By Pattie Crider
A storm was brewing at the 2013 York Fair. I ran for shelter and found comfort photographing the animals. 



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Just a girl writing in the blogging ring
By Pattie Crider
A storm was brewing at the 2013 York Fair. I ran for shelter and found comfort photographing the animals. 



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I got a call while I was in Rhetorical Theory class. John wanted to tell me that there was a meeting for the parent’s of the girls that were joining Girl Scouts. Heck, Tesla even joining Girl Scouts was news to me, but that didn’t surprise me.
I get to the meeting and learn Heather is the Assistant Girl Scout Leader of Tesla’s troop. That didn’t surprise me.
I filled out papers for Tesla to join. I gave it to Heather, so she could have John sign on his line. She told me they already filled out Tesla’s membership paper. Good, I hope they paid the fee too. (So much for needing both parents signature) That didn’t surprise me.
John showed up later, stopping before heading into York to play softball. Tesla was going home with Heather. That didn’t surprise me.
He said Tesla had a doctor appointment at 7:45 AM to have her nose cauterized. This was the first I heard about it. That didn’t surprise me.
We had a verbal spat about how he is to discuss things like, Girl Scouts and doctor appointments, with me. He blew me off. That didn’t surprise me.
Heather called me while I was developing film on campus. She wanted to extend the olive branch and hoped I would be involved in Girl Scouts with Tesla. That we could get along for what is best for Tesla. That she doesn’t put herself in the business of John and I getting divorced or the ongoing battle of custody. I didn’t agree with her opinion and that didn’t surprise me.
She went on and on about how wonder her and her ex husband’s relationship is, and that she would write letters to glorify her ex husband’s new wife and even sign over her children to the new wife, if it were necessary. I didn’t really follow her thought process. That didn’t surprise me.
Finally, I just told her she didn’t need to blow smoke up my ass anymore than I needed to blow smoke up hers. (Maybe she got that, maybe not) That, while her divorce is final, mine has not even started, and I have no other intention but to pursue the divorce to court and eventually, take custody of Tesla. That, beyond the entire divorce and custody nightmare, I am glad that Tesla is a happy child even though she was not given the choice of where she wanted to live and that John and I will never agree, and it will always be a matter of what the court decides, until Tesla is old enough to make the decision that the law will take into consideration. I told Heather, she can say she isn’t “part of the problem” but unless she truly butts out, like Dale does, she will always be part of this three-ring-circus and the way I deal with this circus is to write about it, and go to college. I told her I am happy to have Girl Scout time with Tesla (since I can barely squeeze any other time out) and that I am certain we can all get along for what is best for our children. I told her I am tired of being the last person to know anything, and that John’s behavior with screaming at me over being 15 minutes late returning Tesla after the fair was just ridiculous, considering he can’t give me any information about Tesla in the way the courts laid out. That he claims I am irresponsible, but he instigates problems by disrespecting me in front of Tesla. While she wouldn’t agree that John acts like a complete Ahole and thinks he is always right, we did manage to have a conversation lasting nearly sixteen minutes where neither of us screamed at the other or hung-up pissed off.
Now that surprised me.
~P.
Update: Heather text messaged me that the paper I signed was holding me responsible for any fundraiser money, not giving permission for Tesla to join the Girl Scouts. Silly me, thinking she might need her mother’s permission to join, not just be responsible for all the money from endless fundraisers.
Just when I thought things were getting dull, I meet the girls at http://www.mannequinfetish.com ~P.
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Ceiling light show
Pattie Crider
G241
Questions
September 13, 2013
Media has the ability to make life more real. The user of media, whether creating or reading what others have created, engages in a relationship with others. This can be in a variety of ways, from internet use, cell phones, television, radio and text. The common denominator is all information shared has an author and at times, depending on the format a multitude of authors. This shift in the ownership of a created piece of work that becomes accessible to others on a worldwide level is what makes life and media work hand in hand.
Information accessed on the Internet is often intentionally (or unintentionally) tied to clickable links, allowing the consumer to instantly gather possibly more information than ever intended. All information, though it may seem to just linger out there, unclaimed by any single person, is traceable back to it point of origin. Manovich wrote that new media created new models of authorship which involve multiple forms of collaboration in order to present a finished product. This seemed to imply that very little circulating on the Internet is original work. From one aspect, that is true. The work has been changed here and there, in virtual reality, but still, one person had to have set this into motion. The remixing, sampling and open source projects all started somewhere, but have been art of some type mashed together with other art. This probably started with the Dada’s and their desire to shake-up people’s view on how art is created. The Dada’s concept of “found objects” recycled into a new art is an easy parallel to what remixing and sampling are in the humanities of the 21st Century.
