Thursday, May 5, 2011

Project Reflections


Know Your Meme Video Project Reflection

            My group did our video project on the internet meme known as “Rick Rolling”.  Rick Rolling consists of providing a friend with a disguised link that sends the recipient unknowingly to Rick Astley’s video for “Never Gonna Give You Up”.  We decided to set our Know Your Meme in a classroom, where a teacher Rick Rolls her students, and then provides them with an explanation about rick rolling and some information about its history.
            The significance of this project was not so much in the content itself, but more so in the skills learned through utilizing video as a form of rhetoric.  Through this project, we became familiar with video editing, and all the aspects involved.  Not only did we have to provide a text, but we also had to bring together the elements of video and audio to achieve a final project that makes sense and is interesting to watch.  We learned what makes these types of videos quality and interesting by exploring the concepts of unity, juxtaposition, and the like, which ended up being the main points of the rubric.
As an English teacher, I plan to utilize the concepts of Juxtaposition, Unity, and layering, and continue to be mindful of them in all creative assignments, whether they be essays and papers, or future classroom assignments such as audio recording or video editing.

This West Chester Life Podcast Project Reflection
Link To Free Podcast Download
            My group did our podcast project on West Chester University’s Students for Sensible Drug Policy. We spoke to the vice president of the group, as well as an active member, and discussed what SSDP stands for, as well as some of the events that they have sponsored on campus.  This is a new group on campus, so we were able to talk to some of the founding members and tell a story about how the organization came to be, where it stands, and where it is going.
            The significance of this project, for me, lay in the process of learning how to interview.  I had never given an interview before, at least never given one that was meant to be listened to, and this was good practice.  The concept of “telling a story” was really stressed, and that’s what we were forced to do.  This project felt like a more comfortable version of the video project, since we worked on a lot of the same concepts, but only had to deal within the audio medium.
            I think that podcasting is going to be huge in the future, and it is effectively taking over radio.  I enjoyed working with audio much more than working with video, so I hope to make audio an option for my students in the future.  Also, doing the podcast gave me a better understanding of the direction of a conversation, so not only did it help with my interview skills, it also helped with any writing I do that includes dialogue.

Multi-Modal Assignment

            I used Garageband and iMovie to make my multi-modal assignment.  I used the text from a short story that I wrote earlier this semester, and combined it with the film that I took on the day that the short story was inspired by.  I recorded live guitar and my narration, and added nature sounds to the soundtrack.  The final product was something I am quite proud of.
            This is the only project that we worked on, on our own, without the help of a group, and I thought that it was a lot better.  I got to work on the project on my own time, without worrying if other members were doing their share of the work.  I got to make a product that was entirely my own, and since the rubric was general, I was able to work on things that I really cared about.  I already had this story written, but the multi-modal assignment gave me a different way to view it.
            I think, now that all the projects are over, that there should always be an option to work on your own.  Group projects work for some people, but not all.  I know that for me, I would have been more motivated to work on my own creative ideas rather than on those of others.  Also, it eliminates the almost definite probability that one group member will take the lead and do more work than the others.  The multi-modal assignment allowed us to use all of the things we learned, and utilize them in expressing our own abilities.

