Transcript - Drawing Challenge

Transcript

J: across from the Christmas tree \/ yeah /\

B: no (.) from the bauble /\

J: yeah yeah ye:::ah /\ (.) but then you said go up /\

B: right \/ (1) kay \/ so then go four (.) thumb marks across \/ /

J: /yeah \/ but then/

B: /from the (.) from the bauble/

J: /yeah /\

B: and then four thumb marks/ up

J: /but that brings me to the Christmas/ tree /\

B: no it does not \/ no/ it doesn’t \/

J:/yes it does \/ /

B: /it gets me to the bottom of the Christmas tree \/

J: okay (.) fine /so just say the bottom

B: /okay/

J: /the bottom of the Christmas tree

 

The task was much harder than I thought it would be - without the use of body language we had to rely solely on our powers of description. Beth instructed me first and our back-and-fourth meant our pictures came out looking quite similar in the end. I think the fact we double checked things with each other helped when recreating the picture, as we could be sure of placement and size. It was a little frustrating not being able to show each other what we meant with our body language, but we did alright and it was fun.

 

Throughout the transcript our intonation tends to go up at the end of our utterances, suggesting a questioning tone. This was helpful as it gave the other person a chance to correct them and redirect them, as Beth did when I said, 'across from the Christmas tree \/ yeah /\'.

   Beth's use of 'kay' is colloquial and shows a relaxed relationship between us, where she is comfortable enough not to speak in a formal manner. She uses the word 'right' as a filler in order to keep her turn, even with the short pause. Beth pauses more frequently during the dialogue because she needs time to think about how she is going to describe to me the shapes. This deliberation is also clear with her repetition of 'from the', which gave her a chance to clear her thoughts and prevent herself from becoming confused.

   I use back channel agreement with 'yeah' in order to show I am listening and trying to understand, encouraging Beth to continue explaining. My previous 'yeah yeah ye:::ah' show my personal speech pattern, and my desire to understand what Beth is trying to explain.

   Our interruptions and overlaps in  the transcript show our frustration at not being able to see each other, which inevitably led to confusion. Our intonation goes down when we are sure that we're right during our disagreement, 'no/ it doesn't \/', '/yes it does \//'. This drop makes the statements seem stronger and more argumentative.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

First Draft of Monologue (500)

A HAUNTED HOUSE

A monologue from the short play by Josie Cubie

18 year old Isabel is sat alone at the kitchen table, her legs curled beneath her and her head resting on one hand. With her other hand she is playing with the one-way ticket that brought her back home from boarding school.

ISABEL: I didn't think it would be very different, but it is somehow. The outside walls of the house are still the same dull yellow colour, still filled with dark windows, and yet I don't recognise it. Even the smell of the place has changed – thick cigarette smoke no longer hangs burning in the air beneath my nose, tickling my top lip, curling up into my nostrils to rest. It’s funny, really, but without the dry tobacco leaves muddying the air…the house seems a little more alive. That is funny right? How his death – the absence of him and his oldest habit – has made this live-in graveyard pulse with life.

[Stops playing with ticket.]

My mother sent for me a week after his death. She wrote me a letter, vague and dry enough that she could have been talking about losing her job or even a set of keys. It was only the last line that had even hinted at my father's death. She had added it right on the end, like it was an afterthought. I know what she would have said. “Oh, perhaps I should let Izzy know that her father has died. Maybe she'd like to know. She's peculiar like that - maybe she'll even cry. Who knows what odd things that girl will do.”

Of course I wanted to know. Wouldn't you? Am I the only one that thinks it cold to tell your only daughter such an awful thing at the very end of a letter so stuffed full of formalities that I might forgive you for thinking it was from an employer rather than a parent?? Three words were all she deemed necessary to break the news: Your father's died. Thank you, mother. Thank you.

[Unfurls legs.]

I know it's silly or stupid or maybe both but I've been back for a week now and I feel homesick in my own home. I'm not even sure if calling this place my home is fair any more; I've been away at school for so long that the word tastes funny in my mouth. It doesn't help that there is no family here. “Home is where your family is” they say. But if that's the case I'm not sure where my home is.

You see, after the letter I had expected to come back to one less parent – that was a given, he had died - but entering this house meant peeling back an old dusty curtain that hid the corpse of my mother.

[Pause.]

