"Subway Buskers" ~Reading Response~

I respect illustrator Victor Marchand Kerlow in deciding that no captions were necessary to relate the purpose of the piece to the reader. The pictures themselves were enough to explain the purpose and the emotion of the point.

The emotion and dedication of each of the performers is evident through body language and facial expression alone. The common look in the performers faces is not one that would be expected, there is no look of excitement or thrill from performing, it is more of one similar to despair and struggle. The people in these photos are not performers who can enjoy their talents, it is their means for survival. No longer a hobby, it is a job.

Boris Rose ~Reading Response~

What stuck out most about this piece was the title. Boris Rose: Prisoner of Jazz, is absolutely perfect to sum up the main point. Boris Rose has an addiction to which he is a prisoner of and this obession becomes obvious from several panels.

The first two panels that show just how much Boris was obsessed with recording jazz music are on page 21. They are the two in the center. The first one shows how Boris has to wake up at 2:45 in the am in order to record certain broadcasts. The second one shows how Boris, in order to get better service, may go to a friends house late at night. It seems crazy that anyone would sacrifice sleep or even annoy a friend in order to record music, but Boris must truly be a prisoner, a prisoner of jazz.

A third panel that shows the seriousness of Boris's obsession and the magnitude of the collection that he had. The last panel on page23 states, "He continued to issue more and more of his LP transfers, but to this day somewhere around 95% of all his material has not been issued." While it seemed throughout the entire piece that he was steadily handing out and selling music, this was a big misconception. Only 5% was given out, thus the total amount that he had was immense, a gigantic amount.

There is absolutely no doubt after reading this piece, that Boris does not have an extreme obsession with recording jazz music.

Penny Sentiments ~Reading Response~

Who knew how important postcards, or "postal cards" used to be. While it seems as if texting is todays quick postcard, the original postcards seem much more efficient. Lack of emotion is often a problem with text messages leading to misconstrued opinions of meanings etc. You would imagine that with postcards the same problems would occur, but from the reading you realize this is not the case.

"Question marks occur in curious places~ like a knowing wink~ and the special positioning of the stamp meant something in secret code that the addressee alone could decipher." That is soo special and unlike any text that can be sent nowadays. Postcards have greatly diminished, but their use should resume. They add much greater originality and personality to messages and are of much greater one on one status.

"West Side Improvements" ~Reading Response

Before reading this piece, I had never hear anything about the mole people that lived under the tracks in Riverside Park. Their story is fairly sad seeing that they were icked out of their home, having done nothing wrong. It is also confusing as to why these people were punished, while the guys who did graffiti all of those years were not. It definitely was an eye opener for me to say the least.

As for the purpose of this piece, it is definitely a toss up between an attempt at telling a history or if it is an attempt as justifying graffiti as a form of art. In some senses it is both, through telling the story of Riverside Park improvements an underlying story emerges of the relationships in the tunnel. This story almost redefined the feelings that people have about "homeless" people. In this reading they seem to make amazing companions and the life in the tunnel doe not seem so bad.

A Coney Island Rumination~ Reading Response

The way that Paul Hoppe describes Coney Island is in a way that I believe can be directly related to human and human nature. It is susceptible to change, has extensive variety, and a future is not always guarenteed.

For humans change occurs on a daily basis. It is obvious that we change from being a newborn to an adult, but even as we get older we may begin liking new things and changing our appearance. One day we will all grow old and worn out. For Coney Island, this reading portrays just that. Once bright and shining, it now seems old and forgotten about. No longer an icon of the eastern U.S.

The variety of the Penn State campus is comparable to the variety of rides and attractions. Walking around campus there are people of all colors, all religions, all nationalities, and with interests that are vast. Coney Island has all sorts of colors as well, with a huge amount of rides and food places. There are different attractions for everyone.

It is just part of human nature that people age and one day, sadly, we die. It is not totally guarenteed that we will even be able to live life to the fullest, at any moment life can end. I'm sure that no one believed that Coney Island would ever be old and dull and boring, but it happens. Obviously, just like with the diseases of humans, it is able to bring something back into health, Coney could be spruced up again, but there is never a guarentee that it will stay the same.

The Writing Room

The Sun Porch

While a lot of people may say that their favorite room to write in is possibly their bedroom, mine is the enclosed porch in the back of my house. It is in this room where I am able to relax, let my mind go, and let my inner writer come out.

Although this room is extremely full, it is not necessarily filled with my own objects, rather objects that are much more meaningful to myself and my family. Countless family photos are scattered all over from dance recitals to elementary, middle school, and high school graduations. Or even the dinner table that my family has shared since I was a child are all just a basis of the consistancy of my life. The consistancy that is responsible for my feelings of relaxation.

This room has now become my familiar spot and I love the warm feeling that I get here when the sun shines brightly through the blinds. It is not only a good place to write, but a good place to nap on those lazy summer afternoons, without a care in the world.

The Shoe that Drops

Throughout my life, teachers have always complimented me on my hard work and intelligence, and at first I always believed them. I always did well on exams and excelled at most everything I did. I had complete support from my parents and most of the time, my sisters as well. But, someone else had a different opinion.

My ex bofriend was fairly supportive, but I do not think he felt I had as much intelligence as I actually did. Eventually and even to this day, his doubt in my abilities still gets to me. He would always ask me questions and I would provide an extremely knowledgeable answer only for him to ask someone else we are with the exact question. Almost always he would get the exact answer I gave, and I just didn't understand why he did not just believe me.

Even after we had broken up, he knew exactly how to burst my bubble. When discussing where I had been applying to college, he quickly told me that there was no way I would get into any of the schools I had applied, "You don't have a good enough application," he told me. I was dumbfounded, I knew I was a good choice, why did he doubt me? Thankfully, as I am writing this right now, I got into Penn State but to this day, my lack of self esteem that my ex boyfriend caused sometimes comes back to haunt me.

During stressful weeks during the semester, it is often difficult for me to keep my head up. I start to gain some confidence in my abilities, and then immediately I begin to think about all of the things he has said and I think that maybe I really can't do it. It becomes extremely difficult to remain positive and I really hope I can heal this void in my life because I am better than he ever made it seem. If I set my mind on something, I can do it.