Setting Designs

A remix of a song I linked in 30 Mental Life Hacks.

I Need Some Sleep (Dwin Remix):


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I just want to design places that I'd like to hang out in.

No psychological examinations or implications in this post. Just for fun. I have six hours to kill until I board my flight.

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The rectangular room is huge, to begin with. It's at least five times your height, and stretches long enough that there are shadows in the far corners. As you enter the room from a door in a corner, facing the long side, the first thing you notice is the huge stained glass window - it's big enough to reach from the ceiling to about three feet from the floor. It depicts an image of a red japanese maple tree as the centerpiece, placed against a golden-yellow sky. The window is deeply set into the wall, so that there is space for a cushioned window seat under it.

Yellow and red glass filters light through the rest of the room. All the walls are covered in tall bookshelves, and all the bookshelves are chock full of books - thin research journals, stained cloth-bound tomes, entire sets of what seems to be every series ever written. There is a rolling ladder for each wall; two for the one where the window bisects the shelves. In the middle of the room are three evenly scattered arm chairs and one lounge chair, each next to its own table and lamp. Each lamp has a dome-shaped shade made of pieces of glass in similar yellow hues as the window. Everything wooden - the floor, the shelves, the legs of the chairs, the tables - is a dark mahogany brown. The cushions and upholstery are a velvet-like maroon shade, as is the large rectangular carpet that covers just the middle of the floor. The ceiling and what little wall that is showing is painted creamy white, but in the dim room it looks like dark ivory.

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This bedroom is much smaller, and has the air of being thoroughly lived in. The predominate color is white - the walls, ceiling, and desk are all painted a snowy shade. The hardwood floor is a light caramel color, but a white plush carpet covers most of it.  Tucked lengthwise into the far left corner is a bed with a lilac duvet, with tall, wooden bedposts, and still messy from where the inhabitant left it that morning; in the right corner, a small wooden staircase winds straight up into the ceiling. On the left wall is a large aquarium, filled with bright plaster coral rocks and water plants, and no small amount of fish; the rest of that wall is taken up by a wooden closet door. Along the right wall is placed a set of drawers with two levels of bookshelves attached above it - both levels are full of paperbacks. Next to this combination drawer/shelf is a shorter bookcase with three levels, but the middle one is crammed with old, worn shoes. On top of it are photos in thin brown frames and an admirable shell and sea glass collection. A large light brown cork board is hung above this shorter bookshelf. There are fresh ivy wreaths resting on top of every lampshade, and small potted plants on the desk, nightstand, and bookshelves. Pictures and posters of nature cover the walls, as well as smaller mementos - train slips, museum admissions, photo booth strips, concert tickets. A large window on the far wall spills bright light on every surface. 

Up the staircase is a different story. Where the stairs meet the ceiling there is a small trapdoor, to keep out the dust. Through this door is a spacious attic. It spans the rest of the house, so it's huge, much bigger than the room downstairs. Also unlike the bedroom, the attic has the feeling of having been a bit neglected, though someone is obviously trying to make repairs. Part of the walls have begun to be painted white, and furniture small enough to fit through the trapdoor has been placed throughout the room. A small wooden three-legged table is placed in a corner with two chairs, and a tall, thin vase with a few bright wildflowers are placed on top. An easel with a tall wooden stool is placed against the opposite wall, where the largest window lets in light; there are no lightbulbs. Some squashy cushions are laid out on the three window seats, and there are already small stacks of paperbacks piled on the floor next to each one. An open can of dark wood varnish sits on the ground in a back corner, a new paintbrush lying new and unused next to it.

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I See Fire - Kygo Remix, by Ed Sheeran:
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Temperate forests are known for having deciduous trees with brilliant foliage in the fall, and this one is no different. From a bird's-eye view, the trees create a bumpy sea of crimson, green, and goldenrod that blankets the gentle rolling hills. But this particular section of the forest is an aspen grove. The slender trees are rather densely packed together, so the changing autumn leaves make it look as though there is an immense golden cloud surrounding the white crowns of the trees. The ground is relatively clear of debris and duff, letting grass grow more freely, but there are a few small shrubs and bushes growing here and there. Some bushes have bright clusters of red berries.

Somewhere in the middle of this grove is a clearing about 10 feet in diameter. The grass, completely uninhibited, is much greener and longer here. About three feet from the trees, neither in the middle of the cleaning nor right up against the thin trunks, is a large, completely clear ball propped above the ground on a sturdy steel frame. It's big enough to comfortably accommodate an average-sized person. Inside is a nest of many faded red blankets, a large white pillow, and many smaller cushions in muted, dusty colors.