It's like she's decided that if my father's gone, she might as well be too. But don't think of her as romantic or sad and lonely. Because for the past few years their feelings towards each other have grown into something more akin to distaste than affection. And if she were lonely...well I'm here, aren't I? Shouldn't I be enough?

[Looks down at ticket.]

First Draft of Comment Article (500)

It’s time to let the cat out the (school isn’t everyone’s) bag

There is a fine line between disliking school and genuinely struggling with the system, one which is too often blurred

Josie Cubie

The Observer, Monday 21 October 2013 13:00 BST

Struggling students are often seen as 'stupid' or 'naughty'
Photograph: http://www.soulbuilders.net/soulblog/

 

It’s no secret that school's not exactly everybody’s idea of Heaven On Earth, so it isn’t a surprise when we hear children grouching through their school years, proclaiming to all who will listen ‘I HATE SCHOOL’. And who doesn’t remember grudgingly slamming a hand down on the snooze button of their alarm clock, too groggy and sleepy-eyed to have strength enough to lift themselves out of bed? Who can’t recall the winter mornings when stepping out from the shower felt as ludicrous an idea as jumping naked into an ice lake? Who didn’t feign illness on the first Monday back, when PE was on the cards and an English essay was due three days before?

I remember a time in my own school career when I wholeheartedly believed that the educational institute which I attended couldn’t possibly have been any worse. As most young people tend to do, I exaggerated my situation, made it seem far shoddier than it was. But the facts were these: I had friends (some good friends, even), I did well enough in the subjects I most enjoyed and I was not picked on.

Although I may not have been up before the cockerel, ready and rearing to go, I can’t deny that school was a good place for me to be.

For my brother I know that this wasn't the case. He battled with school throughout his time there, and though we attended the same institute our experiences were vastly different. Whether this was because of gender differences, his struggles with dyslexia and dyspraxia, or simply because he wasn't wired for school, I don't know. But I do know that everyday that he was forced to attend, made him hate the whole ruddy system that little bit more.

My eldest brother eventually found himself in PRU, the Pupil Referral Unit, which (while it was a better environment for him than school) was still a way away from what he needed. The places he was enduring – even PRU – were too objective in their approach, when what he really required was a system that catered to his individual needs.

It would be unfair to say that PRU did not help my brother, but I was shocked at the stigma that was attached to his attendance there. It was seen as somewhere for 'idiots' or 'pests' that had been thrown out of school for their lack of effort, or worse, worth. Even my own friends seemed to think it was a bum-hangout.

And since I am able to use this platform for good (even if nobody reads it), I'd like us all to take a moment to realise that this connotation is as twisted as tree roots.

Opening to a Technology Blog Article

theguardian

TECHNOLOGY BLOG

Twitter: why the whole nation's in a flap

After years of snowballing interest, Twitter has finally nested in our hearts, with more people joining than ever before

Josie Cubie

theguardian.com, Monday 14 October 2013 12.42 BST

With PR Daily estimating that there are currently over 100 million people using Twitter on a regular basis, it would be fair to say that this social networking site plays a very important role in today's society.

Celebrities such as Stephen Fry, Ricky Gervais and the cast of hit reality TV show Made in Chelsea frequently post their opinions and thoughts online for fans to see, leading to a growth in site visitors – most of whom are keen to stay in the loop. Never has it been easier to “follow” your favourite stars, as they are now available at the click of a button.

Twitter’s snowballing popularity could also be largely due to its accessibility, as it is possible for anybody with access to the internet to create their own account and begin “tweeting”. K Bevan, from The Guardian, described the website as being “a collection of microblogs where people post their minute-by-minute thoughts and actions.” Supposedly, it is this instant flow of information and gratification that makes Twitter such a popular expressive forum.

The website even has its own identifiable language, the use of which can often be heard outside of the internet. “Hashtags”, “Trends”, and “Retweets” are spoken casually about, as though they have been a part of our lives for longer than the four years Twitter has existed.

Jack Dorsey, one of the three men responsible for the arrival of the Twitter-era, has managed to smoothly integrate the site into every part of our daily lives: our phones, our facebook profiles, our favourite TV programmes – it is even used as a teaching aid in schools.

 

Travel Writing - Prague

This is meant to be like an extract...

