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date: '2020-11-23T16:06'
- writing
- highschool
Magic Sea
“Some of the high points in me life was the time that I was on the Sea
of J’thi, and what a great sea that was! When I was a traveler every
single port on that ocean was friendly and safe.”
“Why were they so safe?”
“Because the protection of the Gratic Armada was heavily pressed upon
them! Criminals couldn’t slip into that place! Do you know about the
famous Gratic Navy?”
“Only minimally. I have heard that they had eyes everywhere, and they
had horrible tortures that their prisoners endured.” “Ah, that be
possible true. Their tortures were very bad, except for certain people.
You see, the Gratic way of punishment follows as this: They strap them
into a mental reality distortion device, and they cause illusions within
the victim’s mind. The fabrication created thusly allows the person to
view how their lives could be if they lived for a thousand years…in
“What of the eyes being everywhere? Did they have spies on constant
alert?” “Oh, the real reason is much better than that. The Gratic people
live in the water, correct? They developed a magic that allowed them to
observe everything in the water.” “Everything in the water? Their entire
land? I can see how that works now. Do you know their technique?”
“No, I don’t. I do know that they required a collection of people
projecting the enchantment over the long distances. If you were able to
learn this magic, you would see the entire ocean.”


@ -0,0 +1,135 @@
date: '2020-11-23T16:00'
- writing
- highschool
Animal Farm Symbolism
NOTE from Monday 30 December 2019
This writeup is very much based on how American history and civics were
taught in my primary and secondary education, and does not take into
account anything about the historical and political developments of the
Also I don’t think I understood the difference between allegory and
Also I am critical of American history from an early age; I had a sense
that something was wrong but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
### Animals vs. Humans
It seems that this conflict is between Empirical Britain and the
American Colonies. The reason is that not only is it the first
successful rebellion in history, but also the fact that soon the Farm
turned against its own principles.
### Humans
The Humans represent not only Britain, but many other European
countries, mainly in their maltreatment of their animals and colonies,
respectively. They whipped them without any conscience, and are very
much surprised when the animals revolted.
Another point to make is the mention of the human’s temporary belief
that the animals would never be able to surmount to anything without
human assistance, just as empires thought of their colonies.
### Animals
The Animals represent people in general. Not only diverse in appearance,
but also in intellectual talent. George Orwell seems to be a pessimistic
person, so naturally most people are very stupid, like the ducks or the
cows. The pigs are by far the cleverest, and so the reigns of power
immediately go to them.
### The Pigs
#### The Old Mayor
The Old Mayor symbolizes the ideas of John Locke and of liberation from
oppression. He also teaches the song *Beasts of England* to the animals,
that which might represent *Common Sense*, written by Thomas Paine.
The Old Mayor’s strange dream which starts off this story is a vision of
a Utopia of Animal kind, were everything was as good as could be He is
also the originator of the hate for Man, the parasitic life form that
“consumes without producing” His view of the Humans are creatures of
greed. The Old Mayor also forbade the adaptation of human mannerisms,
for he saw only evil in them, the indulgences of our foolish race.
### Moses, the Tame Raven
Moses the prophet who led his people to the Promised Land. The raven of
the same name seems to try to do the same thing, by telling tales of
Sugarcandy Mountain, the place were animals go after they die. Moses,
being a name derived from a religious work, signifies religion. “The
animals hated Moses because he told tales and did no work, but some of
them believed in Sugarcandy Mountain, and the pigs had to argue very
hard to persuade them there was no such place” This passage lends itself
to the “separation of Church and State” in the Constitution.
### “Equations” I made
Rebellion=American Revolution
Boxer and Clover=perfect citizens
Napoleon=Napoleon Bonaparte; greed; corruption
Snowball=purity, better leader, Old Mayor’s vision
Mollie=vanity; lazy upper-class
Sheep=blind sheep
Dog Guard=military
The Commandments=the Constitution
The differing clubs=Beauracracy
The harvest=economy
Pigs=ever growing power hunger, except Snowball
Timber sold to other farm=
Mr. Jones=King George III, monarchy
Battle of Cowshed=War of 1812
Snowball vs. Napoleon=Two party system
Windmill=Technological progress (Industrial Revolution)
Napoleon blame of Snowball=McCarthyism
Minimus=Glorification of “the Man”
Mr. Whymper=Foreign trade
The beds in the house=Huge governmental officer wages
Battle of the Windmill=World War I
Pigs’ Alcoholism=Political Corruption
Death of Boxer=Death of the American Dream? Death of morals?
The ceremonies=Patriotism
The pigs walking on two legs=class distinction
Final transformation=the failure of Liberty


