The 4th of July Tradition...

Some call it a party, others call it a moment to honor America's pride. I call it a tradition. Every 4th of July, my sister and I throw an extremely hectic party. Over time, each party has become more successful than the last one. To me, this is not just a party, this is a tradition that involves a madness. The madness starts 3 days before 7/4...In those 3 days, we clean the house, plan the food recipes, calculate our budget, clean the house some more, and prepare the food overnight. On the day of the party, I wake up early and work in the kitchen all. damn. day. Haha (: Even though I am drained of my energy by the end of the night after all of the fireworks have been lit and the crowd has departed, I feel that sweet tingling feeling inside of me, a whisper in my head that says, "We will do it all again next year."
I enjoy this tradition, this madness, and the birth of our country: the United States of America. <3

Tell Tale Heart Analysis

The narrator seems to be insane from the things he claimed he did. But in every "truth" told, there is a little bit of exaggeration, a little bit of lies, and a little bit of something that never happened. The narrator could be reflecting and explaining his actions after he is caught. However, because he is insane, it is possible that this entire scenario never happened--it was all him hallucinating.
If that was the case, then his psychological issues drove him to have an inexplainable hate against the old man. His strategic planning to kill the man was all in his head. The part where the narrator says he heard the heart beat under the floor planks suggests that the narrator was hallucinating. There is no way that a heart can still beat after the person was smothered to death and the body having been severed.

Why

Only the reflection in the half shattered mirror could explain her pain. I felt as if I knew her--but the memory was blurred. Holding groceries in plastic bags stretched out of shape, I stared at the abandoned car in front of me. Maybe I got it all wrong. This cannot be. What a beautiful day it was, with crisp, white snowflakes tenderly dropping from the ash, white sky, every house lit with fragrant candles, families gathered in together in living rooms cracking jokes, and children tumbling in the snow. She stared at me with icy sapphire eyes. Circles of gray trailed out of my nose with every breathe I exhaled. From her eyes, I saw the reflection of myself.

She pulled out pen and paper from her purse and scribbled down a word or two. She slid her hand across the crumpled paper on broken glass and ribbons of red started to swirl on top. Rich, cherry red dyed the paper a different hue, a different feeling. I said in my head that this was all too familiar. Kneeling down, speechless, I looked at the ground. The ground was once so serene and dear to me. But now, two red ribbons were intertwined to tell a story. To give an ending. We were all talking with our voices on mute. Many times I looked at her questioning if we were feeling the same thing. I could not tell what I was feeling, I only knew of coldness and chills. The red ribbons froze in the snow as droplets of tears washed away her makeup. Smudges of blackness streamed down her cheeks. A woman walked by and asked if everything was okay, then walked away as no one answered her.

We did not deserve this, if anyone asks. Maybe I did, but I know that she did not. It was all a fairy, a happy story until she saw the end. All those years of waiting, and she ends up sitting in a circle of red ribbon drawn from her blood. The sky turned pale gray and the snow continued to fall. The flakes were larger and looked more like milkweed than actual snow. She stuffed her sliced hand in the snow and shouted at the abandoned car, "You god damn motherf*****! Why?! Why?!" I did not know why and nor did she. Only the person hanging halfway out of the car door knew why. I guess it is too late to ask why.

The Fray - Syndicate

Halfway around the world 
Lies the one thing that you want 
Buried in the ground, hundreds of miles down 
First thing that arises in your mind while you awake 
Is bending you til you break 
Let me hold you now 

Baby close your eyes 
Don't open til the morning light 
Baby don't forget 
You haven't lost it all yet 

Don't know what your made of 
Til the one thing that you want 
To come in with the dawn and suddenly changes 
Monday, syndicate meets everyone the same 
But all we've lost to the flame 
Listen to me now 

Baby close your eyes 
Don't open til the morning light 
Don't ever forget 
We haven't lost it all yet 
All we know for sure 
Is all that we are fighting for 
Baby don't forget 
We haven't lost it all yet 

Someday when this is over 
We may still have no answer 
For now it's when I hold ya 
We are closer, we are closer 
We are closer, we are closer 

Baby close your eyes 
Don't open til the morning light 
Don't ever forget 
We haven't lost it all yet 
And all we know for sure 
Is all that we are fighting for 
Baby don't forget 
We haven't lost it all yet 

