Update 1

http://www.cas.unt.edu/~anne/lit_writing/thesis.html

so I was researching just exactly WHAT a good thesis statement was and I came across this site above. ( haha, I rhymed!)

So I originally had this totally awesome idea to write a thesis paper on the overbearing presence of
DEUS EX MACHINA in TARTUFFE.

I wanted to discuss the culture of the time and why it was so prominant in the play, as well as the many instances where it was present.

DEUS EX MACHINA-  An unexpected power or event saving a hopeless situation, esp. as a plot device in a play or novel.

I planned on discussing the nature of D.E.M. in Molier's play...that is, until I found this little fact:

There were two endings to Tartuffe:

one, being the liar revealed, where the "religous man" that Tartuffe claims to be--- reveals his fruad but wins anyway. This was thoguht to be a snub of the churhc and was imediatly censured by teh court and pope: nearly having Molier excommunicated!

Therefore in 1669 (the version we all know and love today) we see an end where the King comes in and saves the day! This not only mullified the treason talk but wrapped a bow on the play.

It was not an artistic descision, but a "please don't kill me" peace treaty.

as I found that very interesting: I shall discuss that....basically....yes.........hmmm.......... let's get started! I'm writing my essay on Google docs---- so if you want, meet me there and I'll get writing!

Sick Study and Schedueling. (ya it's spelled wrong. sorry. )

PG=100

Ya.
I didn't post yesterday.

But I'm posting alot today.

So as you may have guessed----- I'm sick.
Because I have the immune system of a flea.

But that shall not stop me!!!!!!!!!!!!! (mentally that is, physically I'm pretty put out. XP).


TODAY'S SCHEDUEL:


9:00-10:00 work on page 1 of Thesis paper. (step 1. Discover a better thesis topic than Deus Ex Machina. Step 2. Write better).

10:00-10:15 medicine break and streching.

10:15-11:15 Work on math for SAT

11:15-11:30 Tea time!

11:30-12:30 History report on Uncle Tom's Cabin

12: 30-12:45 SAT vocab quiz in the mirror

12: 45- 1: 45 Thesis paper page 2.

1:45- 2:00 Figure out how to use the toaster properly and make more tea.

2:00-3:00  Work on editing The True Death Of Batman (chapters 19-21) for publication

3:00-4:00 Thesis paper page 3.

4:00- 4: 15 Play with cats to just clear the "stare at the screen" zombie face

4:15- 5:15 Thesis paper page 4.

5:15-5:30 attempt to do some exercise, give up and cry on the floor.

5:30-6:30 Thesis paper page 5 and Works Cited.

6:30-7:30 eat food.

7:30-8:30 email all designated people. cry some more. sleep.

BAM!

Schedueling godess.

Is there money in scheduel making? I hope so!

Anyway-- I'll give an update at 11:30 on my process.
Ta-ta!


-Hayley

So my blog fo rthe day and other stuff you should totally read

PG=100

So I did a lot of art, but little on the film.

In class today Hannah and I finished the shot sheet and scheduling! (SO HAPPY)--- filming afterschool tomorrow.

I got a few notes on the song: the ending is a bit too much. At least it is better to go over-board than leave people begging for you to try harder.

So I deleted 15 of my 35 tracks and I came up with this totally new AWESOME mix. (Sent it out the film group).

That at least took up like...30 minutes of my artsy fartsy slice of day time.

SO I planned on reading my Norton BUT life got in the way----- and I saw my calendar and nearly wet my pants because I realized:

SHIZ IT IS THE 15th!!!!

my book comes out May 31st, and the edits are due on the 25th!!!!!

I am only on Chapter 19 of editing out of my 38 chapter book! (for those who suck at math, I'm only half way done).

SO after crying for 3 unnecessary minutes: I started to edit.

I don't know why Blogger isn’t letting me upload any screenshots--- but basically me and my editor have been doing this process of color key coding a printed copy and a typed copy.

