the link

mr.soeth here is the link to my blog entry http://mrsoeth.blogspot.com/2010/11/frustration.html

have a nice four day weekend =]

so i was talking to Daniel today and we were talking about hw my mother was going to korea tomorrow. then i said taht "im going next friday" and daniel said "cool story bro, go blog about it." So, here i am blogging about how my conversation went with Daniel because he told me to blog about it

On Campus, Vampires Are Besting the Beats

The beginning of the article talks about a student in 1969 and how everyone she knew was (at the time) reading "Soul on Ice," written by Eldridge Cleaver, her new collection of essays. Back then for this student( Alice Echols), that psychedelic time was filled with " The Autobiography of Malcolm X." "The Golden Notebook," the poetry of Sylvia Plath and the erotic diaries of Anais Nin. then it states how four years later you more likely to " hear a werewolf howl than Allen Ginsberg, and Nin's transgressive sexuality was replaced by the fervent chastity of Bella Swan, the teenage heroine of Stephenie Meyer's modern Gothic "Twilight" series."

It also tells how much the author of Twilight sold last year(2008), she soled ---22 million-- and the copies weren't all bought by middle-schoolers. that according to the Chronicle of Higher Education, the best- selling title on college campuses are mostly about hunky vampires or Barack Obama. The article also described " Here we have a generation of young adults away from home for the first time, free to enjoy the most experimental period of their lives, yet they're choosing books like 13-year-old-girls---or their parents. " in a small paragraph the article stated that a question that has been asked for a while now, " What happened to the students who would buy challenging books instead of these students who take an easy-read book?" this question was also recognized by a professor named Eric Williamson, quote,"seen the students snicker when I said that Melville died poor because he couldn't sell books. Then why are we reading him if he wasn't popular?' "Today's graduate students were born when Roland Reagan was elected, their literary values, he claims, reflect our market economy." To me , this statement, its syntax was a more of an insult to the youths literacy.

The article also mentioned what Roger Kimball, a editor and publisher of the New Criterion, said about how market and economy affect the minds of the youths. He said that there were no problems in the economy but yes, the truth is that economical conflicts affect the minds of youths. The many concerns for the way youths are reading and writing some say: quoted by David Farber," that the way Americans think about the age of maturity has shifted considerably."There's much more an emphasis now on kids thinking of themselves as kids, even into their early to mid-20s." This quote does prove that perhaps because the youths would soon no longer be children and be adults perhaps writers have noticed this too. This could be one of the reasons why now the books read by youths are mostly fictional.

Towards the end of the article Mike Connery who writes about progressive youth politics for the Web site Future Majority, he is concerned on how young ones nowadays get to know their politics. He said that they get it off other sites such as Youtube or blogs.how their still looking for their Kerouac. At the end of the article it states how the Internet is a like a way to get information, as easy as looking at someone. They are concerned(literature lovers) of what will become of literature when the youths and the new generations to come have a new and easier way to read/write.

The audience for this article could be anyone/everyone who is concerned about how people, more on the new generations, will learn their literature. They now have access to any kind of literature through the Internet. The articles purpose could be to get you to think about how important it is to consider literature and how the new ways of finding/ learning/ etc.. affect those who refer to do the old fashion way.

Ugh-A-Wug-Waaah :)

"It's a full house, guys! We just sold out! And there's still a huge line outside to get in!" exclaimed Tamara, our choreographer. Panic and suspense shot through my heart while I wondered if my parents and my best friend since pre-school, Mary, had seats to see the performance. All of these thoughts raced through my head, a full house is going to go down in history of Kimball High's Performing Arts, since this has never happened before, but I'm so use of seeing familiar faces in the audience. Interrupting my thought, one of the stage crew members raced to me and told me that my mom was standing outside and she couldn't get in. Joey and I looked at each other, and we both were thinking the same thing, what will do in this situation?

I anxiously grabbed my phone and texted like a text-obsessed teenager with a mission. "MOM, ARE YOU HERE?! WHAT'S HAPPENING?" I could feel the tears about to run through my perfectly blushed cheeks. She texted back in the dreariest five minutes in my life.

"Mary cant come I wont b able 2 make it either, ur dad is there, have a good show:)" As soon as I read the text message, my heart dropped and I felt like I just swallowed a big huge tennis ball. I ran outside and pressed the buttons on my iPhone roughly to call my mom to ask if she was really serious. She didn't pick up the first time. I dialed again, praying she would pick up. She did and I couldn't hold back the voice of a crying girl. "Quinci, are you crying? I got in! Don't worry!" She said and I could hear the smile in her voice which was like a train reaction because I smiled. One of my friends in the show, Molly, came outside and told me that Mrs. Neylan was fixing the seats and my mom probably has a seat now. I turned around and she saw that I was crying, she hugged me until we laughed since she was in the same situation too. I could see how strong she was and it made me stronger.