Diakopoulos’s graphs in the Remix Culture paper depicted the original “book” type of authorship represented as person to media to person, ie: writer makes literary work and it is read by a consumer. I understand his four figures shown in the reading, but I think there is one more that could be represented. Sharing on the Internet means a literary work has been produced and released worldwide. Again, I envision this as a ray, in a scientific aspect. The writer creates a starting point and shares it with millions of people at once. Those reading this static work (written, photo or video) and shares it on their chosen media outlet (Facebook, Twitter, Reddit, Google+, etc.) and it just keeps expanding exponentially with no end. The author will always remain the author. Ideally, no one should be making changes to a piece of work that is not intended to be part of an open source or remix process.
I find the art of remixing, sampling and meme extremely enjoyable. Photoshop and Microsoft Video have made this simple to do. The process of making these sampled works often involves using what others have already created. I do this sampling to learn the writing process, especially that of classic rhetors. I even practice speaking in a rhetorical manner and find that it does affect those I am addressing. Language and everything associated with language can be used in current times to create works that will cause a reaction or evoke an emotion. After Miley Cyrus danced on stage with a foam finger, twerking at the music awards, I created a meme of her and Thicke onstage with Thicke’s head removed and Beetlejuice’s head replaced. In quotes, I wrote “Oh Miley, you’re my #1 too!” Yes, the photo was taken from the MTV website, but the idea and meme creation stemming from the frame frozen in the video, was mine. To make this claim, I simply added Girlboxer1970.com to the photo-shopped picture. To my audience, they realize I didn’t take the photo, I just put my “twist” on the entire performance that honestly disgusted me, yet like a train-wreck, I couldn’t look away. That is how I want consumers to view my writing, photography and videos. I’m fine with being a train-wreck as long as my audience continues to return and I don’t get charged for altering Thicke’s head into Beetlejuice.
Several tragic events happening on September 9th have touched my life.
And now, in 2013, I celebrate a small victory of personal consequence. After five years of medically supporting my brain to process and handle the depression I suffered from, I am now anti-depressant free.
Ironically, the need for anti-depressant medication was necessary due to that fateful meeting nine years ago. Go figure.
A stigmata is attached to people who are prescribed medication to adjust the levels of stuff in their brain that keeps them feeling that the weight of life will not crush them into a deflated pile of human rubble. The stigmata attached to depression could be that one is: crazy, lazy, stupid, weird, needy, sad, suicidal, etc. Don’t fall for the misconceptions quickly associated with depression.
Life is deep and feels like it will suck you down in a dark hole with no way to pull yourself out. People pass by and see you there suffering, but they can’t help you. You have to want to help yourself. Not in just finding and sticking to a medication that works for your symptoms, but to also seek a form of counseling or therapy.
Talking things out with a stranger qualified to listen and understand what your words mean, makes the process of healing the wounds on the inside much easier to achieve. I know, because I’ve been there. I went to counseling for four years, and it was time well spent.
There are many more days in my life to enjoy and explore. I welcome each day with open arms because nothing can bring me down again.
Nothing.
~P.
Thank you my dear friend David Brillhart https://www.facebook.com/dbrillhart1, for allowing me to subject your arm and nose to blood, chicken and beef livers. You are one cool dude. Do you still smell blood? I do! ~P.
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Pattie Crider
WRT 305
Response 4
September 11, 2013
True Rhetoric and the Characteristics According to Plato
Plato believed that true rhetoric was more than verbally exchanging thoughts and ideas to hash out a particular human discourse. It was not an art to use for self-promotion or to seek praise of others. Plato believed true rhetoric advanced students in knowledge, not just flattered them with false praise.
The main characteristic of rhetoric based on Plato’s writings would be truth. Plato believed humans could achieve absolute knowledge and that rhetoric could assist in this achievement. Those who shared good rhetoric were believed to be touched by a higher power, whether a god, goddess or God. This “madness” was divine inspiration and only achievable by those moved by a higher power. All of this truthfulness was based on the love the speaker had for the higher power, a platonic relationship, one that can never sour.
Plato’s interest was not in producing politicians through his teaching, but elevating those worthy of having love for true rhetoric, that inspired by God. This fascinates me because I often wonder if an orator would come forward (or anyone, for that matter) and declare to have knowledge directly from the God, would anyone believe such to be true? Most likely the person would be declared insane and scorned for his love of God and attempt to share what he has learned as truth.
Phaedrus and Socrates’ dialogue within the text allows me to believe that people did in fact, speak publicly, guided by God. People were speaking, whether divinely inspired or driven by money, and others were listening. I wonder what has changed that makes those in love with God and speaking only to promote the truth, be viewed differently now than through-out history. Has society hardened to the point that no one dares believe a man (or woman) could be possessed by a higher power and inspired to share the truth with those who will never reach such success? My personal answer is yes. Plato would say those who know true rhetoric–good rhetoric–will recognize the soul is immortal and in doing so, achieve absolute knowledge.