We are closer 
We are closer 
(We haven't lost it all yet) 
Now we are closer 
(We haven't lost it all yet)
We are closer 


Syndicate means a group of people or organization working together to carry out a goal. The song "Syndicate" gives a feeling that it is expressing a type of love that is going cold. Though sadness is major in this song, hope is a theme that is revisited in almost every other stanza. The poem refers a lot to time. We know that time changes, but life still goes on. In a way, it is saying even if things change, you will be okay and nothing or not everything is lost. "Halfway around the world lies the one thing you want. Buried in the ground, hundreds of miles down" is referring to something that seems to be so far away and unrealistic. "First thing that arises in your mind while you awake, bending you til' you break, let me hold you now," paints the aura that hope is lost. Then after the dark phase comes a lighter touch, "Baby close your eyes, don't open til' the morning light, Baby don't forget, you haven't lost it all yet" suggests that people can still dream and hope. "Don't know what you're made of til' the one thing that you want to come in with the dawn and suddenly changes. Monday, syndicate me, it's everyone the same, but all we've lost to the flame. Listen to me now" suggests that one doesn't not know his or her strength until the risks are high. Even if the most important thing is lost and there's nothing that can be done to change it, keep hoping. "Don't ever forget we haven't lost it all yet. All we know for sure is all that we are fighting for, baby don't forget we haven't lost it all yet," says that the process of accomplishing whatever is slow and risky, but keep trying. It is also saying we don't know how to back down and we don't know how to give up because it's painful--all we know and believe in is why we are working for what we are working to get. "Someday when this is over, we may still have no answer. For now it's when I hold her, we are closer, we are closer..." is saying how the troubles are never ending (and it may not be worth fighting for), but if we hope, things will have more closure.  

Reservation

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. That to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed. That whenever any form of government becomes destructive to these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness." -- Declaration of Independence 1776
No. This is how life should be, but unfortunately, this is not how the Indian reservations in Montana 1948 are like. Stupid, I know. In the book, Marie Little Soldier (Indian girl) worked at Wesley Hayden's house before she was put to death. "Put to death," was how she really died. An Indian girl murdered by a White man (Frank Hayden) only because she was the one with enough courage to break his dirty deeds to the world. 
Of course no matter what kind of crime one commits, there is always a consequence. However, though Frank's father knew about his crimes, he did not bother persecuting Frank. To come and think of it, it is quite hilarious when the father is a retired sheriff, yet he just stood there to support Frank. 
As for the victims on the Indian reservation, they did not speak up because they know that they cannot fight White men. Funny story is that all men are equal (or so they say), then why can't Indians ever be right about something? Why are Indians the ones that are always wrong? Why do people look down upon other people that are "equal" to themselves? Why? Why it is because truth is, people were never recognized as "equal" from the very beginning. If people on the reservations are treated as if they are less than dirt, then that quote from the Declaration of Independence is just a masquerade for people that are clueless. 

2011 Propagandas

In 2011, propaganda surrounds every individual on the planet. Turn on the T.V. and the world of business and politics flashes before one's eyes. Business and politics always uses propaganda to their benefit. The McDonald's logo: "I'm Lovin' It," and Dunkin Donut's: "America Runs On Dunkin'," in my opinion are examples of propaganda. I think that McDonald's and Dunkin Donut's logos are examples of propaganda because in reality, America does not really run on Dunkin. Point being, Americans can survive WITHOUT Dunkin Donut's and truth is, not everybody loves McDonald's (so, I'm not really "Lovin' It," but McDonald's tells me that I am...). In a way, these food corporations are falsely stating some people's opinions. The food corporations say these positive messages (using the words: "Love" or "Run") to show that they have the support of the people and that people rely on them. Honestly, we are probably better off without the large food corporations that produce unhealthy foods for half or most of the time.

Secondly, the 2011 mayor elections (dealing with politics) displayed a few propagandas on T.V. as well. If you have not caught one of the paid commercials from the people that are running for mayor, then you might not know what I am talking about. But, it is basically the bashing of certain individuals to make one candidate look better than the other one. By suppressing others and demonstrating the positivity of oneself, this is a propaganda. If you want to look at it simply, I really believe that every single advertisement or commercial is a propaganda. Welcome to a world of lies and propaganda.