This is our cute little key:

 

 

*All words/sentences highlighted in blue are sentences that I changed around to make your meaning clearer. Almost anything highlighted in blue is merely a suggestion of how I think something should be worded/a word I thought should be changed. If you'd like to change the original sentence around by yourself (or already have), or choose to keep it as it was, go right ahead. I merely changed those things because they confused me as a reader.

*Anything underlined and purple will have another underlined partner nearby, which will also be in purple. These words are the same word that are too close together and can be changed. It's up to you to change it to whatever you think would fit there.

*Anything underlined and green with also have a green underlined buddy close by. These are words or phrases that are either redundant or don't work together in a sentence. Choose whichever of these words/phrases you'd like.

*Anything highlighted in pink is anything I think you can take out, but I also edited for grammar in case you wanted to keep it in.

*Anything that I thought needed a better transition into the next idea is in between two slashed highlighted in orange. The two sentences that I think need to flow better are in those slashes (not including the one transition I mentioned earlier)

 

So I just wanted to share a bit on what I've been doing and what I shall be doing:

A little background on what I'm talking about:

In November I entered a Novel Writing Contest and I won first place! So they (create a space, Amazon and the tri-state area of Barnes and Nobles) are publishing my book!

A little about the book: (I don't have an official blurb yet, but here is my best shot at a short summary).

The book is based on the true and sad event of the Aurora Colorado Batman Movie Shooting-- where 12 people were killed by gunman James Holmes.

The book is "written" (we follow the POV) of 8 year old, Tommy Jull who lost his sister in the shootings. He deals with his grief by dressing up in the home-made batman costume his sister made for him and refuses to take it off... This catches the eyes of the media and he soon becomes a national figure of hope. He later convinces himself that he IS batman, and runs away from home with his trusty side-kick USELESS: THE BIG MEAN CAT to seek revenge on the man he believes is James Holmes.

(There actually was an article about a man also named James Holmes who lives in the town next to Aurora: this is the event my book is talking about). Of course, this is all "historical Fiction" because it is inspired by true events.

I hope that when my book comes out I can pay homage to those who died at the shootings and give hope to their families and anyone who reads it.

Ideally, I will be giving 30% of my profits to the victim's families--- but it is all still in the works.

Anyway: this is the first chapter of my book!!!

 

 

CHAPTER ONE:

No one ever really liked Ms. Lufberry. I guess that's why no one really cared that she died. She had been that old lady your mother made you say "hello" to every Sunday at church. She’d never say hello back, of course. That would be the nice thing to do, and if Ms. Lufberry was one thing, it certainly wasn't nice. She had no one, except her old cat “Useless.” And no, I’m not being mean. That was his name, and that’s what he was. He sat around and left fur everywhere. He would bite at everyone, even Ms. Lufberry. I don’t blame the old cat though; if I had fangs, I would bite her like a vampire too.  But mean cats and vampires wouldn’t be the death of her. It was the movies.

Movies are…awesome. My sister and I would go see them every Friday night at The Photoplay (that being the name of our local theater). We have one movie theater in our town. It’s a drive-in movie theater, and you have to sit out in a car, like you would have if you were born in the 50’s, with the radio clipped onto the window, a snack shack on the side of the road. That’s all anyone can afford out here in Flosh, Colorado.

Flosh. I know you’re probably not familiar with the town. Not many people are. On road maps we kind of look like a print smudge, but if you get out your handy-dandy microscope you’ll see that there is a town called Flosh in Colorado. We are next to Fort Collins. Everyone here is content with our little hum-drum life. Except my sister that is. It was like we were in Brigadoon, you know that movie with Gene Kelly and Cyd Charrise? You probably don’t. We’re like the town that doesn’t exist. We only know what we can know, being locked out from the real world. And when I say the real world, I mean the modern world. In a way, I’d say we’re like the Amish. We don’t use technology much. Not that we’re opposed to it. We just don’t really understand it, like it’s all in some foreign language. Flosh is a town of simple people. We don’t aspire to be much, and we don’t really leave town at all. We stay here forever, like we’re trapped. Some people enjoy our small town; most people don’t notice that there is life outside of Flosh.