 

 

Standing here looking over the low wall of the Charles Bridge, I feel a strange warmth wash over me – I am in a fairy tale. As the sky grows darker, dripping black ink onto the furthest edge of the horizon, the city of Prague is flooded with fire-warm lights, not dissimilar to those strung across the Christmas trees back home. It is in the incandescent glow of these night time lights that the city truly comes alive. Streets of market stalls that tower with braided buns and sweet loupák (a bread that I have come to love), clusters of brightly lit cafés, hordes of people spilling out from theatres and museums, their spirits heightened by the sight of the Vltava river, which flows silently through the capital. No one rushes home, though even now in the melting spring the wind is bitter enough that they might.

   We are on our way to the castle, walking slowly through cobbled streets, and already I can see its winding turrets reaching up from the earth like arms to the Heavens. Though I have been here once before, the city is different now: alive somehow with the electricity that pulses through the annual throng of over four million tourists – quadruple the population of this enchanted city.

   My last visit was during the winter, when icy lattices made diamonds of the stonework and fresh snow softened the gothic nature of the Czech Republic’s oldest buildings. Now there is no frost, and I see Prague for what it is: an ancient city that thrums with culture, its golden-grey buttresses a perfect likeness to the ones I imagined while reading all my favourite stories – Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, Beauty and the Beast. While it is fair to say that there is something sinister about the shadows cast by crouching gargoyles, the hairs that stand up on my neck only deepen my love for this city.

My Own Monologue

The style model I used was the Keately monologue we looked at in class.

Allison Gilbert is a working mother whose husband is having an affair. She sits alone in the playground of the school where she works, waiting to be picked up by her daughter.

ALLISON: We met at nursing school, he and I. (Pause.) We were both based in Southampton, within the same block of tiny, red brick flats. They were naff, those flats. The ceilings oozed black treacle and the carpets where lumpy and worn: the play areas of hidden rodents...I suppose we didn't really care at the time. We were students; free of our parents for the first time. (Pause. Subtle smile.) When I met him I thought he was gay, you know. He wore these tight leather trousers that left almost nothing to the imagination, and his hands - they moved in this ethereal, flowing way that reminded me of a ballet dancer. Imagine that! (Long pause. Smile Fades.) A year later we were engaged. He took me to Bath for the day and we walked through the city until we found a sweet little café that sold afternoon tea...Betty's Teapot, I think it was. (Thinking.) He went to fetch us some scones – a mountain of them – and came back balancing a little velvet box in the crook of his arm. (Pause. Looks down at feet.) I'm Mrs Gilbert now. (Quiet.) We were happy. He loved me. (Looks up. Weak smile.) I know that he still does – believe me, I know it...I don't think that you can bring three children into the world with someone and feel nothing for them. (Pause.) They're all grown up now. Our eldest, Dylan, is at university studying for his final year. He's training to become a paramedic, and we're all very proud of him. 'We're proud of you,' we say. And we are. (Pause.) It's quieter in the house now that the kids are starting to live their own separate lives. I remember when my husband and I would beg for silence...and now the absence of noise is what keeps me awake at night. (Thoughtful.) It's hard to converse with someone you've been talking to to for twenty five years, but we make it work. Find things to say. 'Nice weather, hey, Ally?' 'Beach weather I'd say, Nick.' 'Anything good for dinner?' 'Haven't got that far yet.' 'Oh right.' 'How was work?' 'The usual. Anything good on TV tonight?' (Long pause. Deep breath.) We've always been open with each other. Always. Truly, we have. It's just that nowadays it's much harder. And all the secrets...just seem so much easier. (Sighs.) He works shifts now, sometimes even nights. Goes out early, comes home late. But he comes home. That's the point, isn't it? He comes back to me, sleeps in my bed, kisses my damp cheek, tells me he loves me. He's there. (Pause. Honest smile.) Before the jobs, the kids, the mortgage – before the big white wedding that made our parents so happy – my husband would sing to me each morning. His voice was terrible. He couldn't hold a note to save his life, but nonetheless we would dance to his songs and he would hold me tight to him, caressing my back as though he'd never felt a silk so fine as my skin. (Silent.) I used to think that he would sing to me utnil the day that one of us died. (Struggling now.) But he doesn't sing any more; not to me. The silk of my skin has turned to coarse Hessian beneath his fingers. The silly nicknames that we came up with the day we moved in together...hang limply in the thin air between our smiles. (Long pause.) I loved him. I married him. I trusted him. I still do. Isn't that what I tell him everyday? I do, I do, I do...