@ -0,0 +1,7 @@
date: 2020-11-23T14:45
# Writing Index


@ -0,0 +1,48 @@
date: '2020-11-23T15:00'
- writing
- adulthood
Tuesday 31 Dec 2019
It was the last day of the year to buy those toys, to make sure that the
children would have a good ending to a good holiday season. It never
occured to Stephen that maybe, just maybe, toys weren’t the thing that
would last in their minds. If it did, he’d probably just say something
like, Well, the point is to make them like me now, right? So, Stephen
went about winning the holidays with some Christmas bonus money.
The last toy store he looked in was the last place to have it. Of
course, it’s always where you last looked, Stephen said to the cashier
as he told the story of his crazy day for the umpteenth time. The
cashier looked smiled at him, but she was probably just being nice.
The toy was one of those transformer kinds, the ones that have more than
one shape to them? Stephen didn’t get it at all. Back in his day, toys
weren’t collectibles: you had Johnny Rocket, Captain Stardust, and
Emperor Zatt and that was that. Everyone had nearly the same toys, and
they were happy about it. He spent his whole childhood making his own
fun, not this shit with the Hachibabies or whatever they were called. So
much money too. Why couldn’t they have stopped with the wooden blocks
when they were toddlers?
The instructions said to keep the egg in a warm place. Next to the
furnance, then into it, is where it should go. Alright, maybe he’s too
harsh on this stuff. It’ll make the kids happy, and that’s what really
mattered right now, right? I’m sure that the water dish that you are
supposed to put next to the egg is just for show.
The egg started hatching soon after 3 am. The pet’s first breath was
filled with peppermint and tinsel. She ate the tinsel. Then some more.
It started eating everything holiday related it could get it’s stubby
little fingers on. Yes, she had fingers, fingers enough to grasp and
grab and shove. She was completely done eating the living room by the
time the children were sneaking downstairs to peek at presents.
Eventually, they named it the Grinchlet.


@ -0,0 +1,65 @@
date: '2020-11-23T14:38'
- writing
- university
Friday 23 Jun 2006
Today is June 23, 2006. Friday.
I have a lot of crap to do today.
I had a dream last night…
We were putting on a play for the school or something. The Sellers were
there, walking around backstage and crap. There were couches behind the
curtain. A big one had Phil, Adam, Frankie, and a bunch of other people.
Adam threw his hands in the air and complained about Shannon. “When I
was a kid, I would take this pill, and my heart would be better,” He
made the gestures. Then he lifted his shirt to show strange scars.
“Once, the pill didn’t work, so they injected me.” He made the gesture.
“Once, both didn’t work, so they had to do it twice.” Apparently, he
thought Shannon was overreacting somehow.
Then, there was the part where (we were in the Middle School) Nathan
Martin was looking out the window. Down below, on the soccer field, at
hundreds of different colored caps and gowns. I told him he should go
down there and steal a purple one, than he could be in Pacific’s
graduation. I said only if there wasn’t anyone down there. We looked; at
first it seemed deserted, but then, looking closer, there were teachers
strolling around the field.
A football player suddenly threw a football to another kid on the field.
The began to fight, and teachers were thrown in to stop the fight, and
soon the whole left field was a battlefield of black mud. Nathan
proclaimed he was going down there. And he did, and I was worried that
he had gotten killed or hurt or something. Oh well. Weird dream. I think
I saw the Washington’s track team while driving to the school. Anyway.
Lots of weird crap.
Okay, so I have a lot to do today.
I have to:
- Pack
- Bathing suit
- toiletries
- Money
- Camera/ALL memory cards
- Cell Phone
- 3 ring notebook ?
- Talent Show::: tie, button up shirt, paper, make name tag
things, goofy pen, look over lines, CRAP
- Go to Wal-Mart
- Fill out the paper work
- Bring Money
- Cash that check
- Write Liz
- E-mail grandma
- Get all camera crap
- Get ready to go to Erika’s
- Do all the Talent show crap
- Sewing kit


