tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24225207060332625062024-03-19T15:07:59.918-07:00THOUGHTS, RAMBLES, WRITING<small><small><small>a blog started for my writing in a digital age class.<br><b>
#dig311</b><br><b>twitter & instagram</b>:<br><i>jessasargent</i> </small></small></small>jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389413665754778717noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2422520706033262506.post-27280533205031343392014-04-16T18:58:00.002-07:002014-04-16T19:01:27.435-07:00virtual traveler<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>“</b></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-large;">The virtual traveler sees and interacts with bodies, not minds, and she must be inclined to deny the traditional hierarchy in which we are minds and merely have bodies.</span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>”<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"> </span></b></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">-</span><i style="font-size: x-large;">Remediation </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">by Bolter & Grusin</span></span></div>
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This quote really has me quite confused.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4c3ypXafeK_DsYOEv-bPNcnh3uBS4w7SOVB_GRkXDaC8UBVlCZG-pS7Vbnhu0aQyQZgf486Fl2FiyzoFpT_n3d6ONIeA-4pz3QBX0wNaI2Nwr1yfFbioNan6EqoGbZq44TuWG1wvvEBnu/s1600/oi.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4c3ypXafeK_DsYOEv-bPNcnh3uBS4w7SOVB_GRkXDaC8UBVlCZG-pS7Vbnhu0aQyQZgf486Fl2FiyzoFpT_n3d6ONIeA-4pz3QBX0wNaI2Nwr1yfFbioNan6EqoGbZq44TuWG1wvvEBnu/s1600/oi.gif" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">thanks, <a href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/kellyoakes/captivating-optical-illusion-gifs-that-will-make-your-brain" target="_blank">Buzzfeed</a></td></tr>
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I would argue that a virtual traveler (which I'm taking to mean, someone communicating online) interacts with <b>minds</b><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i>not <i>bodies</i>. I think this because you do not interact with someone physically online, you interact with what their beliefs and thoughts are. They can tell you that they have brown hair, or green eyes, but that doesn't really change the interaction you are having.<br />
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However, sometimes the sheer amount of people talking (aka social media-ing) online could be considered bodies. Their personalized thoughts/opinions don't really matter; what matters is the strength that they have in numbers.</div>
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So, depending on how personal this interaction is, and with how many people online she/he is communicating with, I would say that a virtual travel can communicate with minds <i><span style="color: #e06666;">as well as</span></i> bodies.<br />
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jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389413665754778717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2422520706033262506.post-25714157751063469242014-04-13T19:42:00.005-07:002014-04-13T19:42:50.828-07:00art is perception (perception is art?)<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDPK2kif4VeZhISYu8QCwt6qjw-yH7Ad7E4edvV5UJ4A_cRUuXLKpUHkmwgEh8c5Slmy6_ZkwiXdrK0ubz1xoPT3D88cQyNbtDM9b2sNu8ptwIlWg9eyiLXRrq34SB1tFCi5aJ01B0VtkX/s1600/warhol.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDPK2kif4VeZhISYu8QCwt6qjw-yH7Ad7E4edvV5UJ4A_cRUuXLKpUHkmwgEh8c5Slmy6_ZkwiXdrK0ubz1xoPT3D88cQyNbtDM9b2sNu8ptwIlWg9eyiLXRrq34SB1tFCi5aJ01B0VtkX/s1600/warhol.jpg" height="440" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>After the Party </i>by Andy Warhol<br /><i>via <a href="http://www.artnet.com/artwork/426316573/424667384/andy-warhol-after-the-party.html" target="_blank">Artnet Galleries</a></i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIJlEr-yDjj1n1JfAcCbO5FnoDK08r5yR8xflOFhIxzrmBc9a4uNDzgl2xHLo4faMwSyzh-J_rwFGYMxRfYhYWZeWdvxJ9q-f_zG2LbTHvMhAvimsrqJ_lepSAOsatDEbjUMtgzHnUOfIx/s1600/picasso.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIJlEr-yDjj1n1JfAcCbO5FnoDK08r5yR8xflOFhIxzrmBc9a4uNDzgl2xHLo4faMwSyzh-J_rwFGYMxRfYhYWZeWdvxJ9q-f_zG2LbTHvMhAvimsrqJ_lepSAOsatDEbjUMtgzHnUOfIx/s1600/picasso.jpg" height="640" width="502" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Femme assis </i>by Pablo Picasso<br /><i>via <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Pablo_Picasso,_1909,_Femme_assise_%28Sitzende_Frau%29,_oil_on_canvas,_100_x_80_cm,_Staatliche_Museen_zu_Berlin,_Neue_Nationalgalerie.jpg" target="_blank">Wikipedia</a></i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6V7SlDG-Xn_62NvZnY2onicXx3uTmSGLEV2nMz2gabeajVNXtcIv6VH_KU0r43pC5lhfI4wo4QvlGLZbdOLRNqTp4XIPrhcbWvN6hUw8JVmqBnSqoPK88Fg8WjmOXatbh-HHuUx08PvnL/s1600/The_Scream.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6V7SlDG-Xn_62NvZnY2onicXx3uTmSGLEV2nMz2gabeajVNXtcIv6VH_KU0r43pC5lhfI4wo4QvlGLZbdOLRNqTp4XIPrhcbWvN6hUw8JVmqBnSqoPK88Fg8WjmOXatbh-HHuUx08PvnL/s1600/The_Scream.jpg" height="640" width="506" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The Scream </i>by Edvard Munch<br /><i>via <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:The_Scream.jpg" target="_blank">Wikipedia</a></i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1nwq8YJfY9aovXg-R7gFxJu8dRMd0GHEdGemskkPfLeTtCEctUbexk_4vjF-fENtQ1pv8kcPwRFZO36lko7-PHeeQG2fDxKmUw5gaG2B35QAewVptG8mqJAoaanZCLdapgWrkrNR6J7UF/s1600/starrynight.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1nwq8YJfY9aovXg-R7gFxJu8dRMd0GHEdGemskkPfLeTtCEctUbexk_4vjF-fENtQ1pv8kcPwRFZO36lko7-PHeeQG2fDxKmUw5gaG2B35QAewVptG8mqJAoaanZCLdapgWrkrNR6J7UF/s1600/starrynight.jpg" height="506" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The Starry Night</i> by Vincent Van Gogh<br /><i>via </i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Starry_Night" style="font-style: italic;" target="_blank">Wikipedia</a><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">These are some of my favorite art pieces.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">While each piece is different, they are all, undoubtedly, considered <b>a r t</b>. At least, it has been commonly agreed upon that they are pieces of art work. Although, I am certain that some people would not like to consider these pieces of art. Maybe not because they don't particularly like them, but just because they do not fit into their personal definition of art.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><i>And that's okay. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Art should be <b>questioned</b>. If everyone found beauty or admiration in the same things, what a boring world we would live in. Art is <span style="color: #e06666;">made to be interpreted</span>. Or loved. Even hated. It is made to evoke emotions and to cause a change in our perceptions.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">If art is so malleable based upon who is observing it, than </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: small;">absolutely</span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"> something that someone created can be considered art by another. Even if the creator does not consider her/himself an artist.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">In not being able to define art, I would say that creates a definition in itself.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: small;"><b>W</b>ouldn't you agree?</span></div>
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jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389413665754778717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2422520706033262506.post-37317352282876426412014-04-09T17:00:00.000-07:002014-04-09T17:00:02.735-07:00dizzy?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_BCb5WA8mwlW334BKTuq1PEGQYzAaOxmIbgDaBubTfdetzo2l4ViDq7PKR8Io5V-e2LP1CoE9TqljUNac09waPE9VPjcX93zEiRjHI06SEyM_EQEBPkHcVD03mxr93s_eCswNEU4C9J8x/s1600/download.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_BCb5WA8mwlW334BKTuq1PEGQYzAaOxmIbgDaBubTfdetzo2l4ViDq7PKR8Io5V-e2LP1CoE9TqljUNac09waPE9VPjcX93zEiRjHI06SEyM_EQEBPkHcVD03mxr93s_eCswNEU4C9J8x/s1600/download.jpeg" height="320" width="210" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">I</span> was reading <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Edition-Martin-George-published-Hardcover/dp/B00ES266U4/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1397086880&sr=8-4&keywords=a+clash+of+kings" target="_blank">A Clash of Kings</a></i> the other night,<br />
and didn't recognize a word, so I unlocked my iPhone and opened Safari to look up the word, I can't remember what it was, before realizing that I hadn't checked the fashion blogs I follow yet that day, which led me to click a hyperlink. And then, I was looking at the new clothes H&M had put out...<br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-large;">~THIRTY MINUTES LATER~</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm somehow on Youtube watching interviews of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=emma+watson+interview" target="_blank">Emma Watson</a>? Not that she isn't flawless and it isn't time well spent, but jesus christ. I only went online to look up a <b>d e f i n i t i o n</b>. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">(Sometimes, I am amazed that I accomplish </span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><i>a n y t h i n g</i></span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">While I love how vast the Internet is, and am astounded by the sheer amount of information available at our fingertips, sometimes it is overwhelming. Especially when you realized how much time you waste just clicking around without ever accomplishing what you originally went online for.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Weinberger states that the Internet can allow our inquiries to be "free-flowing and uninterrupted," but I think it depends on the situation. If I'm writing a paper, I can stay focused on finishing the task without allowing the Internet to take me on too many random tirades. When I am simply wandering around online, I am always surprised at how much I can learn. The information that is in place through hyperlinks does allow for a continuous wave of knowledge to pass through your computer screen. And this is a valuable part of the Internet that has changed the way we think.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389413665754778717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2422520706033262506.post-89015726057028782662014-04-06T20:52:00.000-07:002014-04-06T20:52:01.535-07:00“intimate connection tool” vs “broadcast medium”In <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Too-Big-Know-Rethinking-Everywhere/dp/0465085962/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1396841724&sr=8-1&keywords=too+big+to+know" target="_blank">Too Big To Know</a></i>, written by David Weinberger he states:<br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">“ </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="color: #660000;">Twitter works perfectly if you and your five </span><span style="color: #990000;">friends are following one another's tweets. It also works if you're Ashton Kutcher and you</span> <span style="color: #cc0000;">have millions of people following your every bon mot. It works if you have</span> <span style="color: #cc0000;">100 followers, 10,000 followers, or 6 followers. Twitter works differently at every scale: If you have 6 followers, Twit</span><span style="color: #e06666;">ter is an intimate communication tool, but if you have 1,000,000, it's a broadcast medium.</span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I find it very interesting that Weinberger thinks you need 1,000,000 followers to broadcast a message. While it would make broadcasting a message significantly easier, all you need to do is get the attention of someone with a larger amount of followers than you have. That is the greatness of the Internet. If you can gather enough people, you can spread a message. You don</span>’<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">t even have to reach Ashton Kutcher for a message to be broadcasted. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">One of <a href="http://www.twitter.com/" target="_blank">Twitter</a>'s best features is the trending topics bar off to the side on the home screen. Currently the trending topics are:</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHV8NxZBUDrvsqj5lkV3PgK1KcGeyKeivVchTUBpjS_oH5pzVqLzvtOPfhDkJdOfVGJvCUY_WRitBGs2jzqAX7ysDBdZJeM9wwebY8-pcq8dh8bH7xDNtVTVd_JVVzGTL7n5BKFAH3ulCD/s1600/Screen+shot+2014-04-06+at+11.44.16+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHV8NxZBUDrvsqj5lkV3PgK1KcGeyKeivVchTUBpjS_oH5pzVqLzvtOPfhDkJdOfVGJvCUY_WRitBGs2jzqAX7ysDBdZJeM9wwebY8-pcq8dh8bH7xDNtVTVd_JVVzGTL7n5BKFAH3ulCD/s1600/Screen+shot+2014-04-06+at+11.44.16+PM.png" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">This feature is especially awesome because it isn't about <b>who </b>is tweeting these subjects, just that a multitude of people <i>are.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I think Weinberger discounts the power that people can have in numbers. While he admits that obviously someone who has 1,000,000 followers can broadcast a message easier than someone with 6 followers, as long as the message is being spread by a large number of people, it <b>can</b> reach an audience. The message may not be </span>“<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">broadcast medium</span>” material immediately, but it can certainly get there.</div>
jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389413665754778717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2422520706033262506.post-30089738601999496792014-04-02T18:44:00.000-07:002014-04-02T18:46:57.814-07:00“The Ones Who Walked Away From Omelas”<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">“The Ones Who Walked Away From Omelas”</span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><i>By Ursula Le Guin</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>W</b></span>ith a clamor of bells that set the swallows soaring, the Festival of Summer came to the city Omelas, bright-towered by the sea. The rigging of the boats in harbor sparkled with flags. In the streets between houses with red roofs and painted walls, between old moss-grown gardens and under avenues of trees, past great parks and public buildings, processions moved. Some were decorous: old people in long stiff robes of mauve and grey, grave master workmen, quiet, merry women carrying their babies and chatting as they walked. In other streets the music beat faster, a shimmering of gong and tambourine, and the people went dancing, the procession was a dance. Children dodged in and out, their high calls rising like the swallows' crossing flights over the music and the singing. All the processions wound towards the north side of the city, where on the great water-meadow called the Green Fields boys and girls, naked in the bright air, with mud-stained feet and ankles and long, lithe arms, exercised their restive horses before the race. The horses wore no gear at all but a halter without bit. Their manes were braided with streamers of silver, gold, and green. They flared their nostrils and pranced and boasted to one another; they were vastly excited, the horse being the only animal who has adopted our ceremonies as his own. Far off to the north and west the mountains stood up half encircling Omelas on her bay. The air of morning was so clear that the snow still crowning the Eighteen Peaks burned with white-gold fire across the miles of sunlit air, under the dark blue of the sky. There was just enough wind to<br />
make the banners that marked the racecourse snap and flutter now and then. In the silence of the broad green meadows one could hear the music winding through the city streets, farther and nearer and ever approaching, a cheerful faint sweetness of the air that from time to time trembled and gathered together and broke out into the great joyous clanging of the bells.<br />
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Joyous! How is one to tell about joy? How describe the citizens of Omelas?<br />
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They were not simple folk, you see, though they were happy. But we do not say the words of cheer much any more. All smiles have become archaic. Given a description such as this one tends to make certain assumptions. Given a description such as this one tends to look next for the King, mounted on a splendid stallion and surrounded byhis noble knights, or perhaps in a golden litter borne by great muscled slaves. But there was no king. They did not use swords, or keep slaves. They were not barbarians. I do not know the rules and laws of their society, but I suspect that they were singularly few. As they did without monarchy and slavery, so they also got on without the stock exchange, the advertisement, the secret police, and the bomb. Yet I repeat that these were not simple folk, not dulcet shepherds, noble savages, bland utopians. They were not less complex than us. The trouble is that we have a bad habit, encouraged by pedants and sophisticates, of considering happiness as something rather stupid. <span style="color: #660000;">Only pain is intellectual, only evil interesting</span>. This is the treason of the artist: a refusal to<br />
admit the banality of evil and the terrible boredom of pain. If you can't lick 'em, join 'em. If it hurts, repeat it. But to praise despair is to condemn delight, to embrace violence is to lose hold of everything else. We have almost lost hold; we can no longer describe a happy man, nor make any celebration of joy. How can I tell you about the people of Omelas? They were not naive and happy children--though their children were, in fact, happy. They were mature, intelligent, passionate adults whose lives were not wretched. O miracle! but I wish I could describe it better. I wish I could convince you. Omelas sounds in my words like a city in a fairy tale, long ago and far away, once upon a time. Perhaps it would be best if you imagined it as your own fancy bids, assuming it will rise to the occasion, for certainly I cannot suit you all. For instance, how about technology? I think that there would be no cars or helicopters in and above the streets; this follows from the fact that the people of Omelas are happy people. Happiness is based on a just discrimination of what is necessary, what is neither necessary nor destructive, and what is destructive. In the middle category, however--that of the unnecessary but undestructive, that of comfort, luxury, exuberance, etc.--they could perfectly well have central heating, subway trains, washing machines, and all kinds of marvelous devices not yet invented here, floating light-sources, fuelless power, a cure for the common cold. Or they could have none of that; it doesn't matter. As you like it. I incline to think that people from towns up and down the coast have been coming in to Omelas during the last days before the Festival on very fast little trains and double-decked trams, and that the train station of Omelas is actually the handsomest building in town, though plainer<br />
than the magnificent Farmers' Market. But even granted trains, I fear that Omelas so far strikes some of you as goody-goody. Smiles, bells, parades, horses, bleh. If so, please add an orgy. If an orgy would help, don't hesitate. Let us not, however, have temples from which issue beautiful nude priests and priestesses already half in ecstasy and ready to copulate with any man or woman, lover or stranger, who desires union with the deep godhead of the blood, although that was my first idea. But really it would be better not to have any temples in Omelas--at least, not manned temples. Religion yes, clergy no. Surely the beautiful nudes can just wander about, offering themselves like divine soufflés to the hunger of the needy and the rapture of the flesh. Let them join the processions. Let tambourines be struck above the copulations, and the glory of desire be proclaimed upon the gongs, and (a not unimportant point) let the offspring of these delightful rituals be beloved and looked after by all. One thing I know there is none of in Omelas is guilt. But what else should there be? I thought at first there were not drugs, but that is puritanical. For those who like it, the faint insistent sweetness of drooz may perfume the ways of the city, drooz which first brings a great lightness and brilliance to the mind and limbs, and then after some hours a dreamy languor, and wonderful visions at last of the very arcana and inmost secrets of the Universe, as well as exciting the pleasure of sex beyond belief; and it is not habit-forming. For more modest tastes I think there ought to be beer. What else, what else belongs in the joyous city? The sense of victory, surely, the celebration of courage. But as we did without clergy, let us do without<br />
soldiers. The joy built upon successful slaughter is not the right kind of joy; it will not do; it is fearful and it is trivial. A boundless and generous contentment, a magnanimous triumph felt not against some outer enemy but in communion with the finest and fairest in the souls of all men everywhere and the splendor of the world's summer: this is what swells the hearts of the people of Omelas, and the victory they celebrate is that of life. I really don't think many of them need to take drooz.<br />
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Most of the procession have reached the Green Fields by now. A marvelous smell of cooking goes forth from the red and blue tents of the provisioners. The faces of small children are amiably sticky; in the benign grey beard of a man a couple of crumbs of rich pastry are entangled. The youths and girls have mounted their horses and are beginning to group around the starting line of the course. An old women, small, fat, and laughing, is passing out flowers from a basket, and tall young men where her flowers in their shining hair. A child of nine or ten sits at the edge of the crowd, alone, playing on a<br />
wooden flute. People pause to listen, and they smile, but they do not speak to him, for he never ceases playing and never sees them, his dark eyes wholly rapt in the sweet, thin magic of the tune.<br />
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He finishes, and slowly lowers his hands holding the wooden flute. As if that little private silence were the signal, all at once a trumpet sounds from the pavilion near the starting line: imperious, melancholy, piercing. The horses rear on their slender legs, and some of them neigh in answer. Sober-faced, the young riders stroke the horses' necks and soothe them, whispering, "Quiet, quiet, there my beauty, my<br />
hope...." They begin to form in rank along the starting line. The crowds along the racecourse are like a field of grass and flowers in the wind. The Festival of Summer has begun.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Do you believe? Do you accept the festival, the city, the joy? No? Then let me describe </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">one more thing. </span></span><br />