Friday, March 4, 2011

The Fleeting Thoughts of a Dreamer in the Woods with Friends


It’s 9:50 AM and the days I’ve been waiting trickle away into minutes. I bust out the door of Main Hall with a purpose, and reach for my phone to dial for James.  As expected, he doesn’t answer.  The night before, he claimed that he would be waking up early to go to the dining hall and score some fruit and bread to provide a little nourishment for our empty stomachs while we spend the day in exploration of a patch of nearby woods.  So, I figured he’s out and about in preparation.  The plan for the day?  There is no plan for the day.  No specific plan anyway.  Only the hope that our experiences open our eyes to a more vivid understanding of the world, decide upon what is and what should be, and to provide perspective to our desire.  We know our goals, though the events of the day are up in the air.  As I approach James’ residence hall, I feel my pocket vibrate.  I pull out my phone and open it.  Out of the speaker comes the familiar voice of my partner in crime,
“Hey man, sorry I’m just waking up now, let yourself in and I’ll leave the door open for you while I get ready.”
If this were anyone else, I might have felt the beginning signs of the anxieties that have plagued me for my whole life, the anxieties that I never really understood and are only starting to grasp along with my “coming of age” so to speak.  I’m historically a prompt person, and lateness to pre-planned events has always been a pet peeve of mine.  But knowing James as well as I do, I’m sure that his routine won’t take him more than three minutes.  Three and a half tops.  James dons his signature Doc Martin’s “Bouncing Sole” boots and his vintage unicorn pullover with a hood reminiscent of a praying monk.  He grabs his messenger bag and fills it with his essentials; a bag of craisins, and a blanket to make meditation on the cold damp forest floor a little more bearable.  James is ready.  I can see it in his eyes behind his thick rimmed Buddy Holly glasses that he’s as excited as I am.  Or perhaps I just see the slightly crazed appearance of a man who hasn’t consumed anything but water for a day and a half. 
This is the same appearance that I see when I look in the mirror.  We made the decision to forgo food and fast on water the day prior to our adventure.  Now when I say nothing but water, I mean nothing but water.  This might seem easy to some, but food was the least of our worries.  Everyone has a vice, and James and I are no exception.  If anything, we’re living examples of chemical dependence.  Whether it is the desire for my morning tea, or his morning coffee, the desire for his first cig of the day, or my afternoon hookah fix, not to mention our fairly consistent habits with other less-than-savory substances, these things make up a scaffold of our desires, every support of which we make ourselves acutely attuned through cessation.  Then suddenly, cessation ends.
            My legs feel slightly chilled as I trudge up and down the hilly landscape toward our destination.  It’s been a bitterly cold winter and it would be an utter disappointment not to take full advantage of the two-day Indian winter that random chance has blessed us with this fine February Friday.  I look to my feet and see the sneakers that I know won’t last long.  If you’ve never walked through the woods barefoot, you should really try.  You’d be surprised at the beating human feet can take.  Or perhaps my ancestor’s evolution brings me just a little closer to the hobbit.  I like that thought.  My ironic hipster cutoff jeans rest just over my knees, and I can’t help but notice the waist is a little tighter since I last wore them in the fall.  A button down flannel is the only barrier separating the never-ending West Chester wind from my torso.  On my back, I carry a bag with my essentials; water, meditation blanket, paper, and pen.  As I run the checklist through my head, I can’t help but notice a certain feeling of youthful wonder creeping through my body.  It’s 10:30, and euphoria is setting in.           
            James and I cross the damp, wooden bridge connecting the land on either side of the creek that acts as the border to the woods and search for our first forest home.  We start by following the trail.  Though as our minds wander, so do our feet, and soon enough we’re trudging through a mosaic of rotting leaves and underbrush.  We spot a promising fallen giant and upon further inspection, it looks like the perfect place to make camp.  James decides to wonder off, but I’m not finished here.  I’m a creature of comfort, and I feel reassurance from regularity, so this log strikes me as the perfect place to start exploring my thoughts.  I sit in half lotus position and begin taking in my surroundings.  The leaves coat the entire forest floor, creating natural pointillism.  Up close, individual fragments of tan and brown become a familiar gold sheen at a distance.  I close my eyes and hear the sound of gusts soaring through the jungle of lifeless trees and bushes, fallen logs and ancient stones.  I expand my earshot and hear birds coo high above the trees, and even higher the airplanes that are half hidden above the canopy.