@ -0,0 +1,61 @@
date: '2020-11-23T14:47'
- writing
- university
Monday 01 Mar 2010
Reading Response:
Kramer and Call 104-109, 54-59, 148
Today’s readings were about how to write a person speaking, whether or
not to directly quote them, and when. They also encouraged the
journalist to research more thoroughly and demonstrated their writing
Today’s readings were a little scattered in subject material.
“Hearing Our Subjects’ Voices: Quotes and Dialogue” by Kelley Benham, is
a bit schizophrenic on the first reading. First Benham tells us to limit
quotations, then Benham says to use full on dialogue, and then
demonstrates a full story. Benham is structuring the mini-lecture based
on the most extreme example, the one word quote, first, to grab the
reader’s attention, and then proceeds to show us longer and more
involved quotations. Naturally, if one is looking for straight advice,
this article can mislead with its scatteredness.
“Hearing Our Subjects’ Voices: Keeping It Real and True” by Debra
Dickerson is not an article that was written for people like me. It was
written for people trained in more traditional journalism. I already
have the mental framework for recognizing non-Standard English and its
“Doing Enough Reporting?” by Walt Harrington actually held my attention
for the short duration it lasted. The highest hope of anyone researching
a subject is to understand it fully, and this article is a call to
action for them, encouraging them to go further. Paul Hendrickson began
with academia, just like most—but then he went further, buying a
Speedgraphic camera just to make sure he knew exactly how it worked, he
“touched the leather.” Without using many abstract rhetorical elements,
this small article demonstrated what Harrington wanted to say with
minimal words other than the important ones.
A step in the other direction is “From Story Idea to Published Story” by
Cynthia Gorney, who takes us on a “tragic comedy in four acts” about
writing an article for the *New York Times Magazine* about a knee
injury. This article is a good contrast to Harrington’s piece, showing
us what happens when one has too much information. The process of
rewriting her story to allow for the narrative to show itself was a good
journey to be on.
“How I Get to the Point,” also by Walt Harrington, tells us how he
writes an article, tells us how he manages his work week. It is good to
peek over a more experienced shoulder to witness these things.


@ -0,0 +1,55 @@
date: '2020-11-23T15:04'
- writing
- adulthood
Thursday 09 Jan 2020
“Well, that was a complete waste of time,” she said as she was putting
her coat back on.
“Maybe not, though? I think you rushed out of there before he had his
Maev retorted, “The Sage is important to listen to.”
“I don’t know why y’all call him that, he’s just an old man,” Pensie
replied, “An old man who’s time came and went and he is still here.
“Maybe that means something though? The fact that he’s still here and
all the others have gone?”
Pensie considered this. Was she being too harsh? Well, it’s not like she
could go back in there now. Not now. Not after those things that she
thought so loud you could practially hear them. And maybe some of those
old stories about the Sages being able to hear your thoughts were
actually true. But then again, could he hear what she was saying now?
“Maybe you’re right,” she said, stopping her jog away from the tree
stump. “Maev?”
“Yeah, Pen.” “If I were to go back there right now, would people think
that I was crazy? Or indecisive? What would they… do?”
“Nothing. This isn’t the first time someone left a coven meeting early
then came back. We are a passionate and opinionated group.”
“Way to sell it short, Maev.” Pensie sighed. “Fine, alright, fine, let’s
go back in there and damn anyone who gets mad about it.”
“Fuck yeah!”
They turned towards the tree stump again, waiting for a moment in case
any randos were using it, then stepped into the magic circle. The circle
was wide enough to accompany about a dozen people if they were really
friendly with one another, but more like 4 people with reasonable
personal space. It was centered on the tree stump for easier locating.
Circles were really hard to see from far away, but they were obvious
enough up close. Obvious enough that even half-blind drunk people could
use it without getting sliced up by the magic. Although that is fairly
rare these days, with the PSAs and everything.