My absolute knowledge, is more than questionable. 😉 ~P.
Kafka was a self-loathing lawyer who hated everything he wrote and was trapped in a profession he liked to mock. Yes, that does sound like the traits of a superb writer now, doesn’t it? John Updike and I both agree. 😉
Franz Kafka was born in 1883 and was a lawyer by profession. He also was a closet writer. Prior to his death in 1924 he ordered his ex-wives, mother, and his page to destroy all copies of his writing. Lucky for us, only a few ex-wives followed his instructions. His mother and page destroyed nothing and Kafka’s work was translated so that all can read what this amazing writer wanted to desperately destroy.
Perhaps my favorite essay that was saved was written to his father, a letter that Kafka gave to his mother. It is titled, “Letter to His Father” and was written in 1919. His father never read the letter because Kafka knew it would just kick up a shit storm in the house. Kafka lived at home his entire life, never obtaining the love he needed from his father. I hear ya Kafka, but I moved out.
Kafka writes with tenderness and humor in a graphic manner. It doesn’t surprise me that his writing were eventual put into a comic book format. That textbook is my personal favorite since starting college in 2010. Kafka lives feeling nearly worthless, imagining horrific ways in which he could die. Die by bizarre coincidence, not by suicide. His death was due to tuberculosis while confined to a sanatorium. He died a month short of turning forty-one.
His final message to a friend was “five books and one short story are all that can stand” as works that he would want to remain after his death. He still felt they weren’t particularly special and didn’t feel they should be “reprinted and handed down to posterity.” Another request of Kafka’s that was ignored. Later, his friends came forward with manuscripts they had written based on conversations with Kafka. Those sneaky friends did us a huge favor.
Some of Kafka’s manuscripts were still being written. The unfinished stories are not found as incomplete as the opening, body and climax, had been reached. Kafka’s essays often delved into his on psycho analysis. He wrote of his life feeling unloved by his father, feeling helpless, and depressed. Often his stories revolved around a creature or bug as the main character as Kafka worked through his own feelings of self-worth. A writer corresponded with Kafka’s friend who was writing manuscripts behind Kafka’s back. The letter to Brod, Kafka’s friend, stated, “Franz can not live. Franz doe not have the capacity for living. He is like a naked man among a multitude who are dressed.” Franz really didn’t like himself and knew he would never live up to the standards expected of him. His father’s indifference to his son scarred Kafka until his death.
A line in the final section of the forward struck a key with me. “Fantasy, for Kafka even more than for most writers of fiction, was the way out of his skin, so he could get back in.” That resounds with me because even with writing nonfiction, it allows me to exit and write in the first person, only to climb back in and resume life as it happens.
Works cited:
Franz Kafka. The Complete Stories
David Mairowitz and Robert Crumb Introducing Kafka
For nineteen years (1802–1821) the caverns were the home of William Wilson, known as the Pennsylvania Hermit. Wilson withdrew from society after his failure to halt the execution of his sister WElizabeth for the murder of her twin sons. Following her death in Chester, Pennsylvania in 1786, William wandered westward across southeastern Pennsylvania, settling in the caverns in 1802. The Sweets of Solitude: Instructions to Mankind How They May Be Happy in a Miserable World, an essay supposedly written by Wilson during his time in the caverns, was published following his death. (Wiki)
Directly underneath
So we learned that the first visitors of the caverns were….wait for it….Indians. After that it was the French fur-trappers. They were hanging out in the caves, building fires, staying dry and waiting for animals to be caught in their traps. That was back in the 17th and 18th Centuries. In the 19th Century ole William set up camp until from 1802 until 1821, dying a cave resident. After that, the caves were open to people passing through, perhaps looking to advertise their business cheaply. The first graffiti was an advertising for pretzels.
There were a few other acts of graffiti following the abandonment of the caverns. In 1929, Mr. John Beiber (no relation to Justin, our guide told us) opened the caverns to the public, with the paths improved and gravel added for safety. The rooms of mineral deposits were opened for viewing, and handrails, light fixtures, etc. were added to assist in navigating the cavern. It is dark, chilly, and damp, and often eerie inside, with tales by our guide about dragons and zombies.
I found this promotional photo from 1970 on the Indian Echo Caverns website and thought it was the bees knees. 😉
In 1942, Mr. Edward S. Swartz, a Hershey native purchased the caverns and his family still retains ownership. The color of the caves has not been altered, they really are that colorful!
We also enjoyed the Conestoga Wagon display and the petting zoo. 🙂
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