            Though the forest is seemingly saturated by the smell of rotting plant matter, the potential for life is evident. I am not saddened by all of the decay, for our universe operates a system based on the beautiful transition of energy. With every rotting tree trunk, I see the possibility for a new tree to arise.  Somewhere, something is benefitting from the nutrition provided by this decomposing Goliath.  Sitting here in what most would consider wilderness, I feel a peculiar awareness for the ever-reaching arms of modern technology.  Though I sit on a rotting log above a sea of plants and animals, the sound of sirens, cars, busses, badly lubricated breaks, and an indistinguishable hum produced from who-knows-what, pollute the whispers of the creek not more than two minutes walk away.  This awareness prompts me to present the question, “Is it valuable to distance oneself from technology? Would this liberation lead to a greater wisdom for right thinking?”
            These last thoughts are interrupted by nature’s natural alarm system, rustling leaves and breaking sticks.  I turn around to see two figures walking toward me.  Both were high in stature, though the one on the left was slightly taller and skinnier.  The figure on the right was leaning forward and swinging his arms in a way similar to what my mind conceives of Sasquatch.  I knew immediately that the latter was James.  As they approach, it becomes clear that the other walker was,
“Ben!”
            “Hey man!  I’ve got my hoodie here, but I forgot the knife.  We don’t have anything to cut the sleeves off of this thing with.”
            “That’s alright, even better.”  I go on, “We’ll have to make some tools anyway if we want to put together a shelter.”
            “A shelter?” he asks.
            Ben doesn’t seem convinced that anything we construct today will keep us sufficiently dry.  The last month brought near two feet of snow that took its time to melt, providing the ground with daily doses of moisture during the day before freezing back up at night.  However, we decide that it would be a fun project anyway. We begin to toil away, searching our surroundings for anything that would make for building materials and move them into a pile near our fallen giant.  Ben and I work to put together a frame that at first looks promising, but after countless slips and cracks we conclude that the wood is too damn moist and rotten for us to make any reasonable shelter.
            “These logs don’t want to be our home!” I cry out.
            Ben considers our fallen shelter for a moment and supposes, “These logs can still be our home.  We just need to give up the idea we had for home before.  Then, anything will be comfortable.”
            “Like this log?”
            “Yeah, like this log.”
            “So we’re home?”
            “Yeah, we’re home.”
            I walk the twelve steps up the hill and sit back on the log carefully draped by my meditation blanket.  As I consider my conversation with Ben I realize the arbitrary, fluid nature with which individuals find meaning in words.  The word “home”, for example, strikes me with thoughts of a big brick house with red garage doors on a suburban street in Eastern Pennsylvania.  The word “home” probably means something dramatically different to say, a Tibetan refugee in Dharamsala, or even more dramatically different from say, a chimpanzee.  Every word in every language is the embodiment of a complex wealth of definitions, precepts and biases.  And even among cultures, there is always going to be a spectrum of these traits exhibited by its individuals.  My mind momentarily ponders the subject until Ben and I come to realize that we haven’t seen James in at least a half hour.  As if by divine command, we hear the nature alarm sound off again and upon turning our heads we spot the Sasquatch figure plodding over the ridge.
            While waiting for our friend, Ben and I stand around with our eyes glued to the uppermost branches of the forest’s trees, watching the breeze blow their twisted tips to and fro.  The way that the trees reacted to the wind, one could say that they were breathing.  Our thoughts were interrupted when James finally reached us,
            “We should move.  I want to walk around the woods more.  Maybe we can find a better home base.”
            I was hesitant at first, being that I had become so comfortable at our current position.  I already felt attached to our location.  We had left our mark on it.  There was the attempt at a shelter, and my meditation blanket was ever so comfortable.  But when considering my thoughts, I realized that I was being ridiculous.  Our shelter was nothing more than a pile of sticks and the blanket would be comfortable just about anywhere else in these woods.  I decide to say yes for a change, agree to move camp, and while I’m at it, I take off my shoes.
            The bottom of my feet felt an array of stimuli as I hiked aimlessly through the wood.  Crunchy, soft, dry, moist, sharp, smooth, my feet felt just about every adjective under the sun.  The discomfort was invigorating.  Along the walk we make jokes and engage in mindless wordplay.
            James jokes, “We should start telling people that we’re hicks, and that will give hicks a good name.”