We went back inside and the show had started, I decided to retouch my makeup in the dressing room where the pirates were waiting to go on stage. I looked in the mirror and jumped at the sight of myself, my eyes were blood-shot red and my eyeliner had made a stream on the middle of my cheeks, which made me even more depressed. I thought out loud to myself, "I can't go on stage, I look like a crack head Indian!" Joey and Nicole ran over to me and helped me wipe my makeup. I broke down again, saying through my sobs, "There so many people coming to see you guys, all of your family but I only have two people." Hugs were coming left and right from all of the pirates. They basically all said that we were all here for each other and every single person in that audience was here to see everyone. It made me realize how much of a brat I sounded. My family was right here, we're all here to support each other. I slowly started to smile and notice all the familiar smiles around me. I couldn't help but laugh at Tynan, Captain Hook and his mustache. I was finally all clear from the tears and got into character of being a brave noble warrior.

Looking out in the audience when Peter Pan and I did Ugh-a-Wug, I saw my friends, Gabby, Evan and Nikki sitting in the third role back and they smiled at the sight of me. I also saw Mrs. Neylan mouth the words, "You can do it." I winked at her and started the dance and song. It was the best we've ever done this show. I was really proud of us, my family. We went out for a bow and it was a standing ovation. I loved the feeling of seeing the crowd cheer. It really didn't matter if I had 2 or 200 people here for me, I had the best feeling in the world of people getting their money's worth.

After the show, my friends, Charlene, Abby, Matt, Gabby, Evan, and Nikki came out and hugged me and said how great I was. Then, I got asked for my own autograph from a little girl. All of this was amazing, but I wanted to see my parents. I looked everywhere and was stopped by random parents saying how amazing I was. I thanked them and smiled and finally saw my parents talking to Mrs. Neylan. My heart filled with glee when I saw them and they gave me big bear hugs and showered me with complements. That night I went home and researched the next musical we we're going to put on, Beauty and the Beast.

Getting into Peter Pan, I would complain about how stupid the freshmen were since they never paid attention and how bad we were going to look on stage. But my thoughts changed, that night made me realize how many friends I made and our friendship to come. Tiger Lily will always be a part of me. That brave noble warrior that will do anything with a passion.

By the way, thank you to everyone who came and supported us :) and this is late because I was absent on Monday, November 1st, 2010, when this was assigned.

Courtesy webshots, user: huney219

“IT’S TIME! Get in a straight line! We’re walking. We’re walking!” I heard the teachers and principals repeating. We were standing in the quad at James Logan High School, around 7:15 in the evening, starting to walk into the Pavilion, where hundreds of audience members waited to watch us finalize our middle school career.  My heart was beating so fast, I felt that on the next beat, it would jump out of my chest at any moment. I was afraid I was going to trip with my high heels the moment I walked into that building. I was so self-conscious, much regretting it now. There was no need to feel that much tension for 3 hours straight. I took my first step into the pavilion, seeing all the flashing cameras and much-too excited relatives of all my peers. I heard whistling and cheering from all around the building.  

I somehow managed to maintain a quick, rhythmic walk all the way to my seat, blending in with the other 350 8^th graders in blue. All the promoters continued to stand waving to their families.  We were waiting for the principal to say “Class of 2008, please be seated.” When Mr. Solórzano finally announced it, the whole gym made a *THUMP* noise, and all the students were seated within a second. It made me smile, since we had practiced that several times. Mr. Solórzano introduced the board members, and the class valedictorian. The superintendent, Mrs. Pat Jaurequi, then introduced her superintendent’s award. After that, the choirs were supposed to perform “In My Life” by The Beetles. I completely forgot I was supposed to go too, because I was in choir, until the boy next to me nudged me and said “Go!” so I almost ran through my row and to the back, where the most of the choir were standing. I was the last one there. So we sang…horribly, but the soloists did even worse. After the choirs went back to their original seats, two female counselors from our school finally claimed the two stands on stage. Everyone sat straight and switched their attention to the two women on the stage.  I heard the name “Jameka Abair”, who was one of my friends, and knew that they had started calling names. For each name, a different section in the audience, or even two, would stomp and cheer for the graduates. While they were calling names, I turned my head in every direction, especially in the back right corner, where I heard my name earlier, searching for my family. No luck. I knew they were there, I just didn’t know where. 