@ -0,0 +1,25 @@
date: '2020-11-23T14:55'
- writing
- 'year-of-desperation'
Saturday 29 Jan 2011
This is the freewriting for Friday and I;m spending the thridd day in a
row with aan and we are having a homework date at mokabees and I’m going
to sppend the first timed rrfreewrite here. I’m going for 65 mintues 5
mintues and I’m trying to typeas fast as I can onlyt worritng about
sepeed not nceccessaryitly about typeos. Hiplyy that you will
undertssaqtnd twhy tthis wont’ by able to read this later I’m going to
ype my haredrt about thisngs that reach my mind. I haven’t been writing
recently tahd that andd that is going to be a problem for my carrerrer
if I gondd don’t get on itt. My stime as been spent on SWSE and so
that’s taking a lot of my creative kefferots also the Corlro RPG stytem
as been taking some of my time as well. I hop theat kmaybwe I could
market that “market” of course meeaning finish it enough where some
people may like it enoguh to play it when I’m not aroijnd. I kinda doubt
it, but If yout the sistyen is good enough by it’s own merits, it’ll be
accepted in to the wordl and I’ll be happpty.


@ -0,0 +1,46 @@
date: '2020-11-23T16:05'
- writing
- university
Jeremy Richman
Hi, I’m Jeremy Richman– no, I don’t like the name, especially when avid
theatre goers like to do their impersonation of Zero Mostel from Fiddler
on the Roof when they learn it. No, really, it happened once. The guy
wasn’t nearly as big as Zero, but, he was grey haired, and was, in fact,
wearing a tweed jacket. That was the first thing that put me off about
him, that tweed jacket. I mean, who even wears those? English professors
with tenure? Someone who’s too poor to shop for new clothes, or at
least, doesn’t want to? So, anyhow, this guy, we’re all standing in the
street, it’s cold out, I’m wearing my Army of Darkness hoodie, and my
girlfriend at the time, Stacie Monhardt, well, she was… anyway, we just
came from a bar, Joey’s, and this guy with a tweed jacket comes out with
another guy and they start singing. Now, this fellow with tweed-man,
he’s wearing a nondescript windblazer thing, wearing glasses, and a
little less drunk. The song they were singing was “Wish You Were Here”,
and I don’t think that those guys were really big fans of Pink Floyd, I
just think that they were singing along with the radio that was on
inside. Maybe a father-son duo, I’m never to be sure. Anyway, so I’m
standing at the bus stop holding hands with Stacie but off in my own
little world, tweed-man bumps into me!
“I’m so sorry, my good man.. I’m just a bit drunk, you see.”
“It’s okay…”
“No, really, I’ve acted out of turn, I’m Adams, by the by.”
“And I’m Jeremy Richman.”
“Richman…Rich Man, by golly that play was on last night…”
The tweed-man suddenly started on a dance that I hope never to see
again. There he was, off sync with his own performance, and he’s nearly
fell over while swinging his arms, and now he’s spinning too much, and
ugh! He threw up all over me! It smelt of beer, salad, and more beer,
plus some other little nasty bits that Stacie found later when she was
soaking it that I don’t even want to try to understand.


@ -0,0 +1,31 @@
date: '2020-11-23T16:03'
- writing
- university
All four of them were in the fenced in city playground, waiting. What
for, they did not know, for they all had been lead here by some same
force, and insidious darkness that was watching them from afar.
“So, what do we do now?” Vernon asked. His palms were already sweaty. He
didn’t feel comfortable at all since they took his protective gloves
“We do as we were told: wait.” Norma repeated what the mysterious tape
recorder had said earlier. And so they waited for a little while longer.
Vernon paced a little more, now attempting to writhe his hands free of
the darkness he sensed in them.
“Finally.” All four of them jumped at the vocalization. Spinning around,
they intended to locate the source of the disturbance, however, they
quickly gave up, resigning to quiet panic.
Out of the darkness came a figure. Not even when looked closely upon did
Norma, Vernon, Greg, or Dr. Fredrick recognize any hint of familiarity.
We all know him, of course, as Rodger Perkins.