            Eventually, we find a prime spot for camp.  Several trees had fallen in a way that provided coverage from behind and on both sides while leaving the landscape in front of us plainly visible.  I lay out my blanket, take a seat, cross my legs, sit tall, and place my hands on their respective knees while Ben and James pretend to be acrobats on the trees that compose our new home base.  Finally, I close my eyes and breathe deeply.  Breathing this forest air felt like the first breath after swimming the entire length of a pool. The crisp, pure air satisfies my lungs like the stagnant air of my apartment never could.
            My mind’s thoughts wander from my lungs south, toward my barren stomach.  I must say that my expectations for my fast were a little off the mark.  My original hope was that avoiding food and substance would help to diminish my physical desires.  Instead, I only feel more aware of my desires.  At first, this upsets me, but upon further contemplation I realize that this awareness is exactly what I was looking for.  Life is filled with desires, and these desires are the cause of my suffering.  That being said, I am not prepared to give up all the things that I desire in my life.  I like food, I like my computer, I like chemicals that make me feel good, I like sex, who doesn’t?  The point being, it couldn’t hurt to take some time to consider moderation. 
Despite all the desires that act to enhance our worldly suffering, I am consoled by the words of Jack Kerouac, “Though the flesh be bugged, the circumstances of existence are still pretty glorious.”  I don’t think that Kerouac is speaking solely of a literal “flesh”, but rather using the term as a hyponym representing all suffering.  Some may argue against the glories of life, though I would argue that all of the desires, passions, motivations, captivations, experiences, relationships, random encounters, one night stands, successes, failures, all of the moments that have the power to move you or rip you apart, good or bad, the very fact that one can feel so strongly about anything is evidence enough that existence is inherently valuable. 
The world is something We care about.  The “We” being all creatures, not just humans, beast and plant alike, along with all other life forms that we don’t have a name for yet, truly, the Earth and its children strive together.  We are all striving for the least restrictive environment in which no man or woman is ever denied or marginalized based on socially constructed factors such as economic class, race, or gender.  Nor should any human be marginalized according to biological factors such as sex or sexual orientation. 
A truly just society is exempt from such groupings (including those of religious affiliation).  Religion allows a few top dogs to make decisions for the masses without need for logical substantiation.  I think Ayn Rand put it best in her famous interview with Phil Donahue when she said, “(mysticism) gives man permission to function irrationally, to accept something above and outside the power of their reason.” She goes on, “…it is evil to place your emotions, your desire above the evidence of what your mind knows.”  It isn’t wrong to denounce religion if the religion in question is being used to retard the progress of human rights.  The just society must have no tolerance for intolerance, even if the intolerance is promoted by a “loving god”.  And in all major world religions (with the exception of Buddhism), the holy scriptures claim salvation for the “righteous”, and damnation to the rest.  No such tenant can be substantiated in a just society because at its core, it breeds a false dichotomy that marginalizes a population.
This same concept is true for nationalism.  Once one gets caught up in the idea that America is the best country in the world and we need to defend our freedom from the socialists that are trying to take it away, we are fostering a system that resists change toward social progress.  Making such a claim arrogant.  It’s like saying “we are the best, fuck the rest”.  Only in a nationless society, that is, a society in which small communities work in cooperation and are citizens of the Earth, can equality be truly attained.  Think back before the days of Rudyard Kipling.  One must remember that the concept of race was unheard of before Columbus landed in the Americas.  And then, look what happened when “race” was accepted as a biological standard in the United States.  Slavery.  No more race, no more nationality, no more religion, stop the labeling of minority groups.  It is of no use, for the Earth and its children strive together.
            I begin to wrap up the day by wrapping up my blanket.  Crawling up and over the ridge behind me, I see Ben and James still engaging in acrobatics, climbing arm-thick trees as high as they can until the trunk gives way and arcs, lowering them back to the ground.
            “Are you guys ready?” I ask.
They are. We gather our things and begin the journey home. The warm sunrays of the afternoon are long gone, and the breeze carries a chill.  Exhausted, I feel as though things are finally winding down.  My mind is operating with some semblance of normalcy while the abstract, free associative thought that earlier beset my mind lessened and lessened.  Today offered me a menagerie of mundane experiences that painted my mind with complex musings, emotions, and realizations.  I didn’t undergo any major changes in my perspective, I only unfogged the glasses through which I already view the world.  Finally, upon reaching my apartment I slip into my door and under my covers, content.