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In a basement under one of the beautiful public buildings of Omelas, or perhaps in the cellar of one of its spacious private homes, there is a room. It has one locked door, and no window. A little light seeps in dustily between cracks in the boards, secondhand from a cobwebbed window somewhere across the cellar. In one corner of the little room a couple of mops, with stiff, clotted, foul-smelling heads stand near a rusty bucket. The floor is dirt, a little damp to the touch, as cellar dirt usually is. The room is about three paces long and two wide: a mere broom closet or disused tool room. In the room a child is sitting. It could be a boy or a girl. It looks about six, but actually is nearly ten. It is feeble-minded. Perhaps it was born defective, or perhaps it has become imbecile through fear, malnutrition, and neglect. It picks its nose and occasionally fumbles vaguely with its toes or genitals, as it sits hunched in the corner farthest from the bucket and the two mops. It is afraid of the mops. It finds them horrible. It shuts its eyes, but it knows the mops are still standing there; and the door is locked; and nobody will come. The door is always locked; and nobody ever comes, except that sometimes--the child has no understanding of time or interval--sometimes the door rattles terribly and opens, and a person, or several people, are there. One of them may come in and kick the child to make it stand up. The others never come close, but peer in at it with frightened, disgusted eyes. The food bowl and the water jug are hastily filled, the door is locked, the eyes disappear. The people at the door never say anything, but the child, who has not always lived in the tool room, and can remember sunlight and its mother's voice, sometimes speaks. "I will be good," it says. "Please let me out. I will be good!" They never answer. The child used to scream for help at night, and cry a good deal, but now it only makes a kind of whining, "eh-haa, eh-haa," and it speaks less and less often. It is so thin there are no calves to its legs; its belly protrudes; it lives on a half-bowl of corn meal and grease a day. It is naked. Its buttocks and thighs are a mass of festered sores, as it sits in its own excrement continually.<br />
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They all know it is there, all the people of Omelas.<br />
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Some of them have come to see it, others are content merely to know it is there. They all know that it has to be there. Some of them understand why, and some do not, but they all understand that their happiness, the beauty of their city, the tenderness of their friendships, the health of their children, the wisdom of their scholars, the skill of their makers, even the abundance of their harvest and the kindly weathers of their skies, depend wholly on this child's abominable misery.<br />
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This is usually explained to children when they are between eight and twelve, whenever they seem capable of understanding; and most of those who come to see the child are young people, though often enough an adult comes, or comes back, to see the child. No matter how well the matter has been explained to them, these young spectators are always shocked and sickened at the sight. They feel disgust, which they had thought themselves superior to. They feel anger, outrage, impotence, despite all the explanations. They would like to do something for the child. But there is nothing they can do. If the child were brought up into the sunlight out of that vile place, if it were leaned and fed and comforted, that would be a good thing indeed; but if it were done, in that day and hour all the prosperity and beauty and delight of Omelas would wither and be destroyed. Those are the terms. To exchange all the goodness and grace of every life in Omelas for that single, small improvement: to throw away the happiness of thousands for the chance of the happiness of one: that would be to let guilt within the<br />
walls indeed.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The terms are strict and absolute</span>;<br />
<b>there may not even be a kind word spoken to the child.</b><br />
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Often the young people go home in tears, or in a tearless rage, when they have seen the child and faced this terrible paradox. They may brood over it for weeks or years. But as time goes on they begin to realize that even if the child could be released, it would not get much good of its freedom: a little vague pleasure of warmth and food, no doubt, but little more. It is too degraded and imbecile to know any real joy. It has been afraid too long ever to be free of fear. Its habits are too uncouth for it to respond to humane treatment. Indeed, after so long it would probably be wretched without walls about it to protect it, and darkness for its eyes, and its own excrement to sit in. Their tears at the bitter injustice dry when they begin to perceive the terrible justice of reality, and to accept it. Yet it is their tears and anger, the trying of their generosity and the acceptance of their helplessness, which are perhaps the true source of the splendor of their lives. Theirs is no vapid, irresponsible happiness. They know that they, like the child, are not free. They know compassion. It is the existence of the child, and their knowledge of its existence, that makes possible the nobility of their architecture, the poignancy of their music, the profundity of their science. It is because of the child that they are so gentle with children. They know that if the wretched one were not there sniveling in the dark, the other one, the flute-player, could make no joyful music as the young riders line up in their beauty for the race in the sunlight of the first morning of summer. Now do you believe in them? Are they not more credible? But there is one more thing to tell, and this is quite incredible. t times one of the adolescent girls or boys who go to see the child does not go home to weep or rage, does not, in fact, go home at all. Sometimes also a man or woman much older falls silent for a day or two, and then leaves home. These people go out into the street, and walk down the street alone. They keep walking, and walk straight out of the city of Omelas, through the beautiful gates. They keep walking across the farmlands of Omelas. Each one goes alone, youth or girl, man or woman. Night falls; the traveler must pass down village streets, between the houses with yellow-lit windows, and on out into the darkness of the fields. Each alone, they go west or north, towards the mountains. <i>They go on</i>. They leave Omelas, they walk ahead into the darkness, and<br />
they do not come back. The place they go towards is a place even less imaginable to<br />
most of us than the city of happiness. I cannot describe it at all. It is possible that it does<br />
not exist. <span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">But they seem to know where they are going, the ones who walk away from </span><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Omelas. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://iweb.tntech.edu/jcbaker/The%20Ones%20Who%20Walked%20Away%20from%20Omelas.pdf" target="_blank">[source]</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I had to read this short story for a class at Suffolk University and while most things read for classes are forgotten after a period of time, this one has stuck with me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The writing style is almost objective. The narrator wants you to draw your own conclusions.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And while the conclusions drawn by the reader can be horrific realizations, or perhaps feelings of grudging acceptance, it undoubtedly causes you to question your own humanity and what you would do as a resident of Omelas.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Would you walk away?</i></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">(does it cause you to think differently about the reality of the world?)</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Thanks for reading (if you got this far,) and I apologize for such a text heavy post.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I just had to though.</span></div>
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jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389413665754778717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2422520706033262506.post-90724233805787332022014-03-30T19:11:00.000-07:002014-03-30T19:11:37.734-07:00spring has sprungIf we ignore the snow we were forced to deal with today, according to <a href="http://www.weather.com/weather/tenday/USNY1172" target="_blank">Weather.com</a> ...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN-UrRBtyMM_JLT3t0lELSdFB9HoMTJwCctYn4qRJJob2d7-ultafc4CDAxDYIbADN3OZ0wT1O2oh4UObdr4TRNCIi68cWj9-i3EX4-xAZ-f1A9RSRmAqMIWnAx963Ukxb_uzNHo1bw7II/s1600/f88681c304cfd2fa-IMG_3666.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN-UrRBtyMM_JLT3t0lELSdFB9HoMTJwCctYn4qRJJob2d7-ultafc4CDAxDYIbADN3OZ0wT1O2oh4UObdr4TRNCIi68cWj9-i3EX4-xAZ-f1A9RSRmAqMIWnAx963Ukxb_uzNHo1bw7II/s1600/f88681c304cfd2fa-IMG_3666.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">by <a href="http://www.nicolefranzen.com/stills-" target="_blank">nicole franzen</a></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I think this means spring is here.</span><span style="color: black; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Either way, </span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">temperatures above freezing? </span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I'll take it; </span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">even <b>with</b> the rain.<br /></span></td></tr>
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jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389413665754778717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2422520706033262506.post-90677034466768911892014-03-30T13:55:00.001-07:002014-03-30T13:55:35.208-07:00#bansorry
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>“</b> </span><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 26px;">Every day, for myriad reasons, women are apologizing to me: for opening a door I am about to enter; for reaching over me at the salad bar; for standing in front of the open refrigerator and gazing at the variety of chilled milks. It's the same thing every time: A well-spoken, confident women will notice that we happen to be sharing the same space, cast her eyes downward, and mutter a quick and meaningless, </span>“<span style="line-height: 26px;">sorry.</span>”<span style="line-height: 26px;"> Most of the time, I say it back. It's nothing more than a ritual, a salutation, a paper-thin pleasantry. But she's not sorry. And I'm not sorry. So why are we saying that we are? </span></span></i><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">”</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">-Justine Harman via</span> <i><b><a href="http://www.elle.com/news/culture/instead-of-banning-bossy-lets-ban-sorry" target="_blank">ELLE</a></b></i></div>
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It was odd to see a link to this article pop up on my Twitter feed. A few months ago I suddenly noticed how often I was apologizing for stupid things that I was not even remotely sorry for.. </div>
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When I accidentally bump into someone. Or if I am in someone's way, even though I just need to grab some peanut butter off the shelf, and then I'll be on my way in the grocery store. I say it when I'm working and go to place a coffee on the table and the customer moves her/his arm for no reason. I apologize in the morning when my little sister is hogging the bathroom mirror above the sink and I need to brush my teeth. It's ridiculous.</div>