Opinion Article

The Big Problem with Small Talk: Why I Hate Family ‘Parties’

Small talk has been a dark shadow at the heels of the Average Joe for millennia – and it’s time for us to take back the silence

Josie Cubie

The Guardian, Monday 7 October 2013

 

In the past I have spoken openly about my distaste for the sordid gatherings that are so hastily (and rather distastefully) labelled ‘family parties’ – but until now I have kept my reasons for detesting this particular loathsome activity to myself. Not anymore.

It seems that this great nation has become a victim of one of the dullest pastimes imaginable: talking about the weather. As if the days are not long enough, the clouds not dark enough, the pavements not damp enough, we feel the inherent need to make our conversations rain.

Alone at a bus stop? Let it pour. Visiting the buffet table at your brother’s anniversary? Expect a shower. Checking out items at the supermarket tills? May the heavens open above you.

All of this is not to say that I don’t enjoy a good natter – I do. It’s just that I faithfully stand behind the philosophy that talking non-stop about the size of the potholes on the local high-street will gain you minus three friends. Perhaps minus four.

Although most people capable of speech have at some point accidentally allowed themselves to slip into conversations that could be seen as boring or time wasting (myself included), my years of mindlessly wondering this planet have led me to believe that those with the highest level of accountability, the greatest expertise in the field of blathering, the LARGEST of umbrellas, are in fact OAPs.

Incidentally, it was my own Grandmother’s actions that prompted me to write an article on the subject. To her, apparently, my cheerful perusing of the snack table at the latest family revelry was an unwitting invitation for her to march up to me and ask the same ruddy question she does every time we are forced into the same musty old room: ‘My, haven’t you grown?’

Perhaps the correct response is quite different to the one I usually give – a stiff nod of the head, an awkward smile, a whispered ‘so have you, Gran,’ – but I don’t believe that any response would prevent my dear old Grandmother from steam training ahead with a list of questions that I will surely have to repeat at least fifty times during the course of the evening. Yes, Gran, college is great. Yes, Gran, I’m learning a lot. Yes, Gran, I’ve been eating my greens. I stand uncomfortably before the motley crew that is my dear family, arms crossed over my chest, hiding the silly dress that I bought believing that it would fit the occasion well. This is not my idea of a fun Saturday night.

While (of course) I love my family, I do not necessarily want to dress up and sit around a long table exchanging civilities with them until the cows come home. It’d be much more interesting if we all just freed ourselves of the chains and swore at each other across tables, ranted about all the things we truly despise, argued over chicken legs. After all, my immediate family are hardly the types to sit prettily upon their silken napkins, waiting for someone to politely pass around the potato salad. Heck no. There are no rainy conversations at my house, only storms and tsunamis and earth shaking accusations. It’s more interesting that way.

There will come a time, I’m sure, when I will enjoy nothing more than a cup of Earl Grey and blether about the newly installed traffic lights that are giving me jip, but right now, I’d rather a roaring argument than a friendly catch up.  

Sure, small talk may be polite, some may even believe it to be necessary, but it’s as boring as meat and two veg, as mind numbing as a speech from Katie Price, and as predictable as a Sandra Bullock movie.

And if you disagree, then I had better get my brolly out.

 

 

The Web

Summary of The Web: A prostitute argues with her pimp about her serious illness and her baby in their New York apartment. A neighbor storms in and comes to the woman’s rescue. He turns out to be a criminal in hiding. He is shot in the hallway, and the prostitute ends up with the blame.

 

"It’s easy to say: “Why don’t I beat it?” I can’t. I never have enough coin to make a good break and git out of town. He takes it all away from me. And if I went to some other part of this burg he’d find me and kill me. Even if he didn’t kill me he’d have me pinched and where’ud the kid be then? [grimly] Oh, he’s got me where he wants me all right. He squares it with the cops so they don’t hold me up for walkin’ the streets. Yuh ought to be wise enough to know all of his kind stand in. But if he tipped them off to do it they’d pinch me before I’d gone a block. Then it’ud be the Island fur mine. [scornfully] D’yuh suppose they’d keep me any place if they knew what I was? And d’yuh suppose he wouldn’t tell them or have someone else tell them? Yuh don’t know the game I’m up against."