Sunday, February 6, 2011

Multiple Choice Test Question: Murray Chapter 3

 Which of these IS NOT one of Murray's five values of non-discursive writing?

A. Will-to-Image
B. Will-to-Improvise
C. Will-to-Surprise
D. Will-to-Integrate

Answer: C

Know Your Meme Assessment: "O RLY?"


Perspective: 18 of 20
The shots used in the O RLY video were fairly simple, though purposeful.  There was not much variation when the camera was focused on the narrator.  It was mostly straight forward shots, although that makes sense for the genre since Know Your Meme could be considered documentary satire.  That being said, the simplicity is useful and effective.

Juxtaposition: 18 of 20
The juxtaposition of this Know Your Meme was very good.  They showed many different variations of the "O RLY" owl and an array of spinoffs.  I loved how they legitimized the popularity of the O RLY owl by Google searching "O RLY" and showing the results.  The scenes were arranged in a logical sequence that gave a "big picture" understanding of the topic.

Layering: 16 of 20
The layering was not extremely impressive.  I did not catch much of anything new beyond my first viewing.  The video was very straightforward in that most of the graphics were pictures of the same owl and a short phrase beneath.  Being that the meme is a photograph, I'm not sure how much multimedia material is available that could have spiced up the video.  Though, I'd really have liked for them to come up with something creative to compensate.

Unity: 17 of 20
The use of Perspective, Juxtaposition, and Layering were not very creative, though they were informative and fitting to the genre.  The video was very discursive, and had smooth transitions.  It presents a lot of information in a short period of time, which seemed to be one of its strong points, there weren't any pointless elements.  The O RLY Know Your Meme used a lot of repetition.  If anything, my criticism is that there was too much repetition, to the point of near boring.

Total: 69/80

Thursday, January 27, 2011

The State of the Union 2011



What’s more interesting than the first thirty minutes of the president’s State of the Union speech are the faces staring at him from the crowd. 

Caricatures stare from around the room.  Biden, a cartoon of approval with an earphone blaring in his ear, “Clap now!”, or “Wake Up!”  Boehner, a picture of disapproval, with a similar headphone demanding, “Sourpuss face”, “Stare deep into his soul”, or “Crack a sarcastic smile”. 

Around the room, we spot the usual suspects.  Though in a refreshing change of pace, we see a chamber not divided by the usual left and right, but a mixed audience.  Most unusual of all, John Kerry sharing an armrest with John McCain.  One cannot help but wonder if we would witness such an “act” of bipartisanship had such a tragic event not occurred two weeks ago in Tucson.  For what are these politicians if not actors?  Alright, alright.  Enough meaningless speculation, let’s get into the bulk of this thing.

After at least a half hour of speaking in generalities and people pleasing, the president admits that new world powers such as India and China have stepped up to the plate in regards to education reform, and we are long overdue to not only match, but surpass these new standards.

“That responsibility begins not in our classrooms, but in our homes and communities.  It’s family that first instills the love of learning in a child.  Only parents can make sure the TV is turned off and homework gets done.… we know what’s possible from our children when reform isn’t just a top-down mandate, but the work of local teachers and principals, school boards and communities.”

The president scores some points by addressing the reality of the situation, that our stagnant education system lacks restoration in both the government, and the household.  Quality educators who teach upper-middle class students are hailed as heroic, while teachers OF THE SAME CALIBER that teach in lower income areas are at risk of losing their jobs.  Stop blaming quality teachers for being unable to motivate those who come from households where the general stance is “get those silly thoughts out of your head and get a job to support your family.”

“Let’s also remember that after parents, the biggest impact on a child’s success comes from the man or woman at the front of the classroom.  In South Korea, teachers are known as “nation builders.”  Here in America, it’s time we treated the people who educate our children with the same level of respect.  We want to reward good teachers and stop making excuses for bad ones.”