My sister was not one of those people. She was one of those people who had eyes as wide as the moon. She said she was going to be a silver screen actress. I was told the term isn’t used anymore, but it was her favorite thing to say. Every time she’d meet someone knew she would say. “Hi, my name’s Cynthia Jull and I’m an up-and-coming silver screen actress.” She looked like an actress. She would always watch what she ate, brushed her hair ten hundred times a day (I’d listen through the wall in my bedroom and hear her counting how many brushstrokes each night). She never had bad skin, not a single blemish. But best of all…she had this great smile. She would never stop smiling. Even when she fought with mom and dad, she’d smile a bit. Maybe she couldn’t help herself, but her face would tense into a smile. I thought it was lovely. 

She didn’t belong here, with the rest of us Flosh townies. She was novel. An idea of its own. Flosh isn’t known for a lot of things, and “fresh and new” was a word that would never be used to describe it. Cynthia was just different. I’m not saying that different is bad, but Cynthia was too different. Not many people liked that.

It’s odd, but I always liked Cynthia, even if she was different. I think it was because she was my older sister. I know, siblings shouldn’t like each other. But it is a small world, especially here in Colorado. So we did everything together. For some time, we even shared a bed. We usually agreed on most things. Now that I come to think of it, we never fought. Okay, that’s a lie. All people fight. So let me try this again: we rarely fought. I can recall fighting once about who got to sit shotgun. I would always call it first, but she would yell “Rosa Parks!” and run to the seat and refuse to move. We also fought about who got to use the TV remote, even though we both liked the same shows.

I liked our town. She did not. She made it very clear that “hick towns like Flosh are not where aspiring actresses should be!” She was right. She was always right, except for when she was wrong. And when she was wrong, she’d twist it until she was right again. We’d always see movies together, every Friday night. I already said that, I know. But it’s important.

We’d go to see a movie every Friday night since we got the theatre here five years ago. Except the last Friday night.

Batman was huge here in Flosh. Everywhere you’d go, it was like our town symbol or something. T-shirts, headbands, scarves, coffee mugs. One year, as a prank, a few senior kids put a huge banner over our town border sign. Instead of reading “Welcome to Flosh,” it read “Welcome to Gotham City.” My sister loved Batman. I love Batman, but not nearly as much as my sister did. So when our town got word that “The Dark Knight Rises” was coming to a theatre only two towns away, everyone jumped at the chance to buy tickets. My sister was first in line. She always smiled, but every time she talked about Batman her smile just lit up like a million fireflies in her mouth.

Of course, with everyone and their grandmother going to see the movie, there was a limited supply of tickets. My sister stayed out standing in line for days until she got her ticket for the midnight premiere. She got a ticket. One singular ticket. It almost broke my heart, not being able to see the movie with her. We bonded over Batman. It was our thing. It was our town’s thing. Batman brought us all together. But she was the one with the gleam in her eye and the single ticket.

Now this is where Ms. Lufberry comes in (don’t think that I forgot now). My sister was a charmer, as all actresses are. If she could get away with cheating on her math final, she could certainty figure out a way to find someone to drive her into the town showing “The Dark Knight Rises” Mom and Dad were working double shifts so they couldn’t take her. She couldn’t drive just yet. She was in that stage between driver’s education and practicing in the school parking lot. So naturally she needed a ride. She posted a help wanted ad on the church door saying “DRIVER NEEDED. TRIP THERE AND BACK TO THE BATMAN MOVIE. GAS MONEY AND ALL OTHER EXPENSES CONVERED.” 