- The Web, Eugene O'Niell

 

This dramatic monologue, written by Eugene O’Neill, is spoken from the point of view of Rose Thomas, a prostitute, and because of this it has been written in the first person. To emphasize the speaker's sociolect, O’Neill uses colloquial language, high-frequency lexis (‘good’, ‘takes’, ‘place’) and slang words and phrases such as 'beat it', 'burg' and 'have me pinched'. These techniques convey her low social standing within the community she lives. The use of non-standard spellings like 'git' rather than get, ‘yuh’ rather than you, and 'where'ud' rather than where'd also help in crafting a regional dialect which suggests she is living in a more deprived area. These language techniques are very important for a spoken piece such as this, as they direct the speaker as to how it should be performed and they can inform the audience of the persona's place in society, where the scene is set (or indeed where the speaker is supposed to be from), and how comfortable the character is.

   Rose seems hopeless in this text, and we see this with O'Neill's use of the rhetorical question 'where'ud the kid be then?' She believes that even if she attempted leaving her dreadful life, there would be dire consequences for either her or her baby.

   None of the sentences within the monologue are complex, and this is used both to get across her frustration – she is at breaking point – and to imply a lack of intellectuality. O’Neill wants us to empathize with the persona, and not judge Rose because of her profession – a profession that she may well have been forced into.

   The writer never uses the pimps name, instead he uses the pronoun ‘he’ several times throughout the text. This lack of identity is intimidating and also shows the hatred she harbours towards him. She loathes and fears him so much she cannot even say his name aloud. O'Neill uses another personal pronoun 'you' to make the auience feel guilty for the way they may have previously thought of prostitutes. The synethic personalisation created makes them feel as though perhaps they could have helped her free herself, and they chose to ignore her. The persona says herself 'It’s easy to say: “Why don’t I beat it?”', but if she is not helped by 'you' the audience, she 'can't'. 

  O’Neill uses the noun ‘game’ in order to create a metaphor about Rose’s situation, showing her belief that her life can end in only one of two ways: she will win, or she will lose. And with the tone created by the final sentence ‘Yuh don’t know the game I’m up against,’ it seems clear that currently losing seems inevitable.  We can also see this in the stage directions ‘[grimly]’ and ‘[scornfully]’ – these adjectives are extremely negative, and that is no surprise considering her lot in life.

Blog Style Model Commentary

“Hi everyone,

I recently came across this question in the MichellePhan.com forum: how can I cover my freckles? According to SheKnows, a freckle is a heavy deposit of melanin in one particular spot on the skin – the cells that produce melanin are triggered by sunlight.  However, freckles are also genetic; people with light skin have less melanin, which causes them to freckle instead of tan.  As my subbies have explained here, some people have freckles year-round, while for some, freckles only emerge during sun exposure.  Some people say one DIY way to fade freckles is with lemon juice – lemons have skin-brightening properties that may be able to fade the look of freckles over time.

I personally think freckles are a unique and beautiful trait that you should be proud of! But if you insist on having a bit more coverage, try these steps…

1. Begin with a cream concealer. If you have dark freckles, dab a bit of concealer over them; use concealer 2-3 shades lighter than you skin tone for best coverage. Dab gently with your fingertips and don’t worry about blending all the way – the foundation will even it out.
2. Choose the right foundation. For an even, natural finish, I recommend using a damp sponge to apply a powder formula, then finish off with a brush of loose powder.  The key here is to remember that you are not trying to cover every single last freckle – doing so will make your make-up look caked on and unnatural.  

3. Apply make-up that highlights other features. If you’d like to draw attention away from your freckles, try exemplifying your best features—if you want your eyes to shine, try a dramatic eye shadow look; if you want a pop of color, try a bold lip.

Make sure you are always wearing SPF, whether or not you have freckles! And no matter what you do, remember that you will always look your best when you’re comfortable in your own skin. Instead of covering up your freckles, why not celebrate them? :)

Would you cover up your freckles? Share your thoughts in the comments below.

<3 Mish”

- Michelle Phan's Beauty Blog, http://michellephan.com/blog/post/ask-michelle-how-can-i-cover-freckles

Michelle Phan uses direct address in her blog to create synthetic personalisation between herself and her 'subbies', so that the audience feel comfortable reading her beauty advice and taking it into consideration. If they trust her, they will come back and keep trying out her different tips. To help build this relationship between herself and her readers, Phan also uses semi-informal language and contractions such as 'don't' and 'you're'. As well as this, she coins the word 'subbies', short for subscribers. This coining has a similar effect as celebrities naming their fan-base – it creates a feeling of identification and belonging between readers, so that they feel they are a special part of something big, like a team. This sense of inclusion is also felt when she asks readers to 'Share [their] thoughts in the comments below'.