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<span style="color: #990000;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>“S</i><span style="font-style: italic; line-height: 26px;">orry</span><i>” </i>seems to suddenly mean the same thing as </span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>“</i><span style="font-style: italic; line-height: 26px;">Excuse me.</span><i>”</i> </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And it bothers me that the two phrases had become interchangeable. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I am not trying to say that apologies are wrong or bad in any way. I am all for apologies and being courteous and polite, but most of the time I don't even feel apologetic in these instances. By saying </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“</span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 26px;">sorry</span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">”</span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> rather than </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“</span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">excuse me,</span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">”</span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> it takes away from the real meaning of the word, and real apologies.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">A co-worker (hi, Sara) and I have begun to correct each other when we say </span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">“<span style="line-height: 26px;">sorry</span>”</span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> rather than </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“</span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">excuse me.</span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">” I am determined to be rid of this habit, because what am I apologizing for, <i>r e a l l y</i>? Taking up space? <strike>Sorry.</strike> Not sorry.</span></div>
jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389413665754778717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2422520706033262506.post-21445724735659087252014-03-16T18:22:00.000-07:002014-03-16T18:22:03.483-07:00we ate the birds<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Eating the Birds</span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">by Margaret Atwood</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">We ate the birds. We ate them. We wanted their songs to flow up through our throats and burst out of our mouths, and so we ate them. We wanted their feathers to bud from our flesh. We wanted their wings, we wanted to fly as they did, soar freely among the treetops and the clouds, and so we ate them. We speared them, we clubbed them, we tangled their feet in glue, we netted them, we spitted them, we threw them onto hot coals, and <span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>all</b> for love</span>, because we loved them. We wanted to be one with them. We wanted to hatch out of clean, smooth, beautiful eggs, as they did, back when we were young and agile and innocent of cause and effect, we did not want the mess of being born, and so we crammed the birds into our gullets, feathers and all, but it was no use, we couldn't sing, not effortlessly as they do, we can't fly, not without smoke and metal, and as for the eggs we don't stand a chance. We're mired in gravity, we're earthbound. We're ankle-deep in blood, and all because we ate the birds, we ate them long ago, when we still had </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><b>the power to say no</b></span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The first time I read this was when I was sitting in an airport waiting for my plane to begin boarding. It was in some magazine left behind, perhaps accidentally, by someone. Maybe it was fate, if that is a thing. I'm not sure. Anyway, this writing (I'm not sure what to call it... drabble? Short story?) struck me. I ripped it out of the magazine to take with me onto the plane. It consumed my brain for days. I wanted to know what she was speaking about. It's beautiful and tragic and I don't think it is something that can be undone until it is too late.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Hope you enjoyed it.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAT4h-q4yUR4WNMxq3AzDoZwBgPEkoz98i3cpf-6CCtGp2H8DUAx6xLzvi0nU2jATChWrV3d2xtt_ENoCZZ95AuihoSji57IQu_F1G_gVVBWPpPfj3hu6nJMVbz_qjYf7W18AHrvmd9zG2/s1600/bird.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAT4h-q4yUR4WNMxq3AzDoZwBgPEkoz98i3cpf-6CCtGp2H8DUAx6xLzvi0nU2jATChWrV3d2xtt_ENoCZZ95AuihoSji57IQu_F1G_gVVBWPpPfj3hu6nJMVbz_qjYf7W18AHrvmd9zG2/s1600/bird.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">by <a href="http://www.custommade.com/by/dswatercolors/" target="_blank">david scheirer</a></td></tr>
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<br />jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389413665754778717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2422520706033262506.post-25856279605246731282014-03-12T17:08:00.003-07:002014-03-12T17:08:54.141-07:00x<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/IpbDHxCV29A" width="560"></iframe>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">would you kiss a stranger?</span></i>jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389413665754778717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2422520706033262506.post-14977058137797563542014-03-09T19:57:00.000-07:002014-03-11T08:58:32.250-07:00because mermaids make everything better<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZhX5oAy-8Gq5PWMByBX_pyeeykmaG-WSFbLGPuQqW_TSGu5sSsFfOqC6GaiZFDp-x_xuH9svJ76-rOohsHHrpbHxonvB6hv197impk-O_i4VlT2SWu1yEzSFIOxBPr1I3Tdn08Ts438Ek/s1600/mermaid6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZhX5oAy-8Gq5PWMByBX_pyeeykmaG-WSFbLGPuQqW_TSGu5sSsFfOqC6GaiZFDp-x_xuH9svJ76-rOohsHHrpbHxonvB6hv197impk-O_i4VlT2SWu1yEzSFIOxBPr1I3Tdn08Ts438Ek/s1600/mermaid6.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Arthur Rackham, <i>Midsummer Night's Dream</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-fcVf5GKJFMhscUvKVZ6ejUjMai-5xqgnQYeMQhHZ7JPalmAUFkZTTUryYpeESTA5BII7gWDgkLxL0LthPrvaIXtAFhCMoCL7SYf2tcVHSonDAW0lsVOoV_GicsvclTgTYv94ys9ZPwtP/s1600/mermaid7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-fcVf5GKJFMhscUvKVZ6ejUjMai-5xqgnQYeMQhHZ7JPalmAUFkZTTUryYpeESTA5BII7gWDgkLxL0LthPrvaIXtAFhCMoCL7SYf2tcVHSonDAW0lsVOoV_GicsvclTgTYv94ys9ZPwtP/s1600/mermaid7.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a class="qb-b" href="https://www.google.com/search?sa=G&q=little+mermaid+hans+christian+andersen&ei=gzAfU9DGHIXfkQfDo4HYCw&ved=0CCgQvQ4oBQ" style="background-color: white; color: #660099; cursor: pointer; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; text-align: start;">l</a>Hans Christian Andersen, <i>Little Mermaid</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUSbLBEhQQ8wjs4vzOxDg9Fw3fzbnKSa2rTAC6ExPv6XpGgdd66JhRexqPoOgbaZfvSZiVgDa7R4rGEj_VsjLuBe0HMgUUA0-agxskrwyHLxIOrL1HIJ9ejT4ocsbwGf0cJUE1H9Pei6tM/s1600/mermaid8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUSbLBEhQQ8wjs4vzOxDg9Fw3fzbnKSa2rTAC6ExPv6XpGgdd66JhRexqPoOgbaZfvSZiVgDa7R4rGEj_VsjLuBe0HMgUUA0-agxskrwyHLxIOrL1HIJ9ejT4ocsbwGf0cJUE1H9Pei6tM/s1600/mermaid8.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: x-small; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Frank Cheyne Papé</span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGYp2gMNeUbeicsSRTbEVAgnwotjSNOlOIqjogTFMpkd9N60RPZ3UrrhvBvUh9raCYh8IW_gkBohQLxtBSUTrhQA17G5RlWDVo6ohc-leE28czce-XRmaxIpSii3ed9kf53rdyoLDN8LNq/s1600/mermaid1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGYp2gMNeUbeicsSRTbEVAgnwotjSNOlOIqjogTFMpkd9N60RPZ3UrrhvBvUh9raCYh8IW_gkBohQLxtBSUTrhQA17G5RlWDVo6ohc-leE28czce-XRmaxIpSii3ed9kf53rdyoLDN8LNq/s640/mermaid1.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: x-small; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Victor Nizovtsev, <i>Mermaid</i></span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqwK7NV2DzB5uqzYrBH5MZnSwBh2ORiT57ZwkXfB7t6Ff4chpFYgreP86TJTvjnTlQ11wZxeuzarlVMPIq6jq69Gm21x2uV86Av_3CGQuvQnu9kzQxt5M0Y3zrDoDsKfI934Fu0MuxlfSe/s1600/mermaid3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqwK7NV2DzB5uqzYrBH5MZnSwBh2ORiT57ZwkXfB7t6Ff4chpFYgreP86TJTvjnTlQ11wZxeuzarlVMPIq6jq69Gm21x2uV86Av_3CGQuvQnu9kzQxt5M0Y3zrDoDsKfI934Fu0MuxlfSe/s640/mermaid3.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><em style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: small; font-style: normal; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">John William Waterhouse, </em><em style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: small; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">A Mermaid</em></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiac2B37XcGY4eNF6uN_ax-s0pNO469hNkDEagdM-in9AU8ANBYMAD0zeV_5RYWJDkN6dojFmlL0cs9Ug_ss6bLHp4FGRbQvdf89sZcQXiIv-An28pqEBLyLQJoiBHFBIUOW7ydpqO-NB6W/s1600/mermaid10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiac2B37XcGY4eNF6uN_ax-s0pNO469hNkDEagdM-in9AU8ANBYMAD0zeV_5RYWJDkN6dojFmlL0cs9Ug_ss6bLHp4FGRbQvdf89sZcQXiIv-An28pqEBLyLQJoiBHFBIUOW7ydpqO-NB6W/s1600/mermaid10.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: small; font-style: normal; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Warwick Goble</span></em></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXG2q8D1LQvGH6Os498PMZhCMWnUKdkwlewnnfQgjvyHtAdbNUAAg9EuaAao0-s2_xox0ymvDZnDbBi3CathInwt6kopaFCaALaIutrRepZsx2cQ_LDPYvqQY-EZUCDUlOgNvgNTw3wW-B/s1600/mermaid5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXG2q8D1LQvGH6Os498PMZhCMWnUKdkwlewnnfQgjvyHtAdbNUAAg9EuaAao0-s2_xox0ymvDZnDbBi3CathInwt6kopaFCaALaIutrRepZsx2cQ_LDPYvqQY-EZUCDUlOgNvgNTw3wW-B/s640/mermaid5.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: small; font-style: normal; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">William Holbrook Beard</span></em></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHH0ZPyNFH19401EZICPxsYbdJfgi8YLzkIvKLM6KZ9Xz9L7URRIqC1DmdzWGC_vW6UXxjlJc9Xr69VaX9Vk6djClKw45Zn9c9pS1ZbOeeeuaejKeq6bgbMADQOFbAgrdQ8X7qX8QaU4CJ/s1600/mermaid11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHH0ZPyNFH19401EZICPxsYbdJfgi8YLzkIvKLM6KZ9Xz9L7URRIqC1DmdzWGC_vW6UXxjlJc9Xr69VaX9Vk6djClKw45Zn9c9pS1ZbOeeeuaejKeq6bgbMADQOFbAgrdQ8X7qX8QaU4CJ/s1600/mermaid11.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: small; font-style: normal; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Victor Bauer</span></em><br />
all images <i>via </i><a href="http://www.tumblr.com/search/mermaid+art" target="_blank">Tumblr</a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">A Man Young And Old: III. The Mermaid</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">A mermaid found a swimming lad,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Picked him for her own,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Pressed her body to his body,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Laughed; and plunging down</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Forgot in cruel happiness</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">That even lovers drown.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">--William Butler Yeats</span><br />
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jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389413665754778717noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2422520706033262506.post-26652557180615123962014-03-05T19:00:00.003-08:002014-03-05T19:00:33.710-08:00Here Comes EverybodyIn <i>Here Comes Everybody,</i> the author, Clay Shirky, writes:<br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Our recent communications networks --the internet and mobile phones-- are a platform for group-forming . . . Ridiculously easy group-forming matters because the desire to be part of a group that</span><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">shares</span><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">, </span><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">cooperates</span><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">, or </span><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">acts</span><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">in concert is a basic </span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">human instinct . . .</span><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #ea9999;">H u m a n s a r e i n h e r e n t l y s o c i a l c r e a t u r e s</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">&</span> because of the availability to be constantly social, it has become a relatively easy necessity to meet. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">However, it does make me wonder if it has become <b>too</b> easy. People update their Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram profiles nearly daily, if not more than once a day. It is nothing to be aware of what is going on in someone's life without having to communicate with them directly. One simply has to observe. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">This is where you have to decide how involved in a group you desire to be. Does </span>‘<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">liking</span>’ <span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">something that someone has posted online count as being involved? Does commenting? Do <b>you</b> feel that makes you part of a group? While most people would argue that a group consists of more than two people, I believe that two people <i>can</i> be a group because you have to consider the other connections that each person has and the fact that most social interactions involve more than two people because they can be observed by other people in the world online.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Another concept of human interaction that I am confused about is whether or not communicating with groups online functions the same as communicating with groups in person. Does it fill the natural human instinct to be social? Or is it simply a step that has been added to establishing groups in today's world? Do you communicate firstly online, but then expect for the communication of the group to be moved into direct person-to-person communication?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Maybe this is just a giant paradox. Or perhaps all groups communicate online and person-to-person and each form of communication holds a specific place among group members. My head hurts. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Thoughts?</span></div>
jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389413665754778717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2422520706033262506.post-5984078249039292352014-03-02T19:35:00.000-08:002014-03-02T19:35:49.797-08:00Ethereal, talented beauty Lupita Nyong'o.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLMHZir6Cjz_P-s9BndLTQWswgmhp6Tn1UsqolJpoyPPnwYFKMNv4ucZz6FqMqY2TsOJmUBxgP7uPNDM8zW4sDRzy8lXVtYFUj6i3vm1bZqgOj6Q-bhINpy4vVl3s5hhGQRMMr_909HcrQ/s1600/LN.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLMHZir6Cjz_P-s9BndLTQWswgmhp6Tn1UsqolJpoyPPnwYFKMNv4ucZz6FqMqY2TsOJmUBxgP7uPNDM8zW4sDRzy8lXVtYFUj6i3vm1bZqgOj6Q-bhINpy4vVl3s5hhGQRMMr_909HcrQ/s320/LN.jpg" height="307" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">via <a href="http://www.redcarpet-fashionawards.com/category/blog/blog-celebrities/lupita-nyongo/" target="_blank">Red Carpet Fashion Awards</a></td></tr>
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The 86th-annual Academy Awards are on currently and I am obsessed with the entire look that Lupita Nyong'o is wearing. The ice-y tone of the light blue is perfect for her complexion. According to <i>E! News</i>, the actual name of this particular shade of blue is "duck egg shell." <br />
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Lupita wore a silk georgette custom-made Prada gown with deep Vs in the front and back as well as low-cut sides. She complemented the dress with a red lip and Fred Leighton jewels, including ear cuffs.<br />
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Lupita Nyong'o is nominated in the category of Actress in a Supporting Role in the film <i>12 Years a Slave</i>. According to Wikipedia, <i>12 Years a Slave</i> is a "2013 British-American historical epic drama film" and an adaptation of the 1853 memoir of Solomon Northrup. Northrup was a free man who was kidnapped in Washington D.C. and sold into slavery. He worked on plantations in Louisiana for twelve years before he regained his freedom. Lupita Nyong'o plays Patsey, a young female slave at Edwin Epps' plantation, where Northrup is sold to. Each slave on Epps' plantation must pick at least 200 lbs of cotton a day; Patsey picks 500 lbs a day, and Epps praises her excessively, as well as rapes her repeatedly.<br />
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Lupita Nyong'o said: <span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.200000762939453px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">[on retaining overnight the elaborate scarring makeup on her back, incurred in the brutal sexual scenes with the sadistic plantation owner]<span style="color: #e06666;"> </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>“</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #e06666; line-height: 18.200000762939453px;"><i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">They were haunting. I could only sleep on my belly. I was just so aware of them the whole night. I remember fretting and weeping, and then it occurred to me that my discomfort was temporary, and the woman who I was playing, her discomfort was permanent. It just really centered me, and really quieted my soul for the next day's work.</span></i></span><b>”</b></span></div>
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Lupita Nyong'o was born in Mexico, though her parents are both Kenyan. She was raised in Kenya and educated in the USA. She graduated from Yale University's School of Drama's Acting program in 2012 with an MFA.<br />
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jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389413665754778717noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2422520706033262506.post-27010665946231690132014-02-26T18:29:00.001-08:002014-02-26T19:05:01.642-08:00The xx - Coexist<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">THE XX - COEXIST</span></div>
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I know this album is <i>‘old’</i> . . . aka 2012, but it recently resurfaced on my itunes shuffle (<b>sometimes itunes can do <span style="color: #e06666;">so</span> much right</b>) and I am completely enraptured by it again.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://thexx.info/images/packshot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://thexx.info/images/packshot.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a><a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/71M46zOCcXL._SL1500_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><img border="0" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/71M46zOCcXL._SL1500_.jpg" height="177" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">images <i>via</i> <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=the+xx+coexist&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ei=3qEOU7GlGeeuyQH62IDIBA&sqi=2&ved=0CAcQ_AUoAQ&biw=1267&bih=578#q=the+xx+coexist+album+art&tbm=isch" target="_blank">Google Images</a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">[TIDES]</span><br />
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<title>The xx - Coexist</title>
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<h1>The xx - Coexist</h1>
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<th>1.</th>
<td>Angels</td>
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<th>2.</th>
<td>Chained</td>
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<th>3.</th>
<td>Fiction</td>
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<th>4.</th>
<td>Try</td>
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<th>5.</th>
<td>Reunion</td>
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<th>6.</th>
<td>Sunset</td>
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<th>7.</th>
<td>Missing</td>
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<th>8.</th>
<td>Tides</td>
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<th>9.</th>
<td>Unfold</td>
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<th>10.</th>
<td>Swept Away</td>
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<th>11.</th>
<td>Our Song</td>
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jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389413665754778717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2422520706033262506.post-14446827933907432592014-02-23T20:36:00.000-08:002014-02-23T20:36:04.075-08:00being a "good parent" means being technologically literate.. right<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">summer 1997 issue of <i>Computing for Kids</i> read:</span><br />
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: x-large;">“</span></span><span style="font-size: large;">If you want to ensure the success of your child you need to educate them. Teach them how to read, how to write, how to add and subtract. And how to use a personal computer. That's right: along with the traditional reading, writing, and 'rithmetic skills [intentional error], to succeed in tomorrow's world, your child will need to know how to use a PC.</span><span style="font-size: x-large; text-align: right;">”</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: right;">-- <i>Technology and Literacy in the Twenty-First Century </i></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: right;"><i>The Importance of Paying Attention </i></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: right;">by Cynthia L. Selfe</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: right;">But what happens if <span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">the child knows how to use the technology better than you</span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">?</span></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/shopping?q=tbn:ANd9GcTtqv4g6HuqJtl-TIVl-AA58J0MXzXvOT0M6YQyq7mFCq9WZwGzsfgI8ObzbmpT1bZg9ncFvJ4Y&usqp=CAY" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/shopping?q=tbn:ANd9GcTtqv4g6HuqJtl-TIVl-AA58J0MXzXvOT0M6YQyq7mFCq9WZwGzsfgI8ObzbmpT1bZg9ncFvJ4Y&usqp=CAY" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>via</i> <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=baby+ipad+case&tbm=shop&source=lnms&sa=X&ei=_scKU63rOuKbygGWu4CgAw&ved=0CAcQ_AUoAQ&biw=1267&bih=622&dpr=1#spd=3043235897263361238" target="_blank"><span style="color: #990000;">Google Image</span></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/shopping?q=tbn:ANd9GcSfhWTxoRqf_4kDcrbc5nIGuZdRIP9JD3w-QL5023ns2sfTfgorIcWl-Du0uga24J8wz0E1JQLk&usqp=CAY" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/shopping?q=tbn:ANd9GcSfhWTxoRqf_4kDcrbc5nIGuZdRIP9JD3w-QL5023ns2sfTfgorIcWl-Du0uga24J8wz0E1JQLk&usqp=CAY" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>via</i> <a href="https://www.google.com/#q=baby+ipad+chair&tbm=shop&spd=14493122123303622133" target="_blank"><span style="color: #990000;">Google Image</span></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://nyobetabeat.files.wordpress.com/2013/12/apptivity-seat-for-kids-with-ipad-dock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://nyobetabeat.files.wordpress.com/2013/12/apptivity-seat-for-kids-with-ipad-dock.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>via</i> <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=baby+ipad+chair&tbm=isch&source=lnms&sa=X&ei=_8YKU6XyGIKGyQHDmYDADg&ved=0CAYQ_AUoAQ&biw=1267&bih=622#facrc=_&imgdii=_&imgrc=RgBeYjxVNEQRcM%253A%3B77P_u6YYLSmaOM%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fnyobetabeat.files.wordpress.com%252F2013%252F12%252Fapptivity-seat-for-kids-with-ipad-dock.jpg%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fbetabeat.com%252F2013%252F12%252Fshut-your-baby-up-for-hours-with-built-in-ipad-play-chair%252F%3B500%3B500" target="_blank"><span style="color: #990000;">Google Image</span></a></td></tr>
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Technology is now introduced to children at such a young age and because of this children have adapted to it. There is hardly a need to actively teach a child how to do something on an electronic device. Hell, normally they change something and you cannot figure out how to change it back without asking them. </div>
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My point is that being technologically literate does <b>not</b> make you a good parent necessarily. Obviously much more goes into parenting a child correctly. And children are much smarter than a lot of adults give them credit for. They will adapt and become literate with technology on their own because our culture is completely taken up with technology in today's world. There is no escaping it.</div>
