In Into The Wild, Chris McCandless is free to break away from social conformities. In class, we were tasked with an experiment to see if we could do so temporarily. The experiment I chose to carry out was option number 2, which was to either wear makeup if you normally don’t, or go makeup-free to school one day. I normally don’t wear any makeup, so I wore eyeliner and mascara to school last Friday, which was also the day band students had to dress nicely for our state competition. As a result, I was wearing both clothes and makeup that were very different from my usual style. People that I didn’t know- complete strangers- didn’t seem to react any differently to the makeup- more to my formal dress. I was wearing a plain but very professional looking dress with heeled boots (which made loud clicking noises, attracting attention) and that made me stand out from the crowd. However, people I knew or were friends with had mixed reactions. A few people from the colorguard and a couple friends said I looked nice. Others looked at me for a second as if they were slightly confused or surprised, but didn’t say anything. Honestly, I expected both reactions. During the ‘experiment’, I definitely felt like people were looking at me, which I both enjoyed and disliked. Attention is nice, but sometimes it’s not something you want. I felt like I had a lot of power (mostly because I was dressed professionally and my shoes were loud) but also very exposed, like people were looking right through me and judging me by my appearance. Personally, I wasn’t surprised by people’s reactions. Often when people change their appearance, people they are familiar with take notice. Meanwhile, people who haven’t cared before, still don’t care, unless it affects them or is especially noticeable. Based on the results of this experiment, I feel like I am ‘able’ to not conform, but I may not be fully ‘free’ to do so. I think this was a good experiment though, because sometimes people are too used to being inside their shells and need a reason or a nudge to break away from their comfort zones.
Saturday, November 8, 2014
McCandless Project
McCandless Project
In Into The Wild, Chris McCandless is free to break away from social conformities. In class, we were tasked with an experiment to see if we could do so temporarily. The experiment I chose to carry out was option number 2, which was to either wear makeup if you normally don’t, or go makeup-free to school one day. I normally don’t wear any makeup, so I wore eyeliner and mascara to school last Friday, which was also the day band students had to dress nicely for our state competition. As a result, I was wearing both clothes and makeup that were very different from my usual style. People that I didn’t know- complete strangers- didn’t seem to react any differently to the makeup- more to my formal dress. I was wearing a plain but very professional looking dress with heeled boots (which made loud clicking noises, attracting attention) and that made me stand out from the crowd. However, people I knew or were friends with had mixed reactions. A few people from the colorguard and a couple friends said I looked nice. Others looked at me for a second as if they were slightly confused or surprised, but didn’t say anything. Honestly, I expected both reactions. During the ‘experiment’, I definitely felt like people were looking at me, which I both enjoyed and disliked. Attention is nice, but sometimes it’s not something you want. I felt like I had a lot of power (mostly because I was dressed professionally and my shoes were loud) but also very exposed, like people were looking right through me and judging me by my appearance. Personally, I wasn’t surprised by people’s reactions. Often when people change their appearance, people they are familiar with take notice. Meanwhile, people who haven’t cared before, still don’t care, unless it affects them or is especially noticeable. Based on the results of this experiment, I feel like I am ‘able’ to not conform, but I may not be fully ‘free’ to do so. I think this was a good experiment though, because sometimes people are too used to being inside their shells and need a reason or a nudge to break away from their comfort zones.