There is an almost invisible door that opens to the inside of this bubble. Someone was recently here; there is an open book laid facedown on the blankets, and a phone attached to a small portable speaker. 

Outside, it starts to rain. The wind picks up, rustling the golden leaves so they make a crinkling, whispering sound. The rain begins to fall in earnest, and runs in tiny rivers and streams down the curved sides of the ball, tiny raindrops racing one another to the ground. The storm softly drums against the clear ball, but the fixture is completely waterproof. The view of the surrounding forest becomes a bit blurred as the rain continues to pour. However, it doesn't mask the shape of a doe as she steps lightly across the grass; too soon does she quietly disappear between the fair svelte aspens.

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This is a kitchen fit for kings. It's at least 30 by 25 feet, if not larger. Against the longer wall, from left to right, is an extremely long waist-height counter, followed by an eight-set gas stove, a slightly shorter (lengthwise) counter like the first, an inset microwave above an industrial oven, and a double door refrigerator at the end of it all. The counter in the corner of the wall continues over onto roughly a third of the shorter wall. About three feet from the L-shaped counters is a kitchen island, also at waist-height, where the sink and dishwasher are installed, with plenty of countertop left over for a cutting board and two potted plants. It stops just before the refrigerator against the wall, but is still an impressive feature of the room. On the half of the island further away from the stoves and oven is attached a raised platform about a foot high and a foot and a half wide, still spanning the entire length of the island. Right up against this bar are placed five wooden chairs on tall, stilt-like legs.

All countertops are made of a lovely shade of dusty white granite, with copious thick veins of variating hues of honey marbling the surfaces. The cupboards above the counter and the many drawers below are all a dark yellowish brown. The floor is tiled with large marble squares - dark grey veins running through cloudy milk. The walls are white with just the slightest hint of gold.

A block of knives, a stand for paper towels, a coffee-maker, a toaster, all the typical kitchen appliances and more are neatly placed and organized on the counters against the wall. Everything that could be made of metal is a gleaming stainless steel - the refrigerator keeps drawing the eye as light plays across the wide reflective surface. The stove top is a dark matte grey, the same color as the windows in the microwave and oven. A large wicker bowl full of fruit is placed at the end of the countertop against the shorter wall.

On the wall just behind the island bar and chairs is a huge french door, providing a view to the backyard patio. Long windows stretch away on either side of the doors and light up the room; the domed chandelier on the ceiling is almost completely useless.

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The second description is from a high-school-senior-year-side-partner-book-project that I didn't get very far on. I liked describing stuff that was happening instead of actually advancing the plot, so it's no wonder my friend and I soon lost steam on it after not even a year. But yeah, that bedroom was the room of the character I was in charge of. I just changed and added a few aspects.

I noticed as soon as I described a library, a bedroom, and nature, I was completely stumped as to what to write next. Unless I'm with friends or in school, I don't really go to many other places. It's hard to describe a shopping mall or a classroom without either thinking that it would be a place I'd like to hang out, or thinking that it's a desirable safe spot for anyone else. In the end, I just came up with a random kitchen. It was really hard to write, as I don't like kitchens enough to have an idealized version in my head, so it's my least favorite of the bunch. But hey -

Food.

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Three hours left to wait.

Take a Shot for Every Elsa You See (Survivor's Log 2)

A quiet song I've been obsessed with as of late:

Dead Hearts, by Stars


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I've been working on a short story since last week's post, and it's taking a while. So instead, I decided to post my essay on gender in social constructionism that I mentioned here (It should be in the post literally below this one, but I linked it anyways).

Looking back on it after a week, it's all I can do to keep myself from revising it, removing unnecessary words and phrases, and changing a thought to make it more clear. It seems terribly unorganized now than it did before. But it was a subject I enjoyed writing about - a first for me, even in high school (research papers excluded) - and I like some of the parts very much. I interchanged source names for "x's," to show how many times I had to cite.

So:

Take a Shot for Every Elsa You See

          Media is one of the most powerful methods of perpetuating current social conventions. People are most easily influenced when they are younger. Combine these two factors, and the Disney franchise could easily be one of the most socially influential companies in the world. Many young girls (and some young boys, for that matter) idolize the Disney princesses, and aspire to be like them in looks and/or personality (x). One only has to look at the number of small Elsa’s that will be running around ringing doorbells this Halloween to realize how affected children can be by a film. The first Disney movie, Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, is a prime example of how early Disney princess movies incorporated idealized gender roles, and thus indirectly promoted society’s predetermined views on the matter of a proper woman.