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jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389413665754778717noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2422520706033262506.post-6159163613190234132014-02-23T17:52:00.001-08:002014-02-23T17:52:19.489-08:00want to impress everyone with your cooking skillllls?<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-large;">WANT TO PROVE TO EVERYONE (&YOURSELF) THAT YOU CAN ACTUALLY COOK AN EDIBLE (&DELICIOUS)MEAL<b>?</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>Voil<span style="background-color: white;">à!~</span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></b></span>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large;">15 Minute Creamy Avocado Pasta Sauce</span></b> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">[<i>via</i></span> <a href="http://ohsheglows.com/2011/01/31/15-minute-creamy-avocado-pasta/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cc0000;">oh she glows</span></a></span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">]</span></div>
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<a href="http://cdn.ohsheglows.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/01/IMG_0200-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://cdn.ohsheglows.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/01/IMG_0200-3.jpg" height="276" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>(makes two servings)</i></span></div>
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<li>1 medium sized ripe avocado, pitted</li>
<li>1/2 lemon, juiced & lemon zest to garnish</li>
<li>1-3 garlic cloves, to taste (I used 3 and it was super garlicky, but if you are not a big fan of garlic use 1 clove)</li>
<li>1/2 tsp kosher salt, or to taste</li>
<li>~1/4 cup Fresh Basil, (probably optional)</li>
<li>2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil</li>
<li>2 servings/6 oz of your choice of pasta</li>
<li>Freshly ground black pepper, to taste</li>
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<li><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Bring several cups of water to a boil in a medium sized pot. Add in your pasta, reduce heat to medium, and cook until Al Dente, about 8-10 minutes.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Meanwhile, make the sauce by placing the garlic cloves, lemon juice, and olive oil into a food processor. Process until smooth. Now add in the pitted avocado, basil, and salt. Process until smooth and creamy.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">When pasta is done cooking, drain and rinse in a strainer and place pasta into a large bowl. Pour on sauce and toss until fully combined. Garnish with lemon zest and black pepper. Serve immediately. Makes 2 servings.</span></li>
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<a href="http://cdn.ohsheglows.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/01/IMG_01641.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://cdn.ohsheglows.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/01/IMG_01641.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(all pictures, recipe, and directions taken from <a href="http://ohsheglows.com/2011/01/31/15-minute-creamy-avocado-pasta/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #e06666;">oh she glows</span></a>)</span></i></div>
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The internet is fantastic. Really. To be able to pull up simplistic recipes nearly instantaneously is one of my favorite things. While I can absolutely feed myself, I never want to subject others to my cooking just in case I'm delusional and completely blind to how awful something tastes. </div>
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**Except for <a href="http://ohsheglows.com/2011/01/31/15-minute-creamy-avocado-pasta/comment-page-11/#comment-586663" style="font-weight: bold;" target="_blank"><span style="color: #990000;">THIS</span></a><span style="color: #990000;"> </span><span style="color: #cc0000;">RECIPE!</span></div>
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It is so simple! And fast. You basically throw everything into a food processor (I used a blender) and boil water for pasta. Brilliant. </div>
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I didn't have real lemons or any fresh basil in my kitchen when I randomly decided that I was going to cook and not just have a salad for dinner, <b>yet</b> this sauce was exceptional. Next time you want to feed a friend, treat yourself, impress your parents (MOM! LOOOOK! I MADE AN "ADULT MEAL"!), or use up those ripe avocados before they begin to rot... make this. You'll love it. <i><span style="color: #990000;">Promise.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Open Sans', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></span>jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389413665754778717noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2422520706033262506.post-40834828953746519662014-02-16T19:22:00.003-08:002014-02-16T19:23:36.478-08:00“this world would be a whole lot better if we just made an effort to be less horrible to one another.”<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Ellen Page's speech at the Time to Thrive Conference</span></div>
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Last Friday, actress Ellen Page gave a speech at the Human Rights Campaign Foundation's Time to THRIVE conference. Her speech was captivating and powerful. Towards the end it contained a personal confession from the actress, “I am here today because I am gay,” she said. “And because maybe I can make a difference to help others have an easier and more hopeful time.” Bravo to the lovely actress for using her voice to inspire others and declare their own versions of love, especially on the fourteenth of February.</div>
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Valentine's Day has become associated with cheesy cards and chocolate and stupid stuffed bears with hearts. I've actually always found it to be one of the most obnoxious holidays. What we forget is that Valentine's Day does not need to be primarily focused on the material and commercial aspects of our world.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Valentine's Day is about <span style="color: red;">love</span>.</span></i> </span></div>
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And that is what Ellen Page focused on in her speech. Love is an action that changes lives and influences decisions. It is something that helps improve the quality of life for <b>every single person</b>. Something that cannot be defined concretely. <span style="color: #e06666;">Love is love is love is love.</span> It is different for everyone and nothing is right or wrong. I admire Ellen Page for her bravery and obvious passion that she possesses in order to make something so personal very public. However, I am looking forward to the day when declarations of love are not considered newsworthy just because a person professes to love someone of the same sex. Because it shouldn't matter. Love is love no matter who it is between.</div>
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As Ellen Page so eloquently put,</div>
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“<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Century, Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><span style="color: #990000;">this world would be a whole lot better if we just made an effort to be less horrible to one another.</span></span>”</div>
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Can we do that? I really think we can.</div>
jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389413665754778717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2422520706033262506.post-35666475238846622642014-02-11T17:56:00.003-08:002014-02-11T17:56:51.872-08:00what's it all about? (HTML)<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">photo </span><i style="font-size: x-small;">via </i><a href="http://www.mediabistro.com/unbeige/files/2011/02/html.gif" style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-small; font-style: italic;" target="_blank">Google Image</a><br /></td></tr>
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<b style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: #660000;">H</span></b><span style="font-size: small;">yper</span></div>
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<b style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">M</span></b><span style="font-size: small;">ark-up</span></div>
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Do you ever wonder how things work? How this screen has managed to appear on your computer screen? </div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b>Does it matter?</b> </span> </div>
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Today we worry less about <i><span style="color: #e06666;">how things work</span></i>, and focus more on the simple fact <i><span style="color: #cc0000;">that they do</span></i>. However, in order to further develop your ability to 'do things' online, HTML is a necessary evil. Not only do you feel more confident in knowing how to better customize your experience online, you feel more in control of what you are presenting to the world. There is a sense of accomplishment when you successfully navigate around the carrots (< >) and coding and make the Internet language bend to your every whim. </div>
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So, <span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">what are you waiting for?</span> Fluency in HTML will only come with practice!</div>
jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389413665754778717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2422520706033262506.post-13709754959105854632014-02-09T15:46:00.000-08:002014-03-02T19:29:44.786-08:00shameless<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://media.virbcdn.com/cdn_images/resize_1024x1024/48/9cb8c8733f5e8534-The_East_Pole_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://media.virbcdn.com/cdn_images/resize_1024x1024/48/9cb8c8733f5e8534-The_East_Pole_1.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://media.virbcdn.com/cdn_images/resize_1024x1024/4a/8236f8cac0a083fb-wreath.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://media.virbcdn.com/cdn_images/resize_1024x1024/4a/8236f8cac0a083fb-wreath.jpg" /></a><a href="http://media.virbcdn.com/cdn_images/resize_1024x1024/2d/3757c87f190621a9-IMG_2686.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://media.virbcdn.com/cdn_images/resize_1024x1024/2d/3757c87f190621a9-IMG_2686.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>all photos & biography </b><i>via</i><b> <a href="http://www.nicolefranzen.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cc0000;">Nicole's website</span></a></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">“ </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #990000;">Nicole Franzen</span> is a food, lifestyle and travel photographer based in Brooklyn, New York. Her passion for the culinary arts goes way back to her childhood, where she would often spend afternoons watching Great Chefs and practicing cooking techniques while her mother was busy at work.</span></span> <span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She then got her first restaurant job at the age of thirteen and quickly learned the ropes. She traveled to far away lands, living in places such as St. John in the US Virgin Islands and Buenos Aires, Argentina. After fourteen years in the restaurant industry she took a leap of faith and channeled all of her passions through photography. The result? <span style="color: #e06666;"><i>A self taught photographer with a undying passion for food, interior design and travel.</i> </span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">”</span></blockquote>