In Into The Wild, Chris McCandless is free to break away from social conformities. In class, we were tasked with an experiment to see if we could do so temporarily. The experiment I chose to carry out was option number 2, which was to either wear makeup if you normally don’t, or go makeup-free to school one day. I normally don’t wear any makeup, so I wore eyeliner and mascara to school last Friday, which was also the day band students had to dress nicely for our state competition. As a result, I was wearing both clothes and makeup that were very different from my usual style. People that I didn’t know- complete strangers- didn’t seem to react any differently to the makeup- more to my formal dress. I was wearing a plain but very professional looking dress with heeled boots (which made loud clicking noises, attracting attention) and that made me stand out from the crowd. However, people I knew or were friends with had mixed reactions. A few people from the colorguard and a couple friends said I looked nice. Others looked at me for a second as if they were slightly confused or surprised, but didn’t say anything. Honestly, I expected both reactions. During the ‘experiment’, I definitely felt like people were looking at me, which I both enjoyed and disliked. Attention is nice, but sometimes it’s not something you want. I felt like I had a lot of power (mostly because I was dressed professionally and my shoes were loud) but also very exposed, like people were looking right through me and judging me by my appearance. Personally, I wasn’t surprised by people’s reactions. Often when people change their appearance, people they are familiar with take notice. Meanwhile, people who haven’t cared before, still don’t care, unless it affects them or is especially noticeable. Based on the results of this experiment, I feel like I am ‘able’ to not conform, but I may not be fully ‘free’ to do so. I think this was a good experiment though, because sometimes people are too used to being inside their shells and need a reason or a nudge to break away from their comfort zones.
Monday, November 3, 2014
Inspirational Quote Journal
In class, we had to choose an inspirational quote that we thought represented ourselves. I chose my quote because it was positive, relatable, and it applied to my life. When I first read it, immediately I thought, "This makes sense, I can relate to this." The quote I chose says "The only person you should try to be better than is the person you were yesterday." I feel that this quote represents me because I have a strong belief in doing the right thing, but sometimes I make mistakes. When that happens, I try and learn from my mistakes and strive to do better. However, I don't reach for other peoples' goals or try to compare myself to them. I try to do my best to live like this already, but what if I followed it literally- for every waking second of my life? First off, I think I'd eventually run out of things to improve in myself. If I made and corrected every single mistake or flaw I've ever had, I think in the long run, I wouldn't have anything left to be better than. Everyone at some point becomes the best person they'll ever be, but nobody can be perfect. In that sense, I think I'd lose my purpose if my only goal was to become better and better every day. In addition, it would be extremely stressful to try and be my very best all the time. Also, if I didn't have some sort of role model or person to compare myself to, how would I know what to improve on in myself? In the scheme of things, living my life exactly, literally like the quote I chose would probably not be the best life for me, even if it sounds good at first.
Tuesday, October 7, 2014
Shadow- Short Story Rough Draft
Shadow
Do you ever get the feeling that you’re being watched? That you’re never really alone? Do you ever see something out of the corner of your eye that looked like it was... moving? Maybe there’s a flash in the dark that you could’ve sworn was a pair of eyes or the glint of moonlight on sharp teeth. I used to get that feeling all the time. And as far as I can tell, I was the only one who had ever found out what’s really hiding in the shadows, in the dark cracks and crevices in your room when the lights are out and everything is still and silent. That’s the time when many people are afraid… and they should be.
Nighttime is a demon’s playground. Spirits and shadows cannot exist without the dark. People say that there’s no such thing as darkness, only the absence of light. That’s untrue. Darkness is a force, a living thing, perhaps. Turning on a light in the room creates light, of course, but also shadows. Nobody is ever safe by just turning on a light. It’s dark under your bed, in your closet, under your blankets, behind the door. It’s dark inside your head. That’s where demons like to hide the most. But how do I know all this? Well, it’s quite the story...
It’s a Friday night. October. Very chilly. I pull my coat closer around me and wriggle my hands up into my sleeves. I’m walking back to my house, alone, after a friend’s birthday dinner a few blocks away. I look up at the sky and see that the thin crescent moon is almost completely obscured by thick, rolling clouds, choking out the already-weak silver rays. Its wan smile disappears altogether, and I am suddenly very, very afraid. I start to walk faster. Hah, I think to myself, This is just like one of those cliche horror stories. Dark, cold night, the moon disappears behind the clouds, now something’s going to jump out and kill me or something. I’m almost home. I see my porch light. The buttery yellow glow gives me comfort, and I feel better. I fumble with my keys, the icy cold metal surprising me a bit. I drop them. I look around cautiously and scoop them up with shaky hands. I unlock the door as fast as I can and slip inside. The air is still, the usually creaky old house silent. I stand for a second. Something is wrong. I set my purse on the table slowly. I go to flip the light switch when I see something move out of the corner of my eye. I turn and scan the room. My heart is beating so fast, it’s trying to drum its way out of my chest and run out the door. Why am I so afraid? There’s nothing here. You’re alone. Not turning my back on the room, I turn on the light. It flicks on and my fear subsides a bit. Shrugging off my coat, I decide to watch TV to distract myself from the nagging feeling that I am, in fact, not alone.