At the beginning of this blog post, Michelle Phan addresses 'everyone'. As with the direct address and coined word, this helps to build a relationship between not only her a her readers, but also between readers. It helps to provide a sense of community within the website.

Because this is an online blog, Phan is able to use web links to endorse other pages on her site. This creates more traffic for her blog, and allows readers to navigate easily around the blog, finding the information they want quickly.

Phan's blog is centred around giving make-up and beauty advise to young girls, and for ease of reading she consistently numbers or bullet points her step by step guides. The clearly numbered steps on this particular page makes it easy for readers to dive in and out or refer back to a particular step while applying or choosing make-up.

The blog is signed off by '<3 Mish', adding yet another layer of intimacy with both the use of a nickname and non-standard punctuation in the form of an emoticon heart '<3'. This is replicated with the use of a smiling emoticon after the rhetorical question 'Why not celebrate them?' while the question is there to create discussion between her subscribers and perhaps even make them feel guilty for wanting to rid themselves of their freckles, the smiling face makes it seem warm, friendly and caring. There is a sense that Phan is asking because she cares and really does think freckles are 'beautiful'.

Within the post, Michelle uses facts to gain her readers' trust and respect. Her use of scientific vocabulary like 'melanin', 'genetic' and 'heavy deposit', make her sound knowledgeable about freckle and their cause, and so make readers more likely to read on and looked at her tips for covering them. This low-frequency vocabulary is maintained throughout the post, with words like 'exemplifying', though Phan mixes it with high-frequency, so as not to intimidate readers or alienate potential subscribers to her YouTube channel.

The use of exclamation marks within the blog go a long way in making Phan seem excited and enthusiastic about her work with make-up and make-up lovers, and make the post seem fun as well as mildly educational.

Often, Phan also uses dashes instead of colons, as with 'try exemplifying your best features – if you...' This choice of punctuation makes the post seem more casual and snappy. The use of a colon may have made the blog seem too formal for the target audience of young teenage girls interested in broadening their knowledge of make-up.

Her use of ellipses after 'try these steps...' shows her reluctance to tell her readers how to cover up freckles, which she describes with the positive adjectives 'unique and beautiful'. She also uses a variety of sentence types in order to keep the blog post flowing and sounding as though it were a spoken piece, so that readers feel they are conversing with her.

Try to Praise the Mutilated World

“Try to praise the mutilated world.
Remember June's long days,
and wild strawberries, drops of wine, the dew.
The nettles that methodically overgrow
the abandoned homesteads of exiles.
You must praise the mutilated world.
You watched the stylish yachts and ships;
one of them had a long trip ahead of it,
while salty oblivion awaited others.
You've seen the refugees heading nowhere,
you've heard the executioners sing joyfully.
You should praise the mutilated world.
Remember the moments when we were together
in a white room and the curtain fluttered.
Return in thought to the concert where music flared.
You gathered acorns in the park in autumn
and leaves eddied over the earth's scars.
Praise the mutilated world
and the grey feather a thrush lost,
and the gentle light that strays and vanishes
and returns.” - Adam Zagajewski, Try to Praise the Mutilated World

This poem by Adam Zagajewski is about finding beauty in a world that isn't always beautiful. It has been written in the first person plural and with reference to previous shared events ('Return in thought to the concert where music flared'), so that 'we' are as much a part of the text as the voice is. This creates the synthetic personalisation that is needed when looking at a text so full of emotion.

   Throughout the poem the tone changes from hopeful, to demanding, to authoritative and we see this in the slight changes in the repetition of 'praise the mutilated world.' First we are asked to 'Try,' and then later we are told we 'must,' and then in an almost relenting way we are told we 'should' praise the mutilated world.
   Though at first the poem might seem grave or solemn, the negatives are brought back to neutrality, even optimism, by the contrasting positives. Where Zagajewski uses the verb 'vanishes' he counteracts it with the verb 'returns'. The same is true of the title – something as unpleasant as a 'mutilated world' is said to be something worthy of 'praise.' The whole piece is a mix of opposite lexical sets, one upbeat (stylish, joyfully, praise), one more downbeat (nettles, exiles, executioners).
   The writer also uses asyndentic listing – 'strawberries, drops of wine, the dew,' - so that there is no sense of these good things coming to an end. There is an implication that the list could in fact go on and that these beautiful things could out-weigh the macabre.