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I've had the privilege to meet Nicole twice. Once when I was very young (I don't remember it) and a second time when I was about twelve years old. We are family; first cousins, actually. It seems odd to be related to someone and not know them very well, but be able to see their life through the lens of a camera. <span style="color: #990000;">[ One of the fantastic abilities of the internet, no? ]</span> Family or not, Nicole possesses an incredible, enviable talent when she is behind the camera. She has the ability to take the mundane scenes of daily life -- scenes that we pass by every day -- and display them in a way that captivates and inspires you to <b>pay more attention</b> to the beauty surrounding you.</div>
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Check out more of her work here:</div>
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<a href="http://www.nicolefranzen.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Website</span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><a href="http://nicolefranzen.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cc0000;">La Buena Vida</span></a> <span style="color: #e06666;">(blog)</span><span style="color: #cc0000;"> </span></span></div>
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<a href="http://instagram.com/nicole_franzen" target="_blank"><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Instagram</span></a></div>
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jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389413665754778717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2422520706033262506.post-46819690962216140652014-02-09T15:04:00.003-08:002014-02-09T15:04:25.646-08:00don't believe everything you hear[/see]
<span style="font-size: x-large;">“</span><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">. . . it is equally possible that impoverished or immature inquiries are also not worth making, and that the surest way to identify these is to set them against mature paradigms and fully-realized inquiries.</span><span style="font-size: x-large;">”</span><br />
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-- Janet Emig, “Inquiry Paradigms and Writing”</div>
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You know those people who believe everything that they see online? My grandma struggles with this. She once stumbled upon <a href="http://www.theonion.com/" style="font-style: italic;" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cc0000;">The Onion</span></a> and nearly had a heart attack. Not that this only applies to people that are older; I have many friends who are constantly convinced of silly things that have appeared on Facebook or Twitter.</div>
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Though Emig's article, <span style="text-align: right;">“Inquiry Paradigms and Writing,</span><span style="text-align: right;">” is written regarding more of an academic standpoint, it is important to note the connection between her writing and the internet. Rather than simply believing that <b>everything on the internet is fact</b>, take initiative and check information for authenticity.</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: right;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://lmgtfy.com/?q=bigfoot" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">FOR EXAMPLE</span></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">- - - - - - </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">“</span><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">. . . rhetoric creates <b>all</b> of what there is to </span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">know. Discourse does not <i>merely</i> discover truth or make it effective. Discourse <u>creates realities</u> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">rather than truths about realities . . . no reality that humans experience exits apart from </span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">human values, </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">perceptions</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">, </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">and </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">meanings</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">.</span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">”</span></div>
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-- Barry Brummett, “Three Meanings of Epistemic Rhetoric”</div>
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Another concept that is difficult for people to grasp is the <i>sheer amount of knowledge</i> available on the internet. The internet has caused our realities to change; to have such a ginormous amount of information available at our fingertips changes our views of the world. We have the ability to be aware of so many more things than we used to. Instead of demonizing the changes that the internet has caused, we should celebrate the knowledge that it has made available to the public.</div>
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These concepts are relevant in today's education because no longer do students have to take a professors' or texts' words as <span style="color: #e06666;">a b s o l u t e</span>. There is a <i>constant rebuttal</i> of information and this promotes an environment of learning that is <u>brand new</u>. It fosters a setting of<b> constantly changing realities </b>creating <span style="color: #cc0000;">new discourse </span>and allowing knowledge to prevail in ways that it never has before.</div>
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jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389413665754778717noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2422520706033262506.post-32595074990519787662014-02-02T16:46:00.001-08:002014-02-02T16:46:31.628-08:00being a disgusting human being is not okay. even anonymously.I'm sure after reading this title most of you are like, 'duuuuuh, jess.' Really though. The internet makes it so easy for people to be complete jerks to other people. <br />
This is not right, <i>goddamnit</i>! <br />
Having an opinion is one thing, but it should <b>never</b> lead to harassment or bullying. <br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">ENTER LINDSAY BOTTOS <b>:</b></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lxcb5hVlm91qapcf6o1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lxcb5hVlm91qapcf6o1_500.jpg" height="204" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">source: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666;"> <a href="http://lindsaybottos.tumblr.com/search/me" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666;">Lindsay's tumblr</span></a></span></td></tr>
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A blog I follow, <i><a href="http://www.thegloss.com/" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;">The Gloss</span></a></i>, posted an <a href="http://www.thegloss.com/2014/01/31/culture/selfies-project-shows-tumblr-misogyny-lindsay-bottos-anonymous/" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">article</span></a> recently about Lindsay Botto which is where I originally learned/read about her. Lindsay's about me on her <a href="http://lindsaybottos.com/" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">website</span></a> reads:<div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">“</span></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #555555; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; word-spacing: 1px;"><br style="clear: both;" /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #555555; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; word-spacing: 1px;"><b>about</b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #555555; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; word-spacing: 1px;">21 year old senior at the maryland institute college of art // photography major, book arts concentrator, gender studies minor, with a focus in fiber arts</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Lindsay constantly receives anonymous hate on Tumblr, mostly after posting selfies. </span></div>
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<h2 class="me" data-syllable="self·ie" style="color: black; display: inline; font-family: 'Arial Unicode MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
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<h2 class="me" data-syllable="self·ie" style="color: black; display: inline; font-family: 'Arial Unicode MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
self·ie</h2>
<sup style="bottom: 1ex; font-size: 0.75em; height: 0px; line-height: 1; position: relative; vertical-align: baseline;"></sup> <span class="pronset" style="color: #333333;"><span class="show_spellpr" style="display: inline;"><span class="prondelim" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">[</span><span class="pron" style="color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><span class="boldface" style="font-weight: 700;">sel</span>-fee</span><span class="prondelim" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">]</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="pg" style="color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; padding-right: 3px;"><span id="hotword"><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">noun</span> </span></span><span class="labset" style="color: #333333; display: inline; font-size: x-small; font-style: normal;"><span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline; font-family: Georgia, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;"><span id="hotword"><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">Informal.</span></span></span></span><div class="luna-Ent" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span id="hotword"><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">a</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">photograph</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">that</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">one</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">takes</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">of</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">oneself</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">with</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">a</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">digital</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">camera</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">or</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">a</span><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">front-facing</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">smartphone,</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">tablet,</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">or</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">webcam,</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">especially</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">for</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">posting</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">on</span><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">a</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">social-networking</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">or</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">photo-sharing</span> <span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword">website:</span> </span><span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline; font-family: Georgia, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span id="hotword"><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword" style="font-style: italic;">selfies</span><i> </i><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword" style="font-style: italic;">posted</span><i> </i><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword" style="font-style: italic;">by</span><i> </i><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword" style="font-style: italic;">teens</span><i> </i><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword" style="font-style: italic;">on </span><span class="hwc" id="hotword" name="hotword"><i>Twitter. </i></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline; font-family: Georgia, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="hwc" name="hotword"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;">via </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/selfie?s=t" target="_blank">dictionary.com</a></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline; font-family: Georgia, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="hwc" name="hotword"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="ital-inline" style="display: inline; font-family: Georgia, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="hwc" name="hotword"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://24.media.tumblr.com/3ef130e86da1f46f48e60c4f8260cd92/tumblr_mxetfuvk9b1t1jsbzo1_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://24.media.tumblr.com/3ef130e86da1f46f48e60c4f8260cd92/tumblr_mxetfuvk9b1t1jsbzo1_1280.jpg" height="640" width="444" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image from<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666;"> <a href="http://lindsaybottos.tumblr.com/" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666;">Lindsay's tumblr</span></a></span> <i>sourced</i> from<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666;"> <a href="http://kitchen-goth.tumblr.com/post/69214518932" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666;">kitchen-goth</span></a></span></td></tr>