I know, I know, it seems boring now. Very ordinary. That’s the thing- usually very ordinary people have the most extraordinary experiences. I was just a regular high school girl- average house, average family, average friends. I lived in a small town in Idaho, away from bright, bustling cities. We didn’t see much action out there. Even though my life was simple, I was happy. I hadn’t had any real fun or excitement for a while, but I hadn’t had any issues either. Long story short, everything had been the same for a long time, and that’s how it was supposed to be. However, it’s in places like that- old, outdated towns with more than a few senile old folks- that rumors and myths are born. Back to the story…
I’m watching television, but I’m only half awake. The dark room and soft background noise of talk shows makes me sleepy. Just as I’m drifting off to sleep, I hear a strange staticy noise. It’s the television. Groggily reaching for the remote, I try to fix the problem, but nothing works. I hit the power button. Nothing happens. The screen is grainy when all of a sudden I see what looks like a face in the waves of grayish pixels. Its features are crude and twisted in agony. A shrill, screeching sound is coming from the speakers. Fully awake and curious, I stand up and creep closer to the screen. Big mistake. The figure in the static lets out a piercing howl and swipes for my face, its claws physically coming out of the screen, a three-dimensional mass of pixellated matter. I shriek and stumble backwards. The monster’s hand reaches further out of the screen and materializes before my eyes, becoming greyish bones and rotten, sagging flesh reaching for my heart with disgusting brown claws. I do the only thing I can think of and aim a kick at the TV. My sneaker crashes through the screen and the monster’s hand dissolves with a hiss. I stand back, panting, and watch as the demonic figure, whatever it is, disappear. The television is busted, but I’m safe.
But what now? I grab my phone and dial 911. Nobody picks up. Just static, punctuated by periodic beeps. “That’s weird. 911 is always supposed to work. But who says they’d take me seriously?” I say out loud. “Whatever just happened was definitely paranormal. Nobody would believe it. They’d think I’m trying to pull some prank or get attention.” I set the phone down and decide to go to bed. Maybe I’m hallucinating or something. I trudge up the stairs to my room and get in bed, not bothering to brush my teeth or change my clothes. Almost as soon as I lie down, I fall asleep.
It was an unwise decision, I must admit. Most sensible people would barricade themselves in a brightly lit room, hiding in their blankets and glancing around the room every so often with wide eyes, making sure that nothing is there. Most sensible people don’t believe in demons and living shadows. I was not a sensible person.
I fall asleep, but not for long. An unclear nightmare, blurry and thick in my mind, jolts me awake. I open my eyes and lie there for a moment, listening, alert. The room is nearly pitch black, save for the very weak, bluish glow of the sky coming through my window blinds. Slowly, I turn to look at my alarm clock, but I’m confused. It isn’t there. The glowing red numbers are nowhere to be seen. I contemplate whether or not I should reach from under my covers to turn on my bedside lamp. There is a chilled sensation slowly trickling through my veins, making my heart seem to beat faster and my senses more acute. It’s fear. I am afraid. I shift farther under the covers and turn to look at the window, hoping to get some clue to what time it is. Every movement seems like it takes an infinity, every sound seems like fireworks in my eardrums. When I am finally facing the other side, I see that the window is dark. I stare blankly at the window, eyes wide and straining to make out the familiar features of my room in the next-to-nothing light. As my eyes adjust, I see something that wasn’t there before. A tall, thin, shape in the corner. It’s nearly indistinguishable from the shadowy walls. There is no furniture in that corner. I stay completely still, heart pounding, eyes locked on the corner. Then, to my utter horror, the dark shape starts to glide, slowly, towards my bed. I shut my eyes, hoping it’s my mind playing tricks on me. Once my eyes are closed, I’m too afraid to open them. I tremble as I sense the figure come close to my bed and stop. A tear trickles down my cheek as the cold, shadowy mass envelops me in complete darkness.