@ -0,0 +1,47 @@
date: '2020-11-23T15:02'
- writing
- adulthood
Wednesday 01 Jan 2020
So, I started out this morning thinking that I was going to write a
fragmentary short story like I’ve been doing, but I think that sometimes
it should be okay for me to just do diarize as well.
This is the start of a new decade: is it going to be better than the
last one?? I don’t know. I never had much truck with calendrical stuff
like this before. I’ve been far too cynical about it in the past.
I think that my goal for this decade is to finally come into my own,
with freelancing and writing and everything. I want no masters but
myself, and I must be a good stewart of my own destiny. I know this all
sounds like horseshit, it’s 5:27 right now and I’m not running at full
speed here.
One thing I was thinking about yesterday was how much I want to be an
author. It is the overridding desire right now. And if I am to do a
master’s degree, I’m going to write a book as a thesis. That is both
exciting and scary at the same time, that possibility. What would the
book be about??? I have no clue. I imagine that the genre-esque ideas I
have could very well be rejected out of hand. I could try to do some
kind of magical realism, but I’d need to read a LOT of that in order to
be able to do it properly. The appeal of the magical realism is that I’d
take an idea and go all in on it, a full exploration of the narrative
consequences of the magical reality that I’d create. I kinda like the
idea of doing something about cosmic doorways appearing just as normal
doors (or at least, normalish doors) kinda like in Monsters Inc or the
doorways in Minecraft.
Like, what if the doors had to be made out of a particular species of
tree, and that tree was threatened by climate change? Or, if not a tree,
then what about a certain material? Is that material going to be super
rare, and therefore the world economy is shaped by the extraction of
that particular mineral? When were the doorways discovered?
The project would neccessitate creating an entirely different book as a
“fictional encyclopedia” of the new physics, or a real encyclopedia of
uses of magical gateways in fiction in general


@ -0,0 +1,74 @@
date: '2020-11-23T16:08'
- writing
- highschool
Toni Theo
Toni gave the taxicab the finger, fully erect and waving. She wasn’t too
happy to use this gesture on someone with whom she really didn’t know
anything about (really), but life sometimes makes silly. She figured she
might as well make the best of things and fully enjoyed the taxicab
driver’s face as he speed away…leaving her to her own.
The docks weren’t that great of a place, but Toni didn’t have many
options. Within a few minutes, she didn’t find anybody, and she assumed
that the place was deserted. She checked the front of the index card in
her brown leather purse: “The Docks. 8:00pm. Alone.” Sighing, she sat
down to wait…
After a bit of waiting, she decided to check her Timex. It clearly
stated 9:46pm. This made Toni, at best, *irritated*. She knew these guys
were big time, and big time usually includes punctuality, right? She was
awash with emotive thoughts: some of them concluded that the guys were
hacked, some believed they were testing/toying with her, and still yet
another realized that her watch was on Eastern Timex, and that the guys
were probably on Mountain time. That left her to be and hour and
fourteen minutes early, as opposed to them being an hour and forty six
minutes late. She sat down near one of those horrible boxes again, and
waited more…
‘Okay,’ Toni said to herself, ‘now I am officially at three hours, and
they haven’t shown. I didn’t come here to get pneumonia’. At this point
in time she had given to withdrawing her arms into her blouse to keep
her upper body warm. She *really* wanted to take off her high-heels but
she feared frostbite, and with no one to help her, she would not be
happy about that. Just when she was about to give up waiting, a car
appeared– the fog enshrouded it at first, but it turned out to be a
silver hatchback, which is what she was told to look for on the back of
the index card: “Hatchback. Silver. Four men.” The four men opened the
car doors, removed themselves from the vehicle, and slammed them shut;
very much like they were in a film about gangsters. They all approached
Toni in an overly-coordinated linear formation, and their faces were set
to “intimidation” mode.
The intimidation didn’t remotely work. “Hey, jackasses! My Timex says
11:00 Eastern Time! You were supposed to be here an hour ago!”
The bald one (farthest to Toni’s left) looked at his Rolex, “My watch
says 8:00. We ain’t an hour late, lady.”
Suddenly, the blonde, wavy-haired one (to the immediate right of Rolex
Baldie) poked the Rolex with his index finger, “Wait! Ain’t we on
Pacific Time?” To this remark Rolex Baldie’s face crumpled like an
insect slammed together by heavy Bibles. A self-served slap in the face
completed this effect.
“You mean to tell Toni Theo that you guys were on the wrong time too?”
Toni “Theo” Ryans: Is she crazy? Why does she think she is a god? Is
she? We won’t ever officially know, but this question is the driving
force of her character. She believes she is a god, therefore she can do
anything she wants, including killing any normal human, and cursing
anyone she needs dead.
The Finger: The curse Toni uses to kill others.
Gregg Chesterfield: Crime lord that Toni conflicts with. Toni believes
that Gregg is a god too. What if she is right?


