. We are all a little sleepy, so we attempt to keep the conversation alive, but us sleepy people make our way over to the T.V. to watch a British fixer up car show, while my peppy mom and cousin rile a few people up to play some board games. This livens them up and they get a little rowdy over apple to apples, attempting to cajole the judge at the time into choosing their ironically chosen card, and thus making lots of noise. After this, the night fizzles out, and we pack our food and games up. We say our goodbyes in a rather stereo typical hug, nice to see you kind of way and slowly make our way down the Raben's long driveway. Our night is then finished, and sleep is welcome.
Sunday, November 18, 2012
The image above creates a comedic scene playing off of an comedic idea. In this image, the two very manly men, Popeye and Bluto who are burly chested sailors, are paired together in as a couple which societally, playing off of the gay stereotype. The humor is furthered by the fact that the two are enemies and that the reasoning for this, is that there was some romantic friction. Again playing on the contrast of demeanor of these burly men, and that of the stereotypical gay couple. Then to add to this, they two men who got found their beginnings in the early 30's are in a contemporary social gathering. The purpose of this little comic may be to convey the idea that some unexpected people may be gay, and that in some instances there can be very unexpected partnerships. That may be reading into this light hearted comic too much, but it sounds about right.
This is a visual argument if used properly because in essence, it's a sad puppy. Its eyes are those big, pleading, wanting eyes that call for immediate adoption. The fact that it's a puppy makes it even more pity inviting because it makes it seem more innocent and helpless. Its stance contributes to the idea because it's pressing agianst the bars, almost pushing to get out of its little box. This image just calls for you to come and scoop it up in your arms and snuggle it up to your face until you finally feel that the moral wound inflicted upon you by this puppies eyes has been healed. Then this puppy is just an annoying pooping machine.
Sunday, November 11, 2012
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