          The general story in Snow White is that a jealous queen sentences a beautiful girl to death, simply for being prettier. However, Snow White escapes death by running away, and finds a place to hide. And when she does die in the end, it is her physical beauty that motivates the prince into saving her via “true love’s kiss.” Snow White, for the majority of the movie, is portrayed as innocent, kind, and charming, but also rather oppressed, helpless, fearful, and vapid (x). Physically, she is portrayed as having a slim figure and is wearing a neat and tidy dress. Emotionally, she has a passive personality. She would rather work as a maid in an abusive situation than find a way to better her life, and spends lots of her time daydreaming about when her hero will rescue her from the evil queen’s palace (x). And of course, she would not be a proper Disney princess if she did not collapse crying at some point in the movie (x).

          On the other hand, “Disney transforms the vain, active and wicked woman of folktales into the Femme Fatale, the 'deadly woman' of silent film and of Hollywood classic film” (x). In other words, a strong independent woman, who would be respected as a suitable role model in today’s society (x), was considered the villain and the opposite of a socially accepted woman nearly 80 years ago. Appearances were very important, too – the evil queen in Snow White transforms herself into an old, stooped crone with bad teeth, wiry hair, and frumpy clothes – a far cry from the fair-skinned, youthful Snow White. Disney was implying that the queen was evil not only in personality, but also in the way she dressed, suggesting that a woman must also look the part of a good housewife, and appearances to others in society mattered a great deal (x). Also, as the antagonist of the story, the evil queen opposed everything the pure protagonist stood for, and therefore the traits of the queen –proactivity, cunning, and independence – were dismissed as undesirable because they were associated with “the bad guy.”

          Disney contributed to the 1940’s social construction of gender through these supremely different portrayals. When Snow White came out, the purpose for women in life was to find a suitable husband, and to support him in his endeavors (x). She was not supposed to have her own job or own property, but was expected to stay at home, clean, and raise children (x). In other films in that time period, most women were similar to Snow White in that they waited for the man to act first instead of being proactive themselves. They were not expected to intelligently think for themselves, and if they were ever anything but obedient to what the higher powers ordered, they got into trouble and created a big mess for the men to clean up (x). Snow White is therefore much like the ideal housewife: she cleans without being asked, she follows orders without question, and acts as a mothering figure (as evidenced when she cooks the seven dwarves their meals and scolds them to wash their hands). “This teaches little girls that the perfect beautiful woman stays at home and does housework,” (x) but more importantly, it teaches that an ideal woman never questions anyone about their wrongdoings.

          Disney could have gone against the standard expectations of women. They could have created a heroine with anomalous characteristics that set her apart from “normal” girls. Snow White could have been a shrewd businesswoman, who talks the huntsman out of killing her, instead of running away. She could have been curious and adventurous, and found a way out of the evil queen’s palace without having to rely on a prince to save her. She could have even had some common sense to make the right decisions for herself, and not eaten the apple offered to her by a complete stranger. However, to make decisions for herself would have gone against what was expected of women in the 1940’s; that is, they were expected to stay home and be sexually loyal to only their husband (x), among other things. Men and women, seeing a movie with such an abnormally independent heroine, might have prohibited their daughters from seeing it because it went against the grain of what society deemed acceptable (x). They might have thought that their daughters would start acting independently too, and thus would become social pariahs. Because of that, Disney chose to have an emotionally weak character instead of a strong one. If they had directed a movie with implications and themes no one agreed with, sales would have tanked and the franchise would have closed before it even got started. It is simple business. By catering to the social expectations of their target audience, Disney ensured a massive success and made a huge profit off of their first movie – an impressive feat for a budding company.

          At the time, these portrayals of women as domesticated housewives were beneficial. As a highly influential medium, they taught young girls their expected positions in society, and influenced how they were supposed to behave and think (x). From today’s point of view, though, Snow White can be seen as harmful to the newest generation of women. Today, the emphasis is on how women are capable of being independent, and most of society encourages women to enter job fields dominated by men (x). Social constructions are fluid and constantly shifting (x), and what might have once contributed to the social construction may not anymore. After all, the most popular Disney princess today has no love interest and desires to live independently, and yet one could make a drinking game out of how many little girls look up to and aspire to be her.

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Am I not justified in thinking that I have to cite too many times? Even in the introduction, which I've never had to do before. But as I've said, ever since my TA told me I had to appropriate thoughts to more people, I've been going on citing sprees. I hope it's working, because honestly, sometimes I just add a name to the end of a sentence that has a similar thought to the source. I don't actually draw any inspiration from it.

