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Assignment 7

Fri, 11 Jan 2008 07:07:40 GMT

(In this piece I imagine the reader to be sitting in a very basic chair with chains on holding down the reader. Light should be very dim and the reader should keep their head down, painting a very grim and oppressed picture)

The topic of my piece is a young girl whom my mother taught in her elementary school. The story of this little girl changed everything that I thought i knew about sexual identity. Over this week I got in contact with her mother and spoke with her about her daughter, Riley.

Trapped. Never a sense of comfort in one’s existence. Constantly feeling uneasy, the feeling one gets when you hear terrible news and you feel like you could throw up but never do. The feeling never goes away; this aliment cannot be cured with any medicine or home remedy. As if this were not terrible enough there are always the continuous reminders that something is not right here, and the kids who do not understand…and don’t care to. Why can’t I just be like my sister, she was not cursed with what I have been, why me? Why did God do this? One way or another I will make the feeling stop…

on 20/20...I found clips of it on youtube.

Riley's mother sent me a copy of her story that was featured on 20/20...I found clips of it on youtube.

youtube.com/watch?v=1W17z6KeiNY&feature=related

watch part 3 and 4

Assignment 5

Wed, 09 Jan 2008 04:51:18 GMT

The piece by Guillermo Gomez-Pena really made me think of this song by NOFX. Just thought I would share.

NOFX- "Don't Call Me White"

Don't call me white, Don't call me white
Don't call me white, Don't call me white

The connotations wearing my nerves thin
Could it be semantics generating the mess we're in?
I understand that language breeds stereotype
But what's the explanation for the malice, for the spite?

Don't call me white, Don't call me white
Don't call me white, Don't call me white

I wasn't brought here, I was born
Circumsized, categorized, allegiance sworn,
Does this mean I have to take such shit
For being fairskinned? No!
I ain't a part of no conspiracy,
I'm just you're average Joe.

Don't call me white, Don't call me white
Don't call me white, Don't call me white

Represents everything I hate,
The soap shoved in your mouth to cleanse the mind
The vast majority of sheep
A buttoned collar, starched and bleached
Constricting veins, the blood flow to the brain slows
They're so fuckin' ordinary white

Don't call me white, Don't call me white
Don't call me white, Don't call me white

We're better off this way
Say what you're gonna say
So go ahead and label me
An asshole cause I can
Accept responsibility, for what I've done
But not for who I am

Don't call me white, Don't call me white
Don't call me white, Don't call me white

Assignment 4

Mon, 07 Jan 2008 05:00:00 GMT

twango 2

Fri, 04 Jan 2008 03:42:09 GMT

I feel that in my dreams I have tunnel vision. I only see what is infront of me and what is the most important to the story unfolding in my dream. That being said what is in focus is very clear, and I can remember the dialect if there is any. The picture above is a good example of how I experience dreams.

day 1

Thu, 03 Jan 2008 01:45:10 GMT

assignment for day1

twango 3

Tue, 18 Dec 2007 15:59:57 GMT