   Zagajewski personifies the earth by talking about its 'scars' and this is a clever way of making you see that the world is not unlike you or I. As humans are a mix of good and bad, so is the earth. It's scars are proof of its imperfection or 'mutilation' but also of its vulnerability.

   When we are told to 'remember the moments when we were together in a white room and the curtain fluttered,' there is a conscious feeling of peace and intimacy, the likes of which had been previously taken by Zagajewski's talk of 'salty oblivion,' 'refugees heading nowhere,' and 'the executioners singing joyfully.' The connotations that come with the colour white are positive and calm and reduce the stress created by the previous powerful imagery.

  The fact that 'leaves eddied over the earth's scars,' gives the impression that while bad things happen, life moves on. The same impression is given with the loss of a thrush's 'grey feathers'; the bird is growing and changing, shifting from its youth into its the future.

  This poem helps us to look at the world in a more hopeful way, rather than seeing a few nasty situations and writing off an entire planet. Though the 'gentle light' may disappear from time to time, it will always return.

Armstrong and Miller Video

In the first video, Armstrong and Miller use a register that juxtaposes the scene in which their sketch is set, in order to create a situation that the audience will find amusing. While the scene takes place on D-Day, during world war two, the characters played by Armstrong and Miller use modern colloquial language to communicate, a form usually associated with the sociolect used by urban teenagers. Within this colloquial lexis are slang words like ‘blud’, ‘aks’ and ‘ain’t’. This contrast is what generates the humour upon which the sketch is based.

   The use of non-standard grammar throughout their discourse, such as, ‘I love the seaside, isn’t it,’ and ‘If they do has donkey rides,’ is to reinforce the audiences awareness that the register they are using is not formal, the one you would perhaps expect to hear because of the connotations that come with seeing black and white films. They also use fillers from the colloquial register – things like, ‘like,’ and ‘right’– and a high frequency vocabulary of commonly used words. Back channel agreement is also used throughout the piece (‘yeah’ and ‘mmm’) to show that they are listening to each other and responding positively. The repetition of ‘isn’t it?’ is their way of receiving this positive feedback.

   At one point the simile, ‘Gonna put on so much vinegar that my lips turn all blue and I look like my nan did when her neck stopped working,’ is used. This is quite an extreme simile and has been written this way for the sake of humour. The fact that these characters can talk like this with each other shows a certain amount of comfort and familiarity, traits often common with informal pieces or interactions.

  

Alternative Register

Alas!...I Have Acted Wrongly Once More

Indeed, certainly, yes, quite, indubitably,

Indeed, certainly, yes, quite, indubitably, truly

 

I concede that I may have acted wrongly once more,

I successfully synthesised your believe that the relationship you and I are currently maintaining exceeds benevolence,
Oh darling,

It may appear to be mere romantic attraction,

However that does not mean that my actions are in any way sincere,

Because losing control of all my emotional faculties,

Well, that is remarkably routine of me,
Oh darling, darling

[CHORUS:]
Alas!...I have acted wrongly once more,
I trifled with your hearty affection, and became a victim of this labyrinthine enterprise,
Oh darling, darling,
Alas!...You believe that I have fallen madly in love with your charms,
That I am dispatched from the heavens,
But you see, I am not so very irreproachable

You see my difficulty is as follows:
I am engrossed in my own fantasy land,
Anxious to believe that righteous warriors were not simple figments of my own imagination,
I shed solemn tears, surveying the diurnal course of the day,
Can you not see that I am a fool in so many ways?
Losing control of all my emotional faculties,

Well, that is remarkably routine of me,
Darling, oh

[Repeat CHORUS]

Indeed, certainly, yes, quite, indubitably,

Indeed, certainly, yes, quite, indubitably, truly

Alas!... I trifled with your hearty affection once more,
Became a victim of this labyrinthine enterprise, oh darling
Alas!...You believe I am dispatched from the heavens,
But you see, I am not so very irreproachable

Recipe for a Josie

Recipe for a Josie

NOT SUITABLE FOR VEGETARIANS

Ingredients:

- A generous dollop of bookwormishness

- Three table spoons of growth hormone

- A healthy appetite for Ikea meatballs (as well as forty frozen Ikea meatballs)