Two days later, my death was all over the news. TEEN FOUND DEAD IN BED, CAUSE OF DEATH UNDETERMINED. My parents were concerned when I didn’t come downstairs to leave for school, and immediately went to investigate. I watched as they discovered my body, cold and grey, underneath the covers. The demon had killed me. As a result, I became one, condemned to hide in the darkness for eternity. I am one of them now. I am a shadow.
Do you ever get the feeling that you’re being watched? That you’re never really alone? Do you ever see something out of the corner of your eye that looked like it was... moving? Maybe there’s a flash in the dark that you could’ve sworn was a pair of eyes or the glint of moonlight on sharp teeth. I used to get that feeling all the time. And as far as I can tell, I was the only one who had ever found out what’s really hiding in the shadows, in the dark cracks and crevices in your room when the lights are out and everything is still and silent. That’s the time when many people are afraid… and they should be.
Nighttime is a demon’s playground. Spirits and shadows cannot exist without the dark. People say that there’s no such thing as darkness, only the absence of light. That’s untrue. Darkness is a force, a living thing, perhaps. Turning on a light in the room creates light, of course, but also shadows. Nobody is ever safe by just turning on a light. It’s dark under your bed, in your closet, under your blankets, behind the door. It’s dark inside your head. That’s where demons like to hide the most. But how do I know all this? Well, it’s quite the story...
It’s a Friday night. October. Very chilly. I pull my coat closer around me and wriggle my hands up into my sleeves. I’m walking back to my house, alone, after a friend’s birthday dinner a few blocks away. I look up at the sky and see that the thin crescent moon is almost completely obscured by thick, rolling clouds, choking out the already-weak silver rays. Its wan smile disappears altogether, and I am suddenly very, very afraid. I start to walk faster. Hah, I think to myself, This is just like one of those cliche horror stories. Dark, cold night, the moon disappears behind the clouds, now something’s going to jump out and kill me or something. I’m almost home. I see my porch light. The buttery yellow glow gives me comfort, and I feel better. I fumble with my keys, the icy cold metal surprising me a bit. I drop them. I look around cautiously and scoop them up with shaky hands. I unlock the door as fast as I can and slip inside. The air is still, the usually creaky old house silent. I stand for a second. Something is wrong. I set my purse on the table slowly. I go to flip the light switch when I see something move out of the corner of my eye. I turn and scan the room. My heart is beating so fast, it’s trying to drum its way out of my chest and run out the door. Why am I so afraid? There’s nothing here. You’re alone. Not turning my back on the room, I turn on the light. It flicks on and my fear subsides a bit. Shrugging off my coat, I decide to watch TV to distract myself from the nagging feeling that I am, in fact, not alone.