Ms. Lufberry was not religious, but she always was at church. I don’t know what drew her into helping my sister. Maybe she finally went senile and her old cold heart had begun to melt. Maybe it was the fact that she needed the money.  But most likely, she just wanted to get out of town for the evening. Not a lot of people know this, but Ms. Lufberry was quite the Batman fan, but not nearly at the caliber that my sister was. My sister was a fanatic. A mega fan. The one that waits in line, dressed up as Catwoman--the Michelle Phifer version, of course.

I remember her walking around town that Thursday night, refusing to take off her costume. “I’m getting into character!” I told her that when she comes back she has to tell me every last detail, and she pinky promised that we’d go see it together before it came out on DVD.

My sister and Ms. Lufberry left Thursday night, and set out for two towns over to see the movie. They waited on line for hours with tons of other super fans, just waiting like a clock to strike until the theatre doors opened.

Then 12:20 came. I can picture the doors opening, and everyone rushing in to get a seat. Knowing my sister, she probably sat dead center in the front, just to be sure not to miss out on any of the action. 12:24 were coming attractions, 12:28 were the dancing frogs that warned everyone against chewing popcorn too loudly and using cell phones during the movie. My sister shut hers off before the movie ever started. She was just that kind of person. Ms. Lufberry sat next to her. I don’t know if Ms. Lufberry ever smiled, but I can picture them just beaming as the movie began at 12:29.

12:30 the back door opened and bullets flying everywhere as a man shot into the audience.

I didn’t get the news until Friday mourning when my sister never came home with Ms. Lufberry.

The police told us that she and Ms. Lufberry were one of the first to be shot at, due to them being in the front row. The funeral is today, but I feel like it started hours ago. Only six people from our town were able to get tickets for that showing. Four of them were severely injured, but the only two that died from Flosh were Ms. Lufberry and my sister.

I didn’t take the news very well. No one takes news like that well. My sister, my best friend, is dead. It’s something I shouldn’t have to deal with until I’m at least 30.  I wasn’t sad. I wasn’t anything I should have been.

I was angry.

I was angry because I know, I just know, that if I had been there with my sister nothing would have happened. I know it deep down in my gut that if I was there to protect her, she would have come home that Friday evening and she would have told me about how wonderful the movie was, and how Ms. Lufberry’s car smelled of old lady. She would’ve told me that Anne Hathaway made a great Catwoman and reminded me just how much I looked like Christian Bale, even though I look nothing like him.

She would tell me that it was the best night of her life, and that Aurora Colorado was exciting and vibrant. She would get out her Michelle Phifer Cat Woman Jumpsuit and she would help me into my home-made Batman outfit, the original Adam West version, and we would go outside at night and shine our Bat signal flashlights we got for free at Old Navy and wave them around in the sky like the two idiots we were.

I would still have a sister.

It wasn’t fair that she was taken just because she liked the Batman films. It wasn’t fair and everyone knew it.

I forgot everything in that moment as I tried to remember. Remember how to speak, remember how to breathe. My mind went numb and my hands were limp as they covered my face and held onto my scream as I yelled into my fingerprints. All I could think about, all I kept asking myself now was the same question, over and over again.

“Batman is supposed to be good. Batman is supposed to save people. Why didn’t he save my sister…. Why didn’t he save anyone…?”

Working on Playing God Score: SO INSPIRED

PG=100

So this is my blog for the day: (as you might have guessed already)

I'm SO excited to hear what the others have to say, I just emailed them my work.
SO in class today I got the note that the chorus was too "paramore" and not "Amy Weinhouse". I don't see Amy anywhere in my score--- nor did I want to, but I changed the chorus from a major scale to a minor and took it down a notch---
To me it sounds very safe and anti-climatic but I did as I was asked.

They also asked if they could fit in a second chorus at the end to really build up the ending: but they wanted new words.

So I was really uninspired with writing and nothing was coming to me---
so II'm going to be a total crack-head and say that it was something Divine that drew me to looking up Bible quotes on the internet that dealt with the subject of Power.

I hit the mother-load.
This is what I found:

Corinthians 4:20 - For the kingdom of God [is] not in word, but in power.