@ -0,0 +1,21 @@
date: '2020-11-23T16:02'
- writing
- university
Both of them were looking to break something, anything, as long as they
didn’t get caught. The metalyard seemed a good scouting place.
‘I’ve got this thing.’ Jess picked up a ballpin hammer, no visible
trademark. She tried to wipe some of the rust off on her pleather apron,
but it came off like brown street chalk. ‘This must’ve been from way
back in the day; it’ll do fierce to somebody.’ She posed, gripped the
hammer tightly in her smalll, dirty hands, and swung at an invisible
assailant. ‘Take that, po-po!’
‘Hey, what about this?’ Colin meandered over to half of a shopping cart.


@ -0,0 +1,16 @@
date: '2020-11-23T14:59'
- writing
- adulthood
Monday 30 Dec 2019
It was a terrible morning for Arthur Blintz, the accountant of the gods.
Actually, it had been a terrible eon, but this particular moment in time
was by far the worst. It was peak misery for a professional working with
immature beings.
The world was new, and it had to be organized, dammit.


@ -0,0 +1,27 @@
date: '2020-11-23T16:05'
- writing
- university
Just To Pass The Time
The hammer spun towards the window, the centrifugal force bouncing the
sun’s rays as water from paddles, and the glass, also as water, cascaded
down the walls of the old shoe factory.
Jessie Collins didn’t know what he had just done. He thought that he was
just passing the time —no one cares about a window, no one cares about
the old shoe factory, no one even cares about shoes anymore— but the
moment metal hit window, alarms tripped and television monitors blinked
on, revealing the incident to the entire security staff. Old eyes gaped
open wide as the smart-camera’s 1000-frames/second view gave them the
hammer’s trajectory, momentum, and predicted impact information. 0.34
meters and 3425 frames later, the hammer hit the impact site.
J. Heissler, the senior officer on duty, we reminded of the ancient
, and manufacture-license:


@ -0,0 +1,75 @@
date: '2020-11-23T14:44'
- writing
- university
Monday 08 Feb 2010
Reading Response:
Friedlander and Lee 133-157; Kramer and Call 28-35
Today’s readings taught us about interviewing: how to find out who you
are interviewing, how to manage interviewing appointments, how to make a
friend within 240 seconds, how to keep them talking and asking the right
questions. It also had a discussion on audio recordings.
The first major point that caught my eye was the idea of making a friend
within 240 seconds. When put in those figures, is appears to be both a
large number and an intimidatingly little amount of time. Make a friend,
a true friend, may take months; to get very comfortable terms with that
same person takes a very long day at the very least.
Two hundred and forty seconds…that’s barely enough time to properly
reheat frozen food, let alone to make a complete stranger a friend.
But then I began thinking about it, and I came up with two examples:
Last week I was helping out a friend of mine, Mary, move into her new
apartment, two doors above mine. One of those nights, another friend of
hers was helping as well. His name was Ben, and I knew I wasn’t going to
like him within the first 240 seconds I met him. He reminded me of
someone that I’m not on good terms with now, one of those people that
insult to amuse themselves, even if it isn’t a mutual experience. I got
a “bad vibe” from him.
Before the Ben episode, I was studying abroad in Costa Rica. One of the
last nights my class was there, a complete stranger appeared in my host
family’s house. He was Peter, the man from Munich. I ended up walking
with him and his other German friend Alex all the way to a chicken shop,
which was closed. I didn’t know the man at all, but I made quick friends
with him.
…so, even from the last month, I’ve already learned how quickly
friendships can be formed.
The other thing that I noticed about the articles was the discussion
about the audio recorders. As I was reading the text, it became obvious
to me that they were describing analogue tape machines. This book was
published in 2007. Are analogue tapes still the industry standard? What
about digital?
I personally have a digital recorder. Sure, it’s old, has the USB cord
missing, and I no longer have the program disk for it, but hey, it still
I picked up the thing, and tried to turn it on. No response.
I open up the battery door, and I find that one of the batteries leaked
blue powdery corrosion all on the inside of the unit.
Oops, I guess I left that thing sitting unused for too long. Nothing a
new, unleaky pair of AAAs won’t fix.
A 6-pack and more than \$5 later the damn thing still won’t turn on.
Oh well. Nothing a pad of paper and a pen with ink won’t fix.


