Yay, Updates!

January 7, 2008 at 8: 51 pm01 (Uncategorized)

FINALLY, I found some time to upload stuff I wanted to share. 

Poem, new writings in commentary, etc. etc…I’m very happy :)  

I neatly placed everything in my uploads folder months ago, but didn’t get the chance!  I’m glad this semester is winding down because that only means I’ll have more time to spend on writing and the site later on.  If I have time I might even tweak with the graphics.  I’m also thinking about posting a links page for site with great writing tips in a few days, as well as place some more works in Fiction.  That’s to help those who visit and wish to improve on writing, too!  

There are tons of links in my favorites section in my browser, and if I post them here, I can click delete and make it clog-free…

Well, until then!

Crystal

To be || ! to be…some after thought…

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The Art of War

January 7, 2008 at 8: 51 pm01 (Social Commentary)

On Time and Crazy Hurdle Jumpers

By Crystal Hua

I am only a spectator, in the sense, when I stood overlooking the whole Gabrielino lunch quad one day, and saw amazing sprints.  Students were reinventing the Olympics in front of my eyes as larger boys were dashing and small girls looked like fierce piranhas out to get anyone.  Now, usually I don’t judge people by the way they run or the way their “ginormous” backpacks fly behind them, but I can say I was laughing pretty loudly.  I mean, truth is, if I wasn’t observing the adrenaline in me would have done the same.  You know, need to eat to live, right?  I used to feel no shame whatsoever running down the B building like physically disadvantaged me; then flying through lunch tables only to pant like a dog and say “Ha!  I made it before–*breathe– you.”

But being one day older in observation, I feel strange.  Time, like the ticking one, lingers over students during lunch—is not timeless.  We live in America.  The cooperate society that says dash and run at the sound of the shotgun and last is the loser.  I have been Loser only twice during lunchtimes because I was so far from my rubber, teriyaki rice bowl.  But, being Smart Loser I found that if I went against the edge of the wall and waved like an idiot saying “Hey!  Hey so-and-so!” and pretend I knew the girl next to me, I could cut significantly.  Even so, my sense of moral judgment cannot become clouded by the need to feed. 

The point is, students stand in lunch lines that get only larger as the years grow on and from the lack of efforts to censor people from outside the school that use a fake SG address to come to Gabrielino.  It’s not exactly a bad thing, because the shady business is that there are smart people outside of SG and we need to bring them to our school.  But is that ethnically fair for others?  Not counting the impossibility of removing everyone, we get into the whole issue of who to oust and not.  And the next thing we know we will be asked to monitor the dogs that come to sniff for crack and other illegal substances.  So what do we do?  We can leave the situation as it is and field a new track team from the exercises every lunch.  Or we can fix the problem through less dramatic means.  There is a solution to our problems even though we cannot stop time. 

Believe it or not, cooperate America can be fair to employees by giving bonuses and amazing them through what-not means.  So at GHS we need to amuse our students.  Instead of making people wait in endless lines, why not cut them down?  Why not create more of those lunchlady stands or more machines to scan those flashy pink cards that scream scratch.  Or we could do what Disneyland does and make lines more compact to save space to have them become the happiest places on earth. 

What I’m saying is that there is a solution, one that requires the motivation of students and administration.  As such, in the art of war all is fair, right?  So in all fairness we can take hand’s time and leave the blaming on our shoulders to fix.  We need leaders, not another generation of Marion Jones.  We need action and we need to consider the possibilities.  So, that’s why the art of war is…bloody art, but also something to improve upon and make our school blood face and well fed.  

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Onion Skins and Mocha Frappuccino

January 7, 2008 at 8: 51 pm01 (Social Commentary)

My actions would indicate that I was born in a third-world country and shipped to America during the prime age of adolescence.  Neither deprived nor from foreign lands, I was generally awkward in social situations and life in general.   

            Sure, I had friends and could chew gum while window-shopping with them on occasion, but hadn’t noticed that unless introduced to such things I was hopeless. So, what’s with Starbucks?  

My first encounter with the café was when I lived in a developing city, watching friends dribble over something called ‘Mocha Frappuccino.  Though what made Starbucks memorable was a particular time I ventured in alone, and didn’t know what to order.  Standing behind that sleek counter and hearing vicious machines whir and pound helpless coffee beans from Brazil made me almost nauseous.  Gurgling temptations to adjust my glasses and view the blurry menu overtook me.  Why?  I couldn’t drink coffee or stand smelling Folders when grownups would have their daily ‘caffeine-wake-up-call.’ So, how did I end up at a famous world class coffee shop?  I only wanted a ‘drink,’ which was an excuse to stay inside a trendy place and pretend to wait for someone, too.  In actuality, I would be busily typing a report for Biology due the next day.  

            Soon seconds ticked to “Thank-you—May I help the next customer?”, and equipping me with one robotic phrase. 

            “One Mocha Frappuccino.” 

            Forgetting the ‘please’ and pointing a devastated five dollar bill towards the clerk, I also noticed there was a space between the breath of words I whispered and the lady-clerk which spelt weird.  But I was more afraid Ms. Carry (her name tag) would say, “I’m sorry Mocha Frappuccino’s were ten years ago…they’re gone now.”