Beat Street

In the movie "Beat Street," there are several unprofessional artists that are not appreciated by society. Their work and their existence is not accepted because they are not "professionals." There is a line between professional and unprofessional. But at the end of the day, art is still art. "Beat Street" shows viewers that graffiti artists and subway dancers are illegal. Very much like how some musicians perform in the subway, if they do not have a permit, they are escorted away.
In my opinion, art should be free. Graffiti should be legal. Subway dancers should be able to dance as they wish and subway musicians should have the right to express their art freely. Like how the movie shows, sometimes these artists cannot do anything else but to make art. If the law stops them from making art, then there is no way for them to make a living and survive. However, that is a little extreme since people can always apply for jobs like working as a cashier or janitor. But the point is that art should have complete freedom.

Hungry for Attention

Not everyone are hungry for attention. There are introverts that try their best to blend in with the environment and not be noticed. Then, there are the outgoing, crazy people that are thirsty for attention. In the book Black Boy, Richard is a child that is hungry for attention. He sets his curtains and house on fire, and gruesomely killed his pet cat to show that he is rebelling against the lack of attention he gets from his family. He wants to feel the love that others do in his family. However, when his mother tells him to go get the groceries and beat the bullies with a stick, Richard no longer wants the attention. But when he beats the bullies, he likes the attention that he is being recognized as an African American child who will not tolerate racism. In a way, Richard is not just an ordinary child that wants random attention by being annoying. He wants to be known and loved, not just another object on the planet. 

On Being an American Journalist

In this article, it talks about journalists of America writing about wars and such. This may not seem like a big deal (because people would usually think: Oh, they're journalists...all they do is write.), but in reality, they put a lot at risk when they write about wars. Journalists go out to the battlefield to see for themselves what to write about. They risk their lives for us to know the truth.


Well, writing is not much easier than going out to hunt for the truth. When they are reconsidering the facts and writing, a decision has to be made. "Should I tell it as is?...Maybe I can leave out some truth..." Ahh, telling the truth...That's always difficult to do. Humans are known to lie naturally (-cough cough men cough cough- :] jk), it would be no surprise that journalists twist the truth. However, Loren Jenkins decides to stand against that and do what she believes is right. Even though it is not guaranteed that ALL journalists are like Jenkins, but for the ones that do, they are greatly respected for their work.

King Still King?

"King still King?"
- I think, Yes.

Martin Luther King, the African American man that we have known (or studied) all through our educational career. Every now and then, people are reminded of him...It might be his famous "I have a dream..," or some ignorant teenagers down the street making a racist joke dissing King, reminding people of him. Born as an African American in the time where racism and segregation ruled above all, King chose to step up and show 'em who's boss. Just kidding, not really...But he did speak and fight against the mistreatment of African Americans. Because of this, he's forever remembered...But are we still as thankful as the people were during HIS time? Do we realize how big of a deal his hard work was?

In my opinion, because this is "history" (even though it was not that long ago), we are slowly losing the value of what King did. To most of us, MLK day is just another day off of school or work. We don't REALLY take a day off to think about or celebrate King's legacy. Instead, most of us take the day off for our own enjoyment. Based on this, it's sad to say, but King is no longer as "king-ly" as he was before.  

Children of the Sea

Children of the Sea.
How do you picture a nation? What do you see when you hear the word "children?" Is it love? Is it something glorious and prideful? Is it a peaceful nation that you see?

In Children of the Sea, the words, "glorious," "peaceful," and "love" does not exist. It is the story of Haiti. The lives of the citizens of Haiti are in disarray and danger is everywhere. People escape onto little boats to sail to a haven. The ones being killed were the ones that had differing political views than the government. It is a silent nation, where no one can speak. Freedom is bounded within themselves, and the hope to make a change is risky. In the story, two teenagers write letters "to each other," depicting life in Haiti. Cruelty, hate, and violence penetrate through everyone in Haiti, even children. How innocent and naive children are...but they go through far too much than a normal adult can withstand. Beaten by fear, they are left with no choice but to flee their home. However, the journey to search of a new life is not a guaranteed success. Often times, the boats sink, and all souls on board are "sacrificed." Sacrificed for what? For freedom. For a voice. For a change.