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date: 2020-11-23T14:49
- writing
- university
Monday 12 Apr 2010
Reading Response: Friedlander and Lee 307-320; Kramer and Call 164-178
Journalism is fact-based, truthful writing that tells a story. Today’s
readings focus on how to be truthful in an ethical sense. In the
Friedlander and Lee chapter on ethics, their discussion initially quotes
the First Amendment, but then makes the argument that theoretical total
freedom of speech must be curtailed, then ends with a lecture on forming
your own ethical standards…within their guidelines. The Kramer and Call
readings that I chose focus on individual experiences of ethical
This curtailing of free speech that Friedlander and Lee discuss comes in
the form of laws governing libel, invasion of privacy, and copyright.
This section is very important to what we have learned in this class.
What crosses the line between interviewing and invading? When does
“tough but fair” portrait become libel? There is also the discussion of
plagiarism that sounded very familiar to students of all ages, but the
legal aspect was a new one. Maybe copyright law should be taught to
college freshmen composition classes?
Another thing that caught my eye was the mention of the Comic Magazine
Association of America and their ethical guidelines. This ethical
standard that Friedlander and Lee do not mention by name is the Comics
Code Authority, formulated in 1954. Here is the Wikipedia rendition of
the rules:
- Crimes shall never be presented in such a way as to create sympathy
for the criminal, to promote distrust of the forces of law and
justice, or to inspire others with a desire to imitate criminals.
- If crime is depicted it shall be as a sordid and
unpleasant activity.
- Criminals shall not be presented so as to be rendered glamorous or
to occupy a position which creates a desire for emulation.
- In every instance good shall triumph over evil and the criminal
punished for his misdeeds.
- Scenes of excessive violence shall be prohibited. Scenes of brutal
torture, excessive and unnecessary knife and gunplay, physical
agony, gory and gruesome crime shall be eliminated.
- No comic magazine shall use the word horror or terror in its title.
- All scenes of horror, excessive bloodshed, gory or gruesome crimes,
depravity, lust, sadism, masochism shall not be permitted.
- All lurid, unsavory, gruesome illustrations shall be eliminated.
- Inclusion of stories dealing with evil shall be used or shall be
published only where the intent is to illustrate a moral issue and
in no case shall evil be presented alluringly, nor so as to injure
the sensibilities of the reader.
- Scenes dealing with, or instruments associated with walking dead,
torture, vampires and vampirism, ghouls, cannibalism, and
werewolfism are prohibited.
- Profanity, obscenity, smut, vulgarity, or words or symbols which
have acquired undesirable meanings are forbidden.
- Nudity in any form is prohibited, as is indecent or undue exposure.
- Suggestive and salacious illustration or suggestive posture
is unacceptable.
- Females shall be drawn realistically without exaggeration of any
physical qualities.
- Illicit sex relations are neither to be hinted at nor portrayed.
- Violent love scenes as well as sexual abnormalities
are unacceptable.
- Seduction and rape shall never be shown or suggested.
- Sex perversion or any inference to same is strictly forbidden.
- Nudity with meretricious purpose and salacious postures shall not be
permitted in the advertising of any product; clothed figures shall
never be presented in such a way as to be offensive or contrary to
good taste or morals.
I’m sure that Friedlander and Lee don’t want to associate personal
systems of ethics with this long list of censorship rules, but it’s fun
to think of it in that way.
The Kramer and Call readings offered a more personal approach to the
formulation of ethical standards. Roy Peter Clark gave two simple rules
to follow: Do not add. Do not deceive. Walt Harrington tells us that
feature writers owe their honesty with their subjects, their editors,
and their audience. Isabel Wilkerson writes about empathy and its role
in ethical journalism. Tracy Kidder and Katherine Boo both talk about
reporting with consent. With these writers, we get a look at the
personal ethics that Friedlander and Lee talk about.
These readings essentially encourage writers to treat their subjects
like people. Be human to the humans that you study. Editors and their
rules get you paid but the subjects are giving their time, money, and
attention to you—which is arguably more important in an intellectual