I'm head-over-heelw in love with this quote: to me it really speaks the spine of the characters in my play---- to me at least. 

So instead of a new chorus I put this in: 

LAYED 15 TIMES!
So it sounds TOTALLLY AWESOMEEEEE
I mixed into a helicopter receptor and a bass guitar riff to make the vocals sound awesome.
Then I found a sample of a crying baby in slow motion and I put that in--- and then "but dialed" a ton of people and put their answering machines (it's okay-- just generic ones) into the mix as well

This is HANDS DOWN the largest MP3 I've ever created...like 394K ?

Point is--- it sounds awesome, because I worked HARD on it. 
I Just sent it to the film group:
TEL MEH WHAT U THINK PEEOPLES!!!!>?!?!?!?
(and yes, I spelled all of the above wrong on purpose. XP)

Autobiographical Sketch

Monday Blog
PG=100

So I am applying to this intensive workshop in Virginia for Play/Song writing and they asked me to write an Autobiographical Essay. After pestering Ms.Aladren I belive I have a basic comprehension of what I needed to do. So after many trials of wording--- this is what I came up with. I need to submitt it by the end of the night so if anyone wants to comment feedback....ya...that would be AWESOME.

PROMPT: An autobiographical sketch that details your reasons for wanting to attend the Workshop and captures your identity, interests, and influences as a writer.

MY RESPONCE:

I would never strictly call myself beautiful. There are many imperfections that stand out on a face. It’s only human to notice the faults in the skin rather than focus on the flawless features of someone else, but that is only because as a race we are taciturn to others by nature. I’ve learn to pretend not to care, or maybe forget that it mattered: somewhere in between lying and being accepting I’ve come to the terms that I would never be the blooming rose. I find myself tossed among the weeds, but I have discovered that the weed is stronger than the rose. Roses die in winter, but Weeds always grow back because nothing can kill it. It is better to be an independent weed than a dependent beauty.

I’ve heard many synonyms for the term “weed” but my favorite is “artist”. It’s enigmatic why I always go back to art, but it is a mystery best remained unsolved. Art fuels the fire that kindles my life, and I consider it an eternal flame. In short, I have become so enthralled with the written language that art has become my life. Literature is the nectar of the gods, and I being foolish drank too much. Yet I will never regret the taste of metaphors on my tongue, nor forget the smell of sweet synonyms chilling in the binding of pages.

 I consumed words like food in my early ages, and my hunger was never satisfied with the verses I was given. The words hollowed out my esophagus and made it hard to swallow premature sentences. As I grew older my desire for prose followed my evolution exponentially, yet the more I craved the less I was able to attain. It was so easy to grasp yet intangible. However my hands never stopped holding themselves out asking “Please sir, may I have some more?”  Therefore when I was given nothing and left to my own devises, I came to the conclusion that if I could not find the words to mollify me I would have to create my own

I’m very cavalier when it comes to my own writing. I tend to it like a garden, and care for it like an infant child, and I protect it like a life. Some see this as being tenacious but I see this as being a true artist. My words speak for themselves. It’s humbling yet hubris to find such content in one’s own words. It’s a viscous cycle that I would never dream of ending. Although I am exultant of my own words I don’t write for myself: writers who write for themselves have no purpose in writing. We write to share words with others, after all that is the pure bliss of writing. I write to affect others, to cause change in composure and to catalyst a movement of new phrases, verses and ideas. Roses grow in packs of red and pink, but weeds grow in a plethora of colors that I’m not entirely sure how to describe.