I know, I know, it seems boring now. Very ordinary. That’s the thing- usually very ordinary people have the most extraordinary experiences. I was just a regular high school girl- average house, average family, average friends. I lived in a small town in Idaho, away from bright, bustling cities. We didn’t see much action out there. Even though my life was simple, I was happy. I hadn’t had any real fun or excitement for a while, but I hadn’t had any issues either. Long story short, everything had been the same for a long time, and that’s how it was supposed to be. However, it’s in places like that- old, outdated towns with more than a few senile old folks- that rumors and myths are born. Back to the story…
I’m watching television, but I’m only half awake. The dark room and soft background noise of talk shows makes me sleepy. Just as I’m drifting off to sleep, I hear a strange staticy noise. It’s the television. Groggily reaching for the remote, I try to fix the problem, but nothing works. I hit the power button. Nothing happens. The screen is grainy when all of a sudden I see what looks like a face in the waves of grayish pixels. Its features are crude and twisted in agony. A shrill, screeching sound is coming from the speakers. Fully awake and curious, I stand up and creep closer to the screen. Big mistake. The figure in the static lets out a piercing howl and swipes for my face, its claws physically coming out of the screen, a three-dimensional mass of pixellated matter. I shriek and stumble backwards. The monster’s hand reaches further out of the screen and materializes before my eyes, becoming greyish bones and rotten, sagging flesh reaching for my heart with disgusting brown claws. I do the only thing I can think of and aim a kick at the TV. My sneaker crashes through the screen and the monster’s hand dissolves with a hiss. I stand back, panting, and watch as the demonic figure, whatever it is, disappear. The television is busted, but I’m safe.
But what now? I grab my phone and dial 911. Nobody picks up. Just static, punctuated by periodic beeps. “That’s weird. 911 is always supposed to work. But who says they’d take me seriously?” I say out loud. “Whatever just happened was definitely paranormal. Nobody would believe it. They’d think I’m trying to pull some prank or get attention.” I set the phone down and decide to go to bed. Maybe I’m hallucinating or something. I trudge up the stairs to my room and get in bed, not bothering to brush my teeth or change my clothes. Almost as soon as I lie down, I fall asleep.
It was an unwise decision, I must admit. Most sensible people would barricade themselves in a brightly lit room, hiding in their blankets and glancing around the room every so often with wide eyes, making sure that nothing is there. Most sensible people don’t believe in demons and living shadows. I was not a sensible person.
I fall asleep, but not for long. An unclear nightmare, blurry and thick in my mind, jolts me awake. I open my eyes and lie there for a moment, listening, alert. The room is nearly pitch black, save for the very weak, bluish glow of the sky coming through my window blinds. Slowly, I turn to look at my alarm clock, but I’m confused. It isn’t there. The glowing red numbers are nowhere to be seen. I contemplate whether or not I should reach from under my covers to turn on my bedside lamp. There is a chilled sensation slowly trickling through my veins, making my heart seem to beat faster and my senses more acute. It’s fear. I am afraid. I shift farther under the covers and turn to look at the window, hoping to get some clue to what time it is. Every movement seems like it takes an infinity, every sound seems like fireworks in my eardrums. When I am finally facing the other side, I see that the window is dark. I stare blankly at the window, eyes wide and straining to make out the familiar features of my room in the next-to-nothing light. As my eyes adjust, I see something that wasn’t there before. A tall, thin, shape in the corner. It’s nearly indistinguishable from the shadowy walls. There is no furniture in that corner. I stay completely still, heart pounding, eyes locked on the corner. Then, to my utter horror, the dark shape starts to glide, slowly, towards my bed. I shut my eyes, hoping it’s my mind playing tricks on me. Once my eyes are closed, I’m too afraid to open them. I tremble as I sense the figure come close to my bed and stop. A tear trickles down my cheek as the cold, shadowy mass envelops me in complete darkness.
Two days later, my death was all over the news. TEEN FOUND DEAD IN BED, CAUSE OF DEATH UNDETERMINED. My parents were concerned when I didn’t come downstairs to leave for school, and immediately went to investigate. I watched as they discovered my body, cold and grey, underneath the covers. The demon had killed me. As a result, I became one, condemned to hide in the darkness for eternity. I am one of them now. I am a shadow.