            Instead of the dreaded reply, she asked, “What size?”

“Decaf?  No I don’t know what size that is.  But small…Small is always small.” I thought, “At least I won’t suffocate from larger portions of MO-chaness.”

            Confidently, I proclaimed, “Small!”

            The wait was exactly five minutes and ten seconds until employee Bob yelled, “One small Mocha Frappuccino!”

            Grabbing the drink without saying a word, I relocated to a private sector far from the pick-up line.  I made it.  SURVIVAL-OF-THE-FITTEST. 

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A Moment of Swirls

January 7, 2008 at 8: 51 pm01 (Fiction Writing)

The first time I went to the ‘Doughnut Shop’ with Grandpa was when I was six.  I was sitting in the basket attached to his silver mountain bike with the wind whipping in my face.  The ride usually lasted for ten minutes from his home to some corner, that is long since gone by now—but the memory of it remains.

            Grandpa would swerve around corners and I would yell, “Yip—pee!” and we would both say, “Let’s do that again!”  As I recall these times, I remember Grandpa as a younger version of what he looks like today: old, but with an essence of youth still engulfing him.  He also wore this grayish bowler hat when he stepped outside and tilted it to the side of his bald head, which made me think of some detective.  To me, Grandpa was the coolest!

            After the fun ride Grandpa would eventually come to a stop at our destination in front of the Doughnut Shop.  The first time we arrived there together I waited for the click, click of the chain to tie the bike so that it would not be stolen.  Then we stepped into the small, glass window shop and inhaled that sweet air.  On that day in particular, the merry sound of customers could not be heard and the whirring shop only contained the owner, Grandpa, and, of course, me.  Stepping inside there were a few unorganized tables and chairs and straight ahead was a bright lime-green counter with a cashier.  Lined on the right side of the wall were the grand assortments of doughnuts of all shapes and sizes with the most interesting decorations.  And behind the counter was a completely different world decked with posters of coffee, a flashing menu high above, and the various gadgets making the noises of life that made shop so distinct.  I gasped. 

            “Alright, you can go over there and pick any doughnut you want, “ points Grandpa. “But don’t tell your grandma, okay?” 

            I just shake my head and shuffle over to the encased doughnuts.  They were lined in the most beautiful order with chocolate frosting, fillings sticking out, and different kinds of sprinkles jutting everywhere.  I did not know what to make of the sight.  I ate doughnuts before, but never appreciated the moments of munching on one.  The owner saw my astonished face and small hands pressing against the glass and laughed saying, “Who is this, now?” 

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Finding

January 7, 2008 at 8: 51 pm01 (Poetry)

Some days ago, I found a poem I wrote using 14 (?) works.  I look a line or two out of the works and made it into something new.  If I find the titles I’ll post them up as well!

The weary blues – I know why the caged bird sings – I, too - Sing America (one of my favorites :) ) – america – etc Sing America. The very first time I thought I was lost, My dungeon shook and my chains fell off,The days were still stuffy with summer,I was in America, Among the Americans— But not of them. No idle passenger Traveling through life, The watcher turns his eyes away,His dreams mocked to death by time,Scorned by attitudes,He will explode.   Left his footprints in the skyWith a big knife,Without pencil or paper, With one thousand masterpieces, Hanging only from his mind— Maybe it just sags.  Like wet cornstarch, I slide,I was a guide, A pathfinder, An original settler,But I laugh,I LIVE THE ANSWER! Besides,Why should the world be overwise?Tomorrow the radiant stars, Too full to swallow any sorrow,Counting all our tears and sighs,Let the world dream otherwise.   Then,I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,The darkness under the trees,When he beats his bars and would be free.  

I, too, am America.

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The Puritan Society, Seen

January 7, 2008 at 8: 51 pm01 (Analytical Essays)