I can’t help but feel like the president is throwing educators a bone by claiming we are “nation builders”, while following up with a Michelle Rhee-esque bone thrown to the standardized test heavy movements plaguing American education today.  I was originally filled with hope in the president’s ideas of reform, though now I am somewhat wary.  If we as Americans have any chance in topping the curve of education (as we have in our not so distant past), we must eradicate the authoritarian, work-force minded training ground ideals that the public school systems have clung to so strongly.  These ideals might have been useful in the days of Bethlehem Steel, but we are no longer an industrial economy.  Nowadays, a high school senior can’t take a piss without first asking three people.  Do not disrespect students with more testing. Recognize that intelligence is ambiguous, wide-ranging, and surely not based solely on how one scores on a multiple-choice examination.

And while on the topic of respecting students, I’ll have to respond to Obama’s claim:

“I call on all our college campuses to open their doors to our military recruiters and ROTC.  It is time to leave behind the divisive battles of the past.  It is time to move forward as one nation.”

Fuck that noise!

I’m sick of all the “support our troops” propaganda that we hear on a day-to-day basis.  Sure, I support our troops as far as not wanting them to die.  This is basic compassion, and it’s a feeling that I extend to everyone, not something that I reserve for Americans.  At some point we need to realize that 90% of the military action our country takes is not “defending our liberty”, it is the product of special interest.

On that note, I find it interesting how anyone finds a (now) >$1 Trillion war is justifiable and worthy of vindication, while a budget neutral healthcare bill that provides affordable insurance to millions, and prevents insurance companies from turning down patients with preexisting conditions is a SOCIALIST TAKEOVER.

Call it un-American, I’m okay with that.  “Patriotism” in its present meaning isn’t something I’d want to be labeled anyway.  I DON’T WANT TO SEE RECRUITERS HERE ON MY CAMPUS.

On a lighter note, I couldn’t help but feel slightly uplifted and nostalgic when the president mentioned Biden’s hometown of Scranton.  Memories of my visits to Steamtown mall, playing concerts at Underwood Skate Park, and day-tripping for a pie of Scranton’s signature pseudo-sicilian pizza (mysteriously topped with American Cheese) rushed to the forefront of my mind.

Conclusion?

The president’s speech writer did a pretty fantastic job writing the least inflammatory, least piercing, least provoking piece of oration that I have come across in recent memory.  That being said, I hope that this new wave of civility can lead to a more bipartisan congress.  Or for that matter, a non-partisan congress.  For partisanship is at its core, an illogical sentiment.  How on Earth could most of American’s fall under two concrete political categories?  Are we that boring?  Are we that strongly decided, that stubborn?  So stubborn that none are willing to reach across party lines to work for a better future?  I sincerely hope that our congresswo/men on both sides of the aisle find the courage to break the archaic habits of the past, and can find it in their hearts to represent the people.  Not the party, not the special interest groups, the PEOPLE.

About Me



My name is Cody Miller, and I'm an English Education major at West Chester University of Pennsylvania.  I attended Whitehall High School, a middle size suburban high school located in the heart of Pennsylvania's Lehigh Valley, right outside of Allentown.  I have no degrees or certifications to speak of, no wife, no kids, no responsibilities besides waking up and going to class in the morning.  And these are the same reasons why I am honest and upfront, and have no reason to hide how I really feel about a topic.  So here it is:

I am passionately irreligious, vehemently liberal, non-patriotic, non-capitalist, though not quite socialist.  I believe civil and human rights trump religion and tradition EVERY TIME.  I have no tolerance for intolerance, especially when law or scripture substantiates the intolerance.  I believe that victimless crimes aren’t crimes.  I am a realist, though a moralist as well as a hopeful idealist.

This blog is a place for me to share my opinions.  That being said, I’d love to hear any sort of input.  I embrace debate and will gladly respond to anyone who cares to post a thoughtful, respectful response to any of my entries.  Thank you for getting this far everyone!  I look forward to hearing from you in the future.