- 2 large eggs

- 1 enormous jar of Nutella

- A dash of social awkwardness

- Ground black pepper

- Black eye liner

- 100 goosebumps

- 2 splashes of gormlessness

- Nerdy qualities

- A squirt of happiness

- Friends and family

- Slight Twitter addiction

- Love of music

- Denim

- Large glasses

 

Preparation Method:

1. Before starting, ensure the oven is at a low heat. Anything higher than 20 degrees Celsius will cause your Josie to become spoiled and lumpy. Leave to preheat. If you are cooking Josie on the hob, DO NOT bring to the boil.
2. In a very large mixing bowl (anything taller than 5ft 11” will do)- mix together the Nutella and all of the Ikea meatballs.
3. Once the meatballs have been evenly distributed throughout the chocolate spread, add the eggs. If you want the Josie you are baking to be especially annoyed, add another egg to make her even more eggy.
4. Once the mixture starts to look smooth, add all of the growth hormone and social awkwardness. If you're hoping to make a younger version of Josie, now is the time to add a sprinkle of painfully-shy-salt.
5. If the mixture tastes a little bland at this point, add a teaspoon of pepper. It should taste a little fiery and have a slight kick to it.
6. Fold the bookwormishness and slight Twitter addiction into the mixture carefully.
7. Love of music should be added at this stage. Toss in as many bands/artists as you like. Your Josie isn't fussy, so long as there's no heavy metal.
8. For authenticity, add the goosebumps. Josies should be terrified of everything from ghost stories to horror films, no matter whether they are for children or not. If your Josie is not freaked out by Roald Dahl's The Witches, you have added too few goosebumps.
9. At this point your Josie may be looking fairly alert, so drop in the splashes of gormlessness. This is particularly important for when Josie is watching TV, as she must look soulless and have her mouth hanging open as though catching flies.
10. Beat together the mixture, adding nerdy qualities one teaspoon at a time until they are all used up.
11. Make sure your Josie is smiling by adding a squirt of happiness at this point.
12. Add friends and family and mix well. These are important as they are what will keep your Josie in one piece: without either of these things, she may start to crumble during cooking.
13. The consistency should now be doughy, so on a greaseproof surface, use a rolling pin to roll out the Josie. Make sure the mixture is still quite thick, since no Josie likes to be spread too thinly.
14. To guarantee your Josie will bake properly, before putting her in the oven remove all excess chunks of sportiness. The mixture should be free of any desire to partake in sporting activities of any kind – especially football.
15. Place on a large, greased baking tray and leave to bake for the number of years you desire. For added precision, be sure to take her out on the first of February, as this is the time of year your Josie will be the happiest – her birthday.
16. Remove from oven and leave to stand. If Josie is not given a cooling off period after a heated discussion, things can only go badly for one person. (You).
17. To decorate, ice on a sense of humour and outline the eyes of your Josie with black eye liner. No Josie is ever seen out in public without a flick of black at the outer corners of her eyes.
18. If you would like to dress the Josie, place an item of denim on her person (e.g. jacket, jeans, shorts) and a pair of large glasses on her nose. It is very important that they are pushed up to the top of her nose, and not perched on the end of it.

Recipes you may like to try
in the future...

Writer's Delight Josie
French Fancy Josie
Taste of the World Josie

The Ice Queen

"People hide their truest natures. I understood that; applauded it. What sort of world would it be if people bled all over sidewalks, if they wept under trees, smacked whomever they despised, kissed strangers, revealed themselves? Keep a cloak, that was fine, the thing to do; present a disguise, the outside you, the one you want people to believe." - Alice Hoffman, The Ice Queen

The Ice Queen is one of my favourite books, so I wanted to use something from that. I really like this particular extract because of the imagery and the use of rhetorical repetition to build up the sense of chaos that living without a ‘cloak’ would bring. I agree with the sentiment too – that we all act differently according to social etiquette and the rules enforced upon us that silently dictate how we must act if we wish to live in a civilized way. I think it would be really interesting to see peoples ‘truest natures’ at first (at least there'd be loads of stuff going on), but I don’t think it would be sustainable, and this passage makes you question how open you really are about yourself. It makes you wonder what really would happen if people acted on their every whim - kissed strangers, hurt enemies, 'revealed themselves'.
   It's kind of a sad extract, because the speaker admits you can never live without a 'disguise', but I like that it makes you feel something. The verbs within it aren't just sad though, they're passionate - 'kissed', 'smacked', 'wept'. I like that the actions being written about are extreme, because the ideas in the extract are also extreme. No one is as they seem.