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Rather than just brushing off this abuse, or ignoring it, Lindsay has allowed it to inspire her to begin an art project titled: <i>anonymous</i></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i>anonymous </i>consists of selfies that Lindsay posted on her Tumblr with the anonymous abusive comments embedded onto the images. The striking pictures of Lindsay paired with such contrast contained in the disgusting comments allow for a memorable image that directly showcases the problem that many people, especially women, have to deal with when others feel they have the authority to comment on their appearance; and not only the authority to comment, but that their opinions should directly effect the person they are commenting about.</span></div>
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<a href="http://payload244.cargocollective.com/1/2/65353/7182840/Photo%20on%201-26-14%20at%204.09%20PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://payload244.cargocollective.com/1/2/65353/7182840/Photo%20on%201-26-14%20at%204.09%20PM.jpg" height="425" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://payload244.cargocollective.com/1/2/65353/7182840/Photo%20on%201-26-14%20at%204.12%20PM%20-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://payload244.cargocollective.com/1/2/65353/7182840/Photo%20on%201-26-14%20at%204.12%20PM%20-3.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://payload244.cargocollective.com/1/2/65353/7182840/Photo%20on%201-26-14%20at%204.01%20PM%20-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://payload244.cargocollective.com/1/2/65353/7182840/Photo%20on%201-26-14%20at%204.01%20PM%20-3.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://payload244.cargocollective.com/1/2/65353/7182840/Photo%20on%201-26-14%20at%204.02%20PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://payload244.cargocollective.com/1/2/65353/7182840/Photo%20on%201-26-14%20at%204.02%20PM.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">images from <a href="http://lindsaybottos.com/anonymous" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666;">anonymous</span></a></span></div>
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And while I hope people of the internet realize that just because you <b>can </b>say something, it does <b>not</b> necessarily mean you <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">should</span></i> [be an a$$h0L3], I admire Lindsay for turning it into something positive and thought provoking.<br />
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So, dear readers, do not think <i>methodologically </i>(<b>one</b> truth, and all that crap) because reality is constantly changing (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">ontological! ontological!</span>) and your <i>one truth</i> does not give you a right to belittle someone into feeling badly about themselves. Accept that reality is influenced by every experience and thought that each individual person has, and yours are no better than anyone else's.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;">p.s.--</span> although, I am certain that my readers are all lovely people and would never be as cruel as these people bullying Lindsay online. But spread the message everyone! The golden rule and all.</div>
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jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389413665754778717noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2422520706033262506.post-55990236962272259062014-01-29T19:59:00.000-08:002014-01-29T19:59:07.007-08:00"all media works us over completely"<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://philsayer.files.wordpress.com/2011/11/old-typewriter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://philsayer.files.wordpress.com/2011/11/old-typewriter.jpg" height="198" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Image <i>via</i> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666;"><a href="http://philsayer.files.wordpress.com/2011/11/old-typewriter.jpg" target="_blank">Google Image</a></span></span></td></tr>
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Marshall McLuhan's <i>The Medium is the Massage</i> was published in 1967. Which I just realized <b>today</b>. The writing of McLuhan applies so effectively to the technology of today that it never even occurred to me that McLuhan was writing regarding the 'advanced' <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">[ f o r t h e t i m e ]</span> technology of the telephone, post, and railway. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.biografiasyvidas.com/biografia/m/fotos/mcluhan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.biografiasyvidas.com/biografia/m/fotos/mcluhan.jpg" height="193" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Marshall McLuhan</b><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Image <i>via</i> <a href="http://www.biografiasyvidas.com/biografia/m/fotos/mcluhan.jpg" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666;">Google Images</span></a></span></td></tr>
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One of McLuhan's most prominent statements from <i>The Medium is the Massage</i> is that <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666;">all media works us over completely</span>.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">”</span> This statement can be interpreted in many different ways. However, my interpretation of what McLuhan is trying to say is that he is stressing how media completely interferes and influences every aspect of our lives. This influence is unescapable and uncontrollable. Even now it is difficult to imagine what our lives would be like without being influenced and heavily involved in media.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large; font-weight: bold;">,.;:?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; font-weight: bold;">!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: x-large; font-weight: bold;">‘’</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: x-large; font-weight: bold;">-</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; font-weight: bold;">“</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: x-large; font-weight: bold;">”</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large; font-weight: bold;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(taken from McLuhan's <i>The Medium is the Massage)</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i><br /></i></span>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; font-weight: bold;">“</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We employ visual and spatial metaphors for a great many everyday expressions.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: x-large; font-weight: bold;">”</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">I connected this McLuhan quote (again, written during the <b>1960s</b>), to our use of emojis in social networking, email, and texting. Our technological interactions with one another are done primarily through writing; because voice inflection and nonverbal communication signals cannot be picked up on by just reading, smiley faces and other symbols are used to signify and better clarify our intended meaning to the reader. Without these <i>visual and spatial metaphors</i> our communication would not be nearly as successful. </span></div>
jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389413665754778717noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2422520706033262506.post-4758463872431813872014-01-27T18:03:00.000-08:002014-01-27T18:03:04.571-08:00a literacy revolution<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">“ </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;">I think we're in the midst of a literacy revolution the likes of which we haven't seen since Greek civilization</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">”</span></span></blockquote>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">--Andrea Lunsford via <a href="http://www.wired.com/techbiz/people/magazine/17-09/st_thompson"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666;">Clive Thompson on the New Literacy</span></i></a></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">What is the first thing you do in the morning once you wake up? Do you have to turn off your alarm clock? [Do you even still bother to own an alarm clock?] Or are you like most people nowadays that uses their smart phones as their wake up calls? Our cell phones have connected us so prominently to one another and they are often the first things we interact with in the morning, and the very last thing we touch before falling asleep at night.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Because we are influenced by our many social networking accounts and constant need to be informed, <b><i>we</i></b>, <b>as a generation</b>, <b>are communicating more than any other generation before us</b>.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">We have this fundamental need to share the going ons of our lives, and above all, to be <b>relevant</b>. As Thompson writes,</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666;"> “The fact that students today almost always write for an audience (something virtually no one in my generation did) gives them a different sense of what constitutes good writing.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">If our posts, tweets, and pictures do not inspire, inform, or amu<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">se our friends and the other people connected to us online, what is the point? The need to have our ideas and thoughts confirmed by our public influences our decisions on what and how to say <i>everything</i> online.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font: 13.0px 'Times New Roman'; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">While this definition of <i>kairos</i> (according to <a href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/kairos" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666;">Merriam-Webster</span></a></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>:</b> a time when conditions are right for the accomplishment of a crucial action; the opportune and decisive moment) may not have been what Aristotle had in mind, it is apparent that it is a skill that many people in this generation have, and it is one that will continue to improve and change our perceptions of the world.</span></span></div>
</span>jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389413665754778717noreply@blogger.com8