Describing art is equal to trying to smell the color nine: impossible. I’m not going to sit here and tell you about the girl in third grade that pushed me down the stairs, or the boy that cut my hair in gym class: for obstacles in life don’t make an artist. It is the strategy that the artist puts into action that creates the art. The past is called the past for the reason, and as cliché as it sounds the present is a gift. I write for the voices of now that fight against those who dwell into the past. Change happens so rapidly in front of our eyes that we miss the revolutions tomorrow will be talking about. Something everyone always forgets is that we are living history. I desire to fill the pages of the next generation’s textbooks with words that will blow their craniums through the ceiling. It is up to today to generate adventures to inspire the actions of tomorrow. A personal goal of my own is to change the cosmopolitan and make the rose the outcast. By attending this intensive workshop in writing I believe I can concentrate my voice into a clear message that follows as such:

The weed is beautiful because it grows anywhere there is hope for life. The rose is superficial. Why be a rose when you can be a wild-flower?

----Hayley Michelle

Extra credit for being a slut?

So today I was a last minute film replacement in a student film at the High School I East Brunswick.

It is a five minute film spoofing/making a paradox of the show SuperNanny.

It was called 

SUPER NANNY TEENS ADITION

I was a slutty girl for down the street who dance to Kesha and drank alot and texted EVERYTHIG. 

So basically---- I was a regular teen.

Excited to see the final takes: I hope I did a good joke on average teens.

"Like oh muh gawd"

So ya---- does that count as extra credit? Idk. 

Lol

-Hayley 

BLOGS FOR WEEK (APRIL29- MAY 10) FILM STUFF

PG=100

ohmygod--- I cannot belive I deleted my bloggs from April 29th week---
So a SHORT recap:

Monday- I started to re-read Fuentaovajunta to have a better understanding of the humor. Its a slow process because the very strict iambic pentamitar is still ringing in my head. Of course, it shouldn't bother me It bothers me in many classic peices such as Tartuffe where the verse is so strong. But I understand the customs of the time and how an ear is supposed to hear such words--- my ear has not ajusted to it.l I love the story arch and what the play stands for--- but the structure block is well...:blocking me. XP

Tuesday- i formatted the script in Celtix and TRIED to send it to everyone shared. I cannot upload it to drive without loosing the format. ick. Hope it sent.

Wednesday- long day, but basically i forgot to blog and worked on my book instead.

Thursday- I saw the dance show. Really amazing in many aspects.

Friday- I did not blog because I was in the mountains on a Transcendentalist Leadership Award Retreat under RYLA (rotary Youth Leadership Acadamia).

IT WAS SO AWESOME! I climbed a mountains, trees, hiked some more--- I learned what to do in interviews, how to fire someone, how to deal with certain people in the workspace. I overal learned so many things that make me a better person and leader and I cannot wait to put them into action!


SO NOW TO THIS WEEK!

Monday- Turns out Celtix did not send--- so I printed it out. Also Celtix (being the little pain in the ass it is) will not let me EDIT my own script--- so I hand wrote the new edits NEATLY on all 8 copies of my script. To be handed out tomarrow in class.

Tuesday- I stayed after and played the piano for National Honnor Society--- but I should have been IN the National Honnor Society: but that is a different rant for a different blog. Anyway--- yay.

Wednesday- AGAIN: re-formatting my script because Celtx is horrible. I quit. I just want to be a tree so I don't have to talk about grades, and other things I apparently am Deranged about. grr--- I'm going to go do something artsy and get less angry. i cannot blog in these conditions.

Thursday- I worked on finding some clothe for Playing God. Foun a dress a few sizes too big and a fur wrap for rabbits--- both we're declined. But the search is still on! I am reading the plays but not enough to go into depth (I know, bad student!) but I'm trying to find things I can do without ticking off everyone. Idk

Friday- so I didn't neccisariy do anything for the film today, but I felt compelled to talk about my day. After school I walked over (a mile up hill with my guitar. Proud!) to teach music theory at Chittic Elementary. I stayed after and helped out in the special needs wing and tought kids basic theory and songs. They were so cute! It felt great to give back toy comunty in such a way--- where I can spread joy and an interest In the arts. I also talked about donating some plays that are "kid friendly" and I may be doing an easy Shakespeare reason program with the kids later this year/summer.

:)