     The central component dictating Puritan life and culture is set heavily upon religion. Even today, the effects of strict Puritan class are seen in literature such as The Crucible by Arthur Miller; along with The Scarlet Letter and “Young Goodman Brown”, both written by Nathaniel Hawthorne. The dreary sentiments of the characters depicted in these literary pieces are with vivid portrayal of the flaws seen in a society based on theocracy. These works center on the Puritan society and its ill- contempt for sin, but also branches into corruption or punishment, identity, and constraint, to reassert negative aspects of the religious and social values Puritan culture holds.
      In The Crucible demanding Puritan ideology is enforced, as corrupt Salem, Massachusetts goes through the process of purging the town from those ‘criminals’ of witchcraft. From this results unjust punishment that remains hidden by religious notions and pressure from society. Although there is stress that the characters experience the fear of dying, they also claim to want “…the sweet light of God…” (Miller 50), which is one explanation to hide reasons to pit Puritan against Puritan. Years of religious zeal has finally given the inhabitants of Salem an opportunity for vengeance and profit. For instance, Reverend Parris is one who finds inspiration through self-interest as he keeps the flames of fear and contempt alive when trying to salvage his name and position. Parris is aware of his wrongdoings, but is greedy and feels immense pressure to continue his deceit as he tries to convince the court “…not to believe in terrible simple lies…” (Miller 113). Though, the harsh reality of the trials does not end with Parris, as there are others who believe they are correct for condemning neighbors due to just causes, such as Judge Danforth, an innocent man, whose devout nature and need for a good reputation turns into decay that overtly religious Puritan culture has fostered.
     Danforth’s inability to distinguish good and evil leads him to persecute more people as he cites the Bible to reinforce that “… witchcraft which is punishable by law and to damn all forebearers…” (Miller 107). Aside from unjust motions taking the Bible literally, Danforth is a man who cares much about the reputation of the court he holds, implying the societal aspects of a Puritan society. In order to uphold this, he cannot fathom the mistake of witchcraft and becomes blind by stubborn beliefs. His need to retain his reputation shows strong association with the correct manners in Puritan society and honor that stays with him to the end when he says, “Because it is my name!…I have given you my soul now leave me my name!” (Miller 150). Reputation is the identity of utmost importance that defines a person in a Puritan setting and the loss of it holds devastating consequences, resulting in mockery amongst the judgmental Puritans.
     Furthermore, religion can be seen embedded in the harsh Salem community when Hale asks Proctor, “… I note that you are rarely in the church on Sabbath Day…Will you tell me why you are so absent?” (Miller 64).
The Puritans are critical of minor details in their neighbors’ lives, suggesting the close-knit lifestyle and invasion of privacy. This cold and discipline society stems far from ‘Christian-love’ and is the excuse for fostering hysteria and wretched conviction coming from the town.
     Although not in exact year, the Puritan mind-set is still dominant in The Scarlet Letter, set in Boston, Massachusetts. Punishment is seen in many different ways as it is either encouraged by society or due to ferocity for religious redemption. Hester Pyrnne (who is not a Puritan) is molded by society from her punishment to wear the scarlet letter, transforming her to become “…withered by [the] red-hot brand…a woman” (Hawthorne 170), losing a feel for life and masking her feminine side. This proves the effects of how the Puritans’ religious way of life can change those not even in their circle of faith. In a world where solitude and despair traps Hester, society shuns her as a sinner of adultery, but not glanced upon for dignity and knowledge of repentance that she comes to represent.
     In a similar state of denial, the religious and devout Arthur Dimmesdale feels a great urging to atone for his secret crime of adultery with Hester. His action leads him to feel hopelessness for the attainment of salvation and his internal struggles prevent him from confessing for seven worn years. The imprint of sin and need to repent plants itself deeply into the minister’s heart, showing that even without the help of society, religious duty reigns the minds’ of people everyday.
     The instance of Hester being an outcast from the Puritan community is one statement, but causes the town to deteriorate in the misconception that her self-imprisonment is a step to improvement. Over time Hester’s scarlet letter has come replace the ‘Adultery’ to ‘Able’, and this brand tries to link Hester to a kind person who is “…so strong…with a woman’s strength” (Hawthorne 168). As it is shown, Hester is now integrated with the scarlet letter because it entwines her physical and spiritual being with sin. Truth continues to hold that treatment of the unjust world and the weight of the scarlet letter leant her characteristics of “Shame, Despair, [and] Solitude” (Hawthorne 209)! In identifiable ways, Dimmesdale has “…at the head of the social system…stood, only the more trammelled by its regulations, its principles, and even its prejudices” (Hawthorne 209). From perspective, Puritan standing can restrain the people as it has done to Hester and Dimmesdale. The lesson of adultery is only seen in the eyes of the Puritans, but Hawthorne’s depiction of the lovers’ tragedy shows the Puritans failure to see that every person has the ability and temptation to become a pointed sinner.
     As mentioned, temptation can take hold of a person and lead to their demise, which is also seen in the story “Young Goodman Brown”. In an allegorical reference to Adam and Eve, what is beckoning Goodman Brown to go into the forest is his tempt for leaving the comforts of home to step into a world of sin. Brown is forever affected by his trip to the forest and lives the rest of his life as an unfeeling man, even after his hour of death gloom” (Hawthorne 198). Hawthorne shows how the belief of deep sin has ruined Brown and the scar of viewing every person as a sinner has made him into a forlorn person. He expresses an inability to forgive and move on with life, allowing the mistakes of the black stain he sees in the world to erode and constrain him. This depiction of gloom that surrounds Brown is the atmosphere, prevailing during the times of the Witch Trials and throughout the general scope of Puritan era. 
     Miller skillfully amplifies the corruption that can sprout from negative motivations which compliment a sense of religious ‘right-doing’. Likewise, Hawthorne relies heavily on the aspects of social values depicted in his Scarlet Letter, and “Young Goodman Brown” is in support of this by exemplifying the results, too. The Puritans found success when creating foundational moral and ethic codes that restrict and oppress people in a theocratic setting, and is also seen as far-fetched and damaging to the freedom of humanity. In The Crucible, The Scarlet Letter, and “Young Goodman Brown”, there is much to gain from the reenactment of Puritans time and how their laws and lifestyle affect that which is still known as the Puritan culture.

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