When it was my row’s turn to set out to the stage, I was glad there was only about 7 seconds between each name. That way, I wouldn’t have “my moment.” I know most girls can’t wait for this moment, but I just wanted to get it over with.  I then heard “Samira Haikal” and immediately walked up to the certificate giver.  I decided I’ve never trembled so much in my life. When I grabbed my certificate, I turned my body and posed a fake smile to the photographer. Only then, was when I noticed I had the whole mid-gym walkway to myself. At that point, it seemed like a thousand miles back to my seat. I just walked, not wanting to slow the person behind me. I attempted to catwalk half the way to ease off the pressure, but I failed. It didn’t make me feel better., but I successfully made it back to my seat 

promises meant to be broken.

Disclaimer: By posting this blog I know I am putting this experience on blast, but I'd hope that whoever reads this will honor my request for privacy and discretion concerning this topic. With all due respect, I simply ask that whoever reads this handles the following information with utmost delicacy and secrecy, as it's regarded in a serious manner in my life. But seriously, please don't ever bring this stuff up to anyone else.

"Don't do it in the car. We have kids in the back. Or at least your sister--"

"I don't care. It's my car."

A pack of Camels. Half an hour ago, my mind couldn't come to terms with reality when I found out they were there and who they belonged to. My friend was swinging around a Coach wristlet as if it was a plaything around the mall. Before it smacked me in the face, I grabbed the seemingly-stuffed leather pouch and curiously sliced the zipper open. I didn't think the wristlet's contents would have been such a big deal, but there it was...

Disgust was the immediate forefront emotion in my mind while the memory of a once-honored promise faded into a venom diffusing through my veins; the previous year, my sister and I made a pact together never to start smoking. I did it in honor of our dad, in consideration of how it would utterly destroy him if he lost his daughters to nicotine... Just as he had lost his own father.

Cigarettes. They killed my grandfather. They took his life, they broke my father's heart, and back at the present moment, they had begun to break mine too.

I stood in utter disappointment at the evidence of a broken promise laying right in my hands. There was only one message sprawled across my face: a look that only portrayed the pain of betrayal. My eyes took a double, triple, and quadruple take at the box, scanning left to right and then back left. To my unpleasant surprise, I didn't read the label wrong. I wasn't mistaken... but I was let down.

Nonchalantly sitting in the little pouch was a half-empty box of stoges and a lighter.

Cigarettes. My sister's cigarettes.

As my consciousness returned to the present moment's dialogue in the front seats, my head snapped forward. The black-on-black interior messed up my vision, and I was blinded past the passenger headrest that seemed to blend in with the night.

But, as if on cue, a small, fiery orange circle stood out against the dark canvas before my eyes. My pupils caught this and began to focus as I slowly peered forward. All of a sudden, although expected, I was shoved back by the atrocious trail of smoke that slammed into my respiratory system. My breath instinctively held itself, my eyes glared straight forward as my sister held a lit stoge out the window, and the venom in my veins from half an hour ago floated into my head, consuming me into a state of silent disappointment and... Distrust.

I get that it is my sister's car and she can do whatever she wants in it. I get that my sister is eighteen and she can do whatever she wants because of that. I understand, and I can't do anything about her choices.

But sometimes the ties you hold with your family -- the promises you make with your own flesh and blood -- bind you to a little more that isn't subject to human age or law. The way she went back on the promise we made to each other and for my father's sake just... hurt.

Cigarettes. They left my grandfather lifeless, left my dad fatherless... and now, here I am, left faithless in what I thought could have been an act of kindness honored... in what could have been a promise well-kept.

On Campus, Vampires Are Besting the Beats

Through the increasing amount of more modernized and less education writings, the literature deemed with merit in today's world highly differs than what books were honored decades ago. The "advancement" that comes over time isn't exactly favorable in this respect, however; while classics from the Beat generation get right down to the core of '50s risqué and fervent societal revolutions as interesting -- if not more -- than the present-day books that're fabricated on more youthful and less thought-out principles, the latter still tends to be the more popular type of the two.

Through the article "On Campus, Vampires are besting the beats", the author assesses the book choices of college students. By means of statistics and comparisons between the Beat generation forty years ago and today's society, the writer explains that the choices of literature have degraded in the amount of essential literary merit present, which is something that college students must learn to appreciate in books. "Serious literature" is shunned as students vouch for pieces that are more "entertaining", modernized, and that don't require as much brain power or analysis to understand. By citing credible sources that contribute to ethos, the writer draws the conclusions that students' choices in literature are affected by rising technological advancement; the availability of information easily accessed by media via the social networks, the Internet, and television denies the need for reflecting socio-economic news and standings through literature.