I am hardly one to give out advice, but I've come up with a method for writing conclusions, which is something I've always struggled with. I imagine myself doing a mic drop after the last sentence. If I can't see myself doing it, it's not strong enough. Silly, yes, but effective.

I kind of took a risk titling it something so sarcastic though. It was almost going to be 'Damsel in Distress,' but I was talking to an old high school friend when writing it, and told her as a joke that I should reference my drinking game sentence. She told me that I should, and I quote, "Totally do it, it'd be so funny." Also, my TA is awesome in that he is nearly as sarcastic as I am (seriously, he's hilarious), so I knew that he wouldn't really mind. So, uh, take risks within reason? Is that a thing? Can it be a thing?

**EDIT: Today was the day of our second exam. I struggled a bit more than with the first, but that's beside the point. We are supposed to turn in our exams to our TA's, and as I gave my exam in, my TA said, "By the way, good job on your essay... Assignment #3, right?" (I nod mutely at this point) "Yeah, I haven't put the grades up yet, but good work."

YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Out of the hundreds of essays he had to grade, mine stood out enough for him to remember it. I am so goddamn satisfied with myself. TA, rate me. Judge me. Va-li-date me.

Honestly, I think one of the main reasons why he liked it is because of the title, though. I've seen the titles of some other people's essays, and they're things like 'Sociology Assignment #3.' That's how you title papers in high school. Not in college.

But anyways, I'll just be here, grinning until next week.

Survivor's Log

I realize that I haven't recorded any thoughts on my actual college experience in a long time. This is hardly a convenient time to do it either, because the semester has suddenly kicked into high gear, and for the past two weeks I find myself staying up late every night finishing lab reports and churning out four-page essays. In fact, I don't think there's been a single night this week that I haven't written an essay. It is literally an essay a night.

I find I don't dwell on this enormous workload much, though; I only just realized it when writing it out here. I am used to doing large things in a small amount of time, unhealthy as it is, and I just work through it one day at a time instead of agonizing over the next day's essay. Consequently, I've been getting about 5 hours of sleep a night and I am starting to feel it catching up to me.

Right now I'm working on tonight's essay, Take a Shot for Every Elsa You See, for my Sociology recitation. It's about how gender (or race/ethnicity was the other option) is portrayed in TV and film. I chose to write about gender representation in classical Disney films, and though I am against the idea that Disney purposefully whitewashes, I do agree that in their earliest princess movies the heroines are all rather fearful, helpless, and dependent on someone else to save them. However, I will talk about this topic another time. I would instead like to focus on what the teachers here in college expect to see in my writing.

That is to say, what they expect to see in my paraphrasing of other people's writing.

I like to think that I actually did quite well in the first essay I turned in. I included lots of my opinions on a topic I know well without using the dreaded words "I" or "my," and I think that they were all valid opinions with solid evidence. I created arguments, acknowledged counter-arguments, and then struck those down with another point. I drew on personal experience and past knowledge for the most part, and only quoted and cited others on new information that I needed to know specifically for that paper. However, I got an 85%. And the only notes that were on my paper were cite, cite, don't use contractions, cite.

Let me repeat. I was marked down for not citing other authors as writers my own thoughts.

I would have been perfectly happy with a solid 85% on my first real college essay had I been told a legitimate problem to improve upon. But instead, I lost points for not attaching sources to ideas that stemmed from my own thoughts. I went up to the teacher after class to ask him about how I was supposed to cite my own opinion if I couldn't use "I" and "my" in formal essays, and from what he said, I gathered that he thought I was writing down information from outside articles without citing where they were from, when in fact it was my own opinion I was writing. His advice to me? Include more outside sources. In other words, I feel he did not expect me to think intelligently and independently of other author's ideas.

He's not the only teacher doing this. My dance teacher is a source mania, and expects a minimum of five sources to get a C grade. I've learned here in college that you should be citing everything, even if it's a common sense idea that shouldn't need a source to be accepted as true.

(I proofread just now, and realized that even here, where I am used to using contractions, I've subconsciously stopped in places. I think it's because of all the essays I've been writing where I'm not allowed to use them. It sounds stiff, but I won't change it, because it's psychologically interesting.)

I don't feel as though I'm being taught how to write. I feel like I'm being taught how to cater to a teacher's preference in order to get a good grade.

I would continue to rant, but I want to record other things too, so I will stop there. TL;DR: I understand citing sources improves your ethos, but you shouldn't have to cite every third sentence, as I was expected to have done.