@ -0,0 +1,24 @@
date: '2020-11-23T15:02'
- writing
- adulthood
Monday 06 Jan 2020
The solubriousness of that word was just incredible, said Nelly not
knowing what the word even meant. It’s almost as if words have no
Sorry, I’m a bit drunk and writing things down as I think them. We don’t
ususally go to fancy dinner parties, especially not the Sandersons’.
It’s just that “multitudediousness” is not a “solubriuos” word.
It’s a twenty dollar word
She said, oh, well excuse me for trying to be fancy! And you should
drink less.
\[oh man, I need to start listening to people again\]


@ -0,0 +1,61 @@
date: 2020-11-23T14:57
- 'year-of-desperation'
- writing
Thursday 10 Feb 2011
freewrite feb10, '11
so here I am alone in this house that isn't mine, it's just after 1 o'clock and
I am all alone in this house that isn't mine, it's Melissa's and Andrew's house
and I am all alone in it. I assume that each is either working or sleeping now
and I am the only one awake. I went to sleep at 6:30 this morning and now I am
awake, alone, in this house. It is just after 1 o'clock so that means that I
was alseep for just under 7 hours, I really must sleep more often because I'm
not getting the right amount of sleep for me, I think that I need 10 hours all
of the time. This will not work so well with our 24 hour a day society. Perhaps
I will forge my own time clock when I can, but more than likely I'll just fall
in line with the others, because I cannot afford to do so otherwise. I've
contemplated the idea of creating a zero energy house with sustainability built
into it. The idea is that the house would be 3 to 4 floors, but deep in the
ground. The whole house would be cradled in earthquake absorbing materials, and
the idea is that I would use the lowest amount of earth's surface area for the
volume of the house that I would want. I don't know how the calculations would
go, but that's the idea of it being under the ground. Plus, being under the
ground would reduce the costs of heating it, even more so than the air-tight
sealing that would come from being an energy zero construction. I would have
turf planted on the roof, along with some deeper soil for some small plants.
However, the roof would also have a solar panel/radio tower/weather station,
that would serve as a hub for a local P2P network of my devising. I would have
a computer specifically for my local niehbors(sp) to connect to and store their
files onto, or perhaps just have an agreement for a local shared files thingis,
only for community creativity stuff? The house would have those windows that
heat water from absorbing sunlight. I am imagining that my house would have 3
to 4 layers.
The ground floor is where all of the entertainment stuff would be. The
projection room is where the home theater is, with various types of seating,
improved surround sound set up, and the projector. At this point, I'm sure that
viddy games would be projector compatible to some degree. If not, then there is
a TV monitor around for that purpose. (I wonder if projectors have any
different energy costs? If so, than this idea might be changed to project as
special event status) I'll call it the Escape room. The kitchen has...I'm not
sure about that yet. The dining area would be directly connected to it, with a
sliding door separating them. (I have a feeling that I'm going to have quite a
few sliding doors in my house...because it's like you have the power to
rearrange your walls, dude!) The Escape room would not be so close to the
dining area, but close enough to the kitchen for movie snacks. The Entry way is
where the front door would be, and is kind of an airlock effect for sealing
purposes (I'll have to do research on how low energy houses do that) Coats,
shoes and other dealios would be stowed there. Next on the list is the Library.
Books, art, the physical copy of any movies or music media that hasn't been
pirated, anything that is "opaque" is displayed in the Library. I'm thinking
that it would be next to the Escape room, separated by a sliding door. It needs
to be far away from the food rooms. And that's probably the full capacity that
the first floor would have. Next, just under them, is the...and I'm running out
of steam for this. Until next time!


@ -0,0 +1,31 @@
date: '2020-11-23T14:58'
- writing
- adulthood
Saturday 28 Dec 2019
They were the first ones to see the coming doom, and they were all for
it. They of course being the ones who also caused it. They were the
ender daemons, and they were just doing their jobs.
It was this world’s time. The celestial experiement had to end at some
point. But then, they got a notice to keep THIS one running. Why? No
answer. So they let it run. They kept getting conflicting reports from
beyond about when to end this experiment. Should it go now? No, let it
run for a few hundred more cycles. How about now? No, now it’s getting
They decided to visit their experiment, noncorporeally of course. What
they found would astound those running the experiment, and those beyond
them. Their experiment had produced life, in multiple places. What would
happen when the life met itself?
When the first interlife war was declared, the experiment was deemed a
worthy failure, and the end of the first war was the end of the universe
it existed in.
Maybe next time this happens, it’d turn out differently?45555555555