Wednesday, September 24, 2014
Metacognitive Blog: And Then There Were None
I had written an essay on Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None. During the revision process, I made sure to correct and improve on several things. First, I changed all contractions (excluding dialogue) to their separate parent words (such as changing "don't" to "do not" or "isn't" to "is not.") Then, I read over the essay and looked for sentences that looked choppy or needed explanations or details. I made sentences longer and helped them flow better. Finally, I skimmed the essay for any grammar, spelling or punctuation errors, which were an easy fix. Of the three types of support for improving my essay, I only had the chance to receive two (written feedback on timed writing; peer editing). Personally, I believe the peer review checklist and commentary was more helpful because my peer gave specific examples of what I could fix. She also made comments on what she liked about the essay. I also think the peer review checklist was helpful because it gave a second opinion on whether or not I left anything out. As for the rest of the year, I believe peer editing, feedback on past assignments, and an adult's advice on written work will continue to help me improve my writing. I personally think that other peoples' opinions and feedback is vastly important. It can help writers by showing them what people think of their work, and readers will often catch a mistake that the writer overlooked. Even though writing is one of my strongest points in school, I have plenty of room to improve. I often make sentences much longer than they should be, and sometimes I struggle with making my writing stick to the topic. Occasionally my sentences 'jump' from topic to topic without proper transitions. One goal I have this year is to keep my writing short and sweet when necessary, and always on topic.
Thanks for reading!
~Luna M.
Thanks for reading!
~Luna M.
Sunday, September 14, 2014
Theme of Smiles To Go- Timed Writing, Revised Version
I read Smiles To Go by Jerry Spinelli. The theme in this book is not everything can be planned out in life, and sometimes it’ll throw something at you that you’d never expect. This is because the main character, Will Tuppence, has his whole life planned out. He loves to be in charge and in control of what’s going on around him. Things have a routine for him, and that’s how they should be. Suddenly, a new scientific discovery shatters that mindset and leaves him feeling lost. The discovery? Protons, the immensely tiny particles that make up our entire universe, can die. What does that mean? Everything has an end. Everything that is something will eventually cease to exist and become nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. (Note: Science has not yet confirmed that proton decay is real or possible.) This supports the theme because from Will’s perspective, his future seems unsure and unstable now that he knows nothing will last forever. Farther into the book, Will’s plan is upset when he is unable to complete a chess tournament. He is so close to winning a match when all of a sudden his parents come with grave news- there has been an accident. Will’s little sister Tabby, frustrated and seeking attention, decides to try to skateboard down Dead Man’s Hill- the most treacherous hill in the area, just like Will’s friend B.T., the only person to ever skateboard down that hill and survive. She is severely injured and ends up in the hospital on life support. Will is struck with how small and innocent and weak she seems- no, this can’t be the little girl who climbs on the counter, steals atomic watches, and drops black jelly beans (his favorite) into the trash one by one just to make him mad. This is not the plan. This is not the routine. Will’s mother gives him a strange task: Go home and look carefully at Ozzie, Tabby’s stuffed octopus. Will obeys. He does as he is instructed and finds that Ozzie’s stuffing has been replaced with a jar of black jelly beans. His mother later explains that Tabby has picked every single jelly bean out of the trash when Will was not looking, dusted them off, and collected them in the jar. It is a birthday present, albeit a strange one, and it shows that Tabby loves Will as her big brother- she just shows it differently. This supports the theme because Will has always thought of Tabby as the obnoxious younger sibling that’s out to drive him insane- always there, making mischief. When she is hospitalized, she is no longer there to bother him. His life is altered, and he realizes just how important Tabby actually is to him. Sure, she drives him crazy, but deep down, he loves her. At the end of the book, Will decides to lighten up a bit and not fuss over his life quite so much. He learns to accept that life is full of unexpected events, and it doesn't always go the way you want it to.
Thank you for reading!
Tuesday, August 26, 2014
Welcome to my Blog!
Hello, friends!
My name is Luna and I am a high school moth. This is my blog where I'll be posting my written work. I hope everyone can enjoy my writing! Please leave only constructive criticism. And please, don't discriminate against moths!
-Luna M.
My name is Luna and I am a high school moth. This is my blog where I'll be posting my written work. I hope everyone can enjoy my writing! Please leave only constructive criticism. And please, don't discriminate against moths!
-Luna M.
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