Despite all that, Intro to Sociology is still my favorite class. After that I would have to say Chemistry is my next favorite. Granted, the teachers are dull as heck and take FOREVER to explain a simple concept, but the old ideas are easy to relearn and the new information makes sense quickly. Right now we are learning stoichiometry, which I remember was my favorite unit back in high school. It's always made complete sense to me, right from the beginning, and if the professor assigned optional stoichometry homework I'd probably do it, just for fun. I feel like I can't say that though - I can't say, "I love doing these problems," because there are people surrounding me on all sides saying stuff like, "I hATE stoichometry, I don't get it," and, "This is sooo boring." I don't want to appear as a know-it-all, rubbing my luck at understanding it in their faces. I always felt extremely inferior and awkward in high school when friends did that to me and talked about stuff I didn't understand very well (like advanced maths, or high literature), but I didn't like to cut them off because they clearly enjoyed talking about a subject they were good at. It wasn't their fault, but it was always disheartening on my part, not being able to contribute anything intelligent. I dislike not knowing.

Even though I am a biology major, the Gen. Bio class I'm taking is also dull as heck. I don't want to learn that the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell, or that fats consist of a glycerol backbone with three fatty acid chains. I don't want to learn that mitosis produces two daughter cells while meiosis produces four. I don't want to learn THAT kind of biology. Rather, I want to learn about specific animal species. I want to examine how they evolved to fit their environment, what features make them special. I want to go out into the field and study what those boring cells come together and create. They say start small, but cells are TOO small. Next year the required class is Ecology; let's hope that's more interesting.

Sadly, my least favorite class is the one I was looking forward to the most: Intro to Dance and Culture. It is partly my fault for signing up for a class with a curriculum I didn't understand very well, but I was under the impression we would be actually learning how to dance. Instead, we are assigned readings and essays on step style and palm play and other terminology. I did not want to learn terminology. I wanted to learn choreographed dances, where you know the steps really well so you don't stand there wavering, but instead pour your energy into moving. Workshops are like the former; if the dance style even gets the honor of getting a workshop, it's only for one day, and you're basically stumbling around the entire time with your head cranked to the side, trying to watch what the leader is doing, instead of facing forward and confident in how you're supposed to be moving.

Plus, we are required to pay money to see plays and performances. REQUIRED to spend additional money on tickets I didn't know I would have to be buying. The performances I've been required to see and write essays on so far were relatively interesting, but I can think of a whole host of things I would rather buy with $15. Allow me to be whiny and say that I don't think that's fair.

Socially, things are dead. I no longer regret not having a roommate as much, but I still wish I could meet more people who don't intimidate me and have interests similar to mine. I've joined Quidditch, but we don't hang out outside of practice (I think a HP marathon would be a great idea to get to know one another better) and all other clubs I'm interested in meet during my lecture hours. My dorm is very quiet and unfriendly too; people rarely come out of their rooms. In high school, I had a best friend, two or three close friends, maybe a dozen plain friends, and then a whole host of acquaintances I could comfortably talk to but would not hang out with outside of school.

Here, I can count - one, two - five people that I consider friends or acquaintances, and could imagine talking to outside of class, if at all. That's it. I don't know ANYONE else, largely because the majority of the people here migrated from nearby high schools, and I'm not about to approach a group of obviously long-term and close friends who are laughing about some inside joke. But more so because the majority of these people were clearly what was considered "popular" in high school: They are stylish, confident people with perfect makeup and trendy clothes, who obviously get invited out a lot, who just have that look of being at the top of the social ladder. I, on the other hand, am painfully socially anxious; I can't comfortably approach people like that. Unfortunately, they're what I see everywhere.

On the other hand, I've already (jokingly) insulted the clothing of a friend as being hideously ugly, and with me that basically means I'm about as comfortable with you as I'm ever going to get.

That just about covers everything I can think about. I've been bringing Blood of Olympus to dinner as of late, in order to reread it. It makes me happy, reading again. With no supply of good fictional books, I'm spending a lot of my time on my computer, and I'm aware of and unhappy about it.

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"Windmills," designed and animated by Guillaume Bergère, Guillaume Coudert, Maria Glinyanova, Bruno Guerra, Charlotte Jammet, at Georges Méliès school.

This short film was the winner of Best Animated Film Festival: Boston SCI-FI (Boston, 2012)

If you don't understand French, what they are saying is:

"We have enough time to leave!"
"I'm staying with your mother. Leave without us. Go away."
"I don't want to go without